Do victims of racism or sexism suffer more?

Racism

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by Kevin Davis

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To have been a victim of either prejudice is equally painful and degrading. To be denied equal rights of any form is unfortunate, but an everyday reality.

How many times have women been taken advantage of as a result of getting their vehicles serviced? Just last week, I was getting my oil changed and there was a young lady ahead of me in line. She clearly stated that she needed to have an oil change. The attendent took the necessary information and her keys. About ten minutes later the service technician called the young lady up to the counter and explained that her vehicle needed several additional replacements. He started off with the air and cabin filters stating that they were pretty dirty and needed replaced. He continued by saying that the coolant was dirty and the system needed flushed. Last but not least, the wiper blades were bad. I'm not so sure that they could have accurately checked all theses items in less than ten minutes. I could see what was happening; they were attempting to make a big sale from a young niave lady.

The high pressure sales attack began. The young lady was very reluctant to have anything other than the oil change done. She stood her ground very well for a while, eventually leaving the service center with over three hundred dollars worth of maintenance on her vehicle. All she wanted was a $19.95 oil change. Needless to say, my vehicle didn't need anything but an oil change and I'm sure that was because I am a man. I couldn't help thinking, what if that were my younger sister being taken advantage of? That franchise has seen the last of my money.

In the work place I've seen females as the subjects of unwanted coddling. Their male counterparts believing they should be placed in positions less challenging or in places where they can easily be viewed by supervisors in need of eye candy. Pretty unfair in my opinion. There have been many times as a supervisor that I would much rather assign a female over a male. That preference based on merit alone.

When we speak of racism, I could start voicing my thoughts, concerns and experiences now and still be expressing myself this time next week. Some incidents blatant, others covered over like a cheap piece of carpet with no padding.

My earliest recollection of racism was not understood until I was much older. As a young child, probably five or six years old, my uncle and I were going shopping. I was so excited to find that we would be taking the bus! As soon as I got on the bus I ran to the back. All I wanted was to sit in the backseat and look out the rear window. I wanted to do as I had seen many other kids my age do: make faces at the people driving behind them or draw faces or the window. Much to my surprise and dislike, my uncle called to me harshly, "Come back and sit here!" I was having no part of sitting way up front and made a big commotion of it. My uncle had to physically drag me back towards the front of the bus. At least I got a window seat. It wasn't until 5th or 6th grade, in history class, that I realized why my uncle forced me to sit at the front of the bus with him.

I have a pet peeve and I'm not sure if it qualifies as racism or not. I'll let you be the judge. More times than not after I've met someone who is white, I'm asked whether or not I know or have ever heard of black guy named.... Just because I'm black, doesn't mean that I know every other black person.

My grandfather, who's father was white, had a very light complexion and would often times be mistaken as a white man. One afternoon he and my grandmother were at the mall shopping. Grandpa was pretty wore out and sat outside the store on a bench, waiting for my grandmother to end her shopping spree. While he waited, he was joined by a white man in his mid-sixties. He and my grandfather had casual conversation as they sat on the bench. At some point during the conversation, the man began using the "N" word and spoke about blacks as they walked by. Grandpa never said a word about the slander. Shortly afterwards, my grandmother came out of the store, approached my grandpa and told him it was time to go home. My grandpa said the look on that man's face was priceless. My grandpa just winked his eye and nodded at he man, politely walking away holding my grandma's packages. She was unmistakably a black woman with all the features included.

I worked very hard during my career with the Department of Corrections. I took it upon myself to take work-related classes and do all I could do to be promoted. I was promoted from officer to sergeant, then lieutenant and then captain. I earned everything I got, nothing ever handed to me.

I was the first black man to be hold the rank of captain at one of Ohio's maximum security prisons. I was met at each level with resistance. My peers said that the only reason I was promoted was because I was black. If I felt I could be promoted due to my race, I would not have bothered to educate myself, nor would I have been a model employee. I would have simply applied and stressed that fact that I was black. The same scenario for females, the standard line was applicable: she only got the job because she is a female.

Being black can pose a problem just to go shopping at times. We are followed by security personnel, expecting us to shoplift. My wife and I recently purchased a sofa on credit, the next month instead of sending a payment, I decided to pay it off. I went to the bank and withdrew eleven hundred dollars and proceeded to the store. I approached the counter and stated my business. The manager was hesistant about taking my cash. They examined each bill ensuring they were not counterfiet. I just can't help but think that if I were a white, they would have accepted my cash with no questions asked.

I could go on and on with with my experiences but will end with one more incident. I was working in my garage one morning when I began to have chest pains. I immediately got in my vehicle and drove myself to the emergency room. I explained the pain and was instructed to have a seat. Someone would be with be soon. Forty-five minutes later, they called me into the regristration area and began to process my information. The receptionist then asked for my welfare card. I was highly insulted. I guess because my hands and clothes were dirty and I was a young black man, that was reason enough for her to assume that I must be a reciepent of government assistance. Did I read to much into this scenario? Or should I have taken the time to clean-up and look presentable before I attempted to see a doctor?

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