What White People Don’t See
I’m white. For much of my life I’ve been oblivious to racism. I grew up in a Jewish suburban neighborhood in Studio City. I did not have friends of color until high school. I did not have a meaningful conversation about race with a black person until college. My family’s politics were left leaning. I followed suit.
During my sophomore year at UCLA, I joined an anti-apartheid student group. I participated in protests urging university divestment in South Africa. At the time, it struck me as odd that our student group included no people of color. The students who protested our protests were also exclusively white. In essence, white people battled white people concerning black people from another continent whom we didn’t know.
Mind you, this was 1985 when racism in Los Angeles was about to explode in citywide riots. We didn’t focus on the racism in front of us. This is because we didn’t see it. Most of us were from isolated suburbs far from the inner city. We considered ourselves woke, but we were clueless. We wanted to do the right thing but we were blind to the social injustice in our own backyard.
It wasn’t until I dated a black woman after college that my eyes began to open. We had many discussions about race. She told me stories about being stopped by police or being followed by security guards through stores and supermarkets. I opined she…
