Thoughts on Racism

I am only a few weeks away from finishing up the African American history class I have been taking this semester. I signed up for the class because I wanted to see if I could juggle taking a class with being a stay home mommy and wife. Also, it was offered one a weeknight that Justin could watch the kids, which made it an easy decision to take the class.

Being a history major who was completely and irretrievably in love with my major, I have taken many history courses. I contemplated an English minor at one point in my college career, but gave up that goal when I could never decide which history course I did not want to take. I've taken European history courses, historiography courses, Southern History, and several specialized American history classes. So I have spent a fair amount of time in history classes. And they were all wonderful, fabulous classes (except for Early Medieval Europe, but that was my fault, not the fault of the inimitable Dr. Burger, who could not help but make class fun).

So with this being said, few courses have touched me as deeply as this course. The Soviet Russian history course came close, as did the Women in American History, in touching me and impacting my way of thinking, but nothing like this course has.

To begin with, despite taking so many classes, and reading history voraciously over the years, so much of the information is new. I often find myself shocked that I did not know of certain things. For example, there was an antiabolition riot in Nashville in 1835, as well as a race riot in Nashville in 1856 that led to the closure of African American schools for a decade. It speaks to the woeful nature of primary historical education in this country. Too many times we are stuck in a classroom with a football or baseball coach who is not enamoured with his subject. He does not engage the students; he is just trying to get through the day until football practice.

Since the class started in August, I have found myself thinking more deeply of things like race relations. I notice racism more than I ever did, a casual racism that shocks me. What is more shocking is that I never recognized it for what it is for. I have been thinking of how holidays like July 4th must be a mockery to African Americans; after all, slavery did not end on July 4, 1776. We celebrate Washington, Jefferson, and Jackson as great leaders, but we don't discuss the fact they were slaveholders. We don't discuss Lincoln's racism, or the racism of many of our presidents. On a side note, we do ourselves a great disservice when we fail to acknowledge that our national heroes are flawed humans as we are. One could argue that their flaws make them greater, as they were able to achieve greatness despite being deeply flawed.

The negative of my deep thinking is that I know of no answers to the questions being raised by increased awareness. I am researching the idea of slave reparations for my paper, and can see why they are deserved. Yet I have no idea how you could ever make reparations for the damage we have done over the past centuries. I can see the ingrained racism around me and I am not quite sure how to combat it, or how to raise my children so that they do not fall into the racist trap. I can hope that age and wisdom will bring answers, but to be honest, I am not sure if answers are available. Sometimes there are questions too big to be answered. At least by a somewhat harried mom of a preschooler and toddler.