Although I am embarrassed to tell this story, for it screams massive class and racial privilege, I guess it will be another step in the acceptance of my innate privilege and social status. A few weeks ago, I had the chance to hang out with a high school buddy of mine, whom I had not seen in a while. He texted me asking if I was interesting in making a trip to the L’auberge Casino, for his girlfriend had just recently turned twenty-one and was interested in trying out her new legal freedom. I had not been to the casino since my twenty-first birthday, about ten months ago, so I decided that playing with the slot machines would not hurt. As the time to leave came, I hopped in my car, left my house, located in a subdivision on Staring Lane,
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Every time I think of that street, I am reminded of my parents nervous facial expressions, and their stories about crime and gunshots (never at any time was the word black used, although oddly enough I did assume that was the case). As I drove that night I asked myself, would I make the turn down Gardere or go all the way around to Bluebonnet and backtrack to the casino. Would I listen to the stories and fears that my parents had implanted in me or would I recognize white fear when I felt it and challenge these notions of whiteness being revealed in class? As I got to the Gardere light, I stayed in the straight lane. Conflicted, I kept asking myself, how can I still be intimidated by the stories after taking a class dispelling these myths and rumors? Did I not learn anything from class? As I sat at this light, I watched the people who made the right turn onto the street. They were white, black, male, female, young, and old. All different types of people were turning down this street. As the light turned green, I quickly acted on what my gut was telling me and decided to test everything I knew about crime and violence in Baton Rouge. I moved over to the right lane and drove down Gardere Lane. This drawn-out, inner dialogue with myself was heavily influenced by my various experiences at the service learning activities as well as classroom readings and lectures. Overall, these experiences have altered my definition of whiteness to one that reflects a better understanding of whiteness as an institution, possibly the most powerful in this country and the
Every time I think of that street, I am reminded of my parents nervous facial expressions, and their stories about crime and gunshots (never at any time was the word black used, although oddly enough I did assume that was the case). As I drove that night I asked myself, would I make the turn down Gardere or go all the way around to Bluebonnet and backtrack to the casino. Would I listen to the stories and fears that my parents had implanted in me or would I recognize white fear when I felt it and challenge these notions of whiteness being revealed in class? As I got to the Gardere light, I stayed in the straight lane. Conflicted, I kept asking myself, how can I still be intimidated by the stories after taking a class dispelling these myths and rumors? Did I not learn anything from class? As I sat at this light, I watched the people who made the right turn onto the street. They were white, black, male, female, young, and old. All different types of people were turning down this street. As the light turned green, I quickly acted on what my gut was telling me and decided to test everything I knew about crime and violence in Baton Rouge. I moved over to the right lane and drove down Gardere Lane. This drawn-out, inner dialogue with myself was heavily influenced by my various experiences at the service learning activities as well as classroom readings and lectures. Overall, these experiences have altered my definition of whiteness to one that reflects a better understanding of whiteness as an institution, possibly the most powerful in this country and the