View From A High Horse

Do you remember this post?
http://blessourhearts.blogspot.com/2009/09/its-been-day-but-good-one.html
The one where I gave the girl a ride who was from Turkey but who had been adopted by a mixed-race couple?

I had written the words:

I got myself so worked up over the old guy at the dump I almost went and told him off but I didn't and I don't know if I should be proud of myself or ashamed.

That's what I wrote and it was honest. I did not know.

Today, after cleaning out the chicken coop and doing some garden weeding I loaded up the trunk of the car with the garbage and the recycle and I went down to the dump place.
The old white guy was there.
The one who told the girl I gave a ride to that it wasn't safe to walk down Highway 158 because "black people lived there."

I popped my trunk to get my garbage out and the old white man came out of the little shelter to help me and he said, "I really appreciate your giving a ride to that girl last week."

"No problem," I said, heaving my trash into the proper receptacles.

And then something came over me. I wish I could say I trembled or that I felt moved by the spirit or something equally as spiritual but it was as pragmatic and cold as anything I've ever felt.

"I have to tell you something," I said, refusing his help in getting my recycle to the proper bin.
"That girl? She told me that you told her that walking down that road was dangerous because black people lived there. And I think that was so offensive and so ignorantly prejudiced. And not only that, her father is black."

I dumped my paper and cardboard into the blue receptacle and continued on with my tirade.

"And besides that, I have walked down that road many times and the only time I've ever felt threatened was when I was in a white neighborhood with bad dogs."

He looked at me and said, "Well I'm sorry if I offended anyone but you read about these things all the time happening in Tallahassee."

"I've lived in Lloyd for five years," I said, "And I've lived in the south my whole life and I just think that what you said was prejudiced and offensive and you don't know what you're talking about."

I looked at him cruelly. I did. And he's just an old white man in his seventies who has retired and who can't stand just hanging out feeling useless so who got a part time job at the DUMP.

And then he said it. He said, "My sister got raped twenty years ago by a nigger. And I guess I never got over it."

I didn't even hesitate.

"So if your sister had gotten raped by a white man, you'd hate the entire white race?" I asked. I did not stop to say I was sorry his sister had gotten raped. I just leaped into my argument.

"I don't hate any entire race," he said. "I have lots of friends who are niggers." (Yes. He said this.)
I don't hate them. I give them fish and venison. I do what I can for them whenever I can."

"And yet," I said, "You call them that hateful name. That is a HATEFUL word."

And then he went off on how the jails are filled with niggers. That is proof of his argument that black people are dangerous.
I didn't have time to go into the cultural reasons of why there are more black men in prison than white. All I said was, "Yeah, because if you're poor and black, you can't hire a lawyer to get you out of prison the way you can if you have money and you're white."

He wasn't buying it. "You read about it every day," he said. He was angry. But I was too.

"So if your sister had been raped by a white man," I repeated,"You'd be afraid of the danger of all white men? I don't think so."

"You don't know what you're talking about," he said.

I finished dumping my paper into the recycle bin. He was still talking to me.
I got in my car and I drove away.

And I didn't feel good.
And I still don't.
There is that part of me which says speak the truth and fear no man.
And there is that part of me which says that he's an old man and nothing I can say will ever change what he thinks.

So tell me. Did I do the right thing in confronting him? If so, why don't I feel better about it? Should I have approached him in a more loving way? A way that would have given him room to think about what I said?
I think so.
And yet, I didn't. I coldly and sternly told him what I thought. He said ignorant and prejudiced things. And then- he responded with a word that I can hardly believe anyone would use in these days and times.
Nigger.

And I should feel so self-satisfied that I confronted such prejudice straight-on.
But I don't.

And yet- this is the perfect example of racism- blaming an entire race for the actions of one. Taking one situation and making it into an excuse to hate and to call people loathsome names.
I don't feel guilty about what I did but I don't feel great about it either.

What do you think? Have you ever been in a situation like this? What did you? How did you feel?
Is it our jobs to speak up and expose the racism? Will it do any good?

This old white man always treated me with respect and helped me carry my garbage. And now he's going to see me in a different light.
But I see him in a different light too.
We both showed each other our true faces.
He was hateful and yet, I was hateful to him.

I don't think I helped a thing, even though I told him the truth.
So what? The truth is more than obvious. You can't judge an entire group of people with dark skin on the actions of one. The word "nigger" is obscene. He knows this. You can't be alive in 2009 and not know this.
So what did my words do?

Not only to him, but to me.
What did my words accomplish?
Did they let in any light or did they just close the lid tighter on his darkness?

Tell me what you think because I honestly don't know how I feel.