Growing up in a rural Eastern Tennessee community, there was not a lot of diversity. It is a land inhabited by mainly Caucasian folks of Scot Irish descent, later known as hillbillies. Unlike most of the deep south, there are practically no black Americans in the communities of East Tennessee. Whereas most of the deep south has a large black population, this area has always been self-contained to mostly uneducated whites. The lack of education, along with little to no exposure to diversity sometimes leads to ignorance and hate.
Thankfully, my family did their best to ensure my brother and I were as well traveled as we possibly could be with the resources we had. I soon realized that I was a lot more comfortable around people that didn’t look or act like me than most of my peers were. By the time high school came around, I realized that there was some real and alive racism all around me. It hurt me to my core. I couldn’t wait to move to a larger community with more like-minded people.
Chattanooga is only about an hour from where I grew up, but man it feels like a world away sometimes. This is a city that has people from all over the world, and a storied history of black culture. I was working so much and staying busy with school that I had almost no time to make friends. However, during a grueling shift stocking shelves, my coworker Latrell came to me to complain about the amount of microaggressions he dealt with in a day. Latrell is a black man, a little bit older than me, with an infectious smile and magnetic personality. I realized that I had no idea what he meant by the term “microaggression,” but I was able to put together the context clues. In a nervous tone, unsure of how to respond, I said “Some people just weren’t raised right, man.” He gave me such a concerned look that I thought this must have upset him. He replied, “Where did you get that saying from?” I told him it was just something my mother said when somebody acted how they shouldn’t. He laughed from his toes and responded, “My mom used to tell me that all the time, and I never knew what she meant until now.”
Trell was not only my first friend in adulthood but was now my first friend that wasn’t white. Obviously, this wasn’t my choice to have never made friends with people of a different race. It literally just wasn’t an option where I was from. He invited me over to his house, as it was fairly close to where we worked. He lived with two of his brothers and had a third roommate. The first time I came over, there must have been 10 people standing in the living room having a party.
Trell’s brother, Mike, looked at me and said, “What? Have you never been in a house with this many black folks?” He was absolutely right. I had never been the minority in any situation in my entire life at that point. Did I seem uncomfortable? I didn’t think I was, but I certainly was after what Mike said to me. It made me feel like Mike was going to assume that I was just like all the close-minded jerks I grew up around that were genuinely afraid of people that were different from them. I stood there not knowing what to say for a minute before Mike gave me a handshake hug combo and told me to come on in and join everybody.
It has been about six years since I met Trell, and his brother Mike. We have helped each other through tough breakups, helped each other move homes multiple times, and been there for each other when the others needed us most. I even spent Christmas at their mother’s house in the Memphis area a few years back. Those two are the best friends I could have made. Our friendship started with talking about a lot of differences in the ways we grew up and extensive conversations about race relations in our country. Today, it is barely ever mentioned unless in a comedic way to poke fun at each other. It doesn’t matter where you are from or who you grew up around. Keep an open heart, and always be yourself. You will find like-minded people whether they look like you or not.
- Ignorance, microaggressions and racism – by Clark Gibson - April 6, 2024