White Lives Don’t Matter

The focus on racism the last few months have brought back several disturbing memories.

When I was in high school I wanted to take basketball in gym. I had completely forgotten that I was told only blacks could play basketball. They were disadvantaged and could make money playing basketball. I however could ride my bike to school and get gym credit. If I did that the school district could save money on busing. Funny, the school district had a fleet of Blue Oldsmobile Vista Cruisers with wood grain siding. The were used to individually chauffeur the special needs students. One of the Oldsmobiles ran me into a parked car. The frame of my bicycle broke into three pieces. Fortunately my science teacher saw me and brought me home. Unfortunately the school district refused to compensate me for the bicycle. I am always surprised when white people play basketball.

In college I was doing my laundry late at night. A group of black people came up and flattened me out. I had completely forgotten about the racist words they used first. I was to find out that these were important black people and if I were to press assault charges they could be kicked out of school and their lives would be ruined. I figured I had no broken bones so I accepted their apology. I left the school the next year.

Somehow I ended up living in a dorm with forty Iranians and a black guy. I convinced the Iranians that I was not a member of Slovak. Then I introduced them to Christmas, and set up a Christmas tree. It was back when I could eat nuts, they gave me pistachios. I was pleased. I had completely forgotten that two of them darkly said that America was taking something from them. I was not sure what they meant, but I was assured that it was not oil. It was something like culture.

Please don’t talk to me about racism. For white lives never mattered in my life. I had just forgotten that I don’t matter. For those who insist on reminding me, thanks for the memories. I didn’t need them.

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