You know, George Carlin once said "There's a bigot in every house on every block in America" and I laughed when he said it. His statement echoed similar statements from other people like Malcolm X. But I never really thought it true.
But thinking about it, I realized that I am indeed a bigot. I'm not a bigot ala David Duke, or Archie Bunker. I've got black friends, and Indian friends, and friends of many other colors. But I'm still a bigot.
I grew up in a neighborhood full of people from all around the world. My mom's from Europe, and my baby-sitter during the day while my parents worked was a kind old black lady named Mrs. Jackson. (She eventually moved away from Virginia to join her family in Jacksonville, FL, which to me as a kid was the coolest thing ever. I wanted to live in Reevesville. I even asked my mom one time if they named the town after her, I idolized that woman that much.) But I'm still a bigot. Yes, still a bigot even though I regularly go to lunch with my Indian co-workers at the local Tandoori grill, and hang out with the Chinese people at my office.
How am I still a bigot?
I can't stand poor white people, specifically, those known as 'white trash'. I have an immediate, rabid reaction to "white trash". I don't even know why, but it's automatic. I can't go to Wal-Mart (there seems to be a higher concentration of white trash in my local Wal-Marts than you find elsewhere) without breaking out in hives. It's not a reaction against the South. I love the South. It's not against poor people in general. I've been poor in the past, and I'm not rubbing elbows with Warren Buffet and Bill Gates. It's not even country music, or fans of country music. See, I can't even plant my finger on the exact combination of characteristics that bother me, but I know it when I see it.
I'm not happy with being a bigot. I'd like to think that I judge each person on their own merits, and give everyone a chance, and I guess I do, though "white trash" has a much harder time convincing me.
This is something I've felt since I was a kid! I remember mocking my cousin because he had a thick Southern accent, and was an overall-wearing, shoeless, backwoods, countrified white-boy, and it drove me crazy then.
So, what's the cure then? Go to a bunch of county fairs and get in touch with my white roots? Meet the kissing cousins, and go catch me a greased pig? Hop on the John Deere and drive down to a John Michael Montgomery concert, wearing my nicest Skoal cap? More importantly, how do I make sure that I don't transmit this down to my own children.
Maybe Carlin, Malcolm X, and the rest are right after all, and our bigotry isn't just confined to other races or genders, but can be applied to any group, by anyone.
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