When you grow up white…
People of all shades grin back at you.
Most of the dolls on the shelves have skin that matches yours.
Your acts of mild rebellion are considered indicators of “pluck,” not innate depravity.
People don’t lock their doors when your daddy walks by or look at him funny when he drives you and your friends around without your momma.
Your family can live anywhere, and it won’t be called “white town.”
You don’t have to be extra nice to be considered “nice enough.”
People compliment you on your academic achievements without acting surprised you were able.
Your athletic successes are attributed to hard work instead of racial predisposition.
Salespeople help instead of watch you.
You can enjoy your food without worrying about reinforcing stereotype.
It’s “okay” to tell and laugh at racial jokes as long as “they” aren’t around to hear and be offended.
People accept your darker friends as long as they are with you.
You don’t have to worry about the message your clothes could be sending.
People want to protect you when you’re out alone or after dark.
People don’t assume your valuables are ill-gotten gains.
You aren’t considered the exception to an unspoken rule of race when you demonstrate good moral character.
People don’t assume that the child you’re babysitting is yours and you’re trying to milk the system.
You are judged by your own merit and are not held responsible for wrongs committed by other members of your race.
You don’t realize racism is a problem.
Because, in your little world, it’s not.
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