struggling to make sense of the political process.

“Why do we need a Black History Month anyway?” was apparently not the way for my uber-white self to begin an interracial dialogue. Especially not with black professionals at a special BHM opening celebration here at PVCC earlier this month.

As the event was winding down I plopped myself at the front table with the event’s coordinators and speakers. My mind was set for a serious and seriously deep discussion of race relations in the post-millennial U.S. of A. I posed my opening question without segway. The group responded defensively. They were not hostile, but I knew immediately that I had blundered. I had asked exactly the question I wanted answered, but it became clear to me that my question communicated more and other meanings than I had planned.

Interracial dialogue by Dalibor Levíček

I had unintentionally connoted that BHM was unjustified. My question also conspicuously lacked assurances: that I was not racist, that my sympathies lay with them. I didn’t soften the question with academic language. But I also didn’t give explicit reason to believe that I wanted to challenge or that I thought BHM unneeded. I erroneously assumed my question would be taken literally and directly, one from an inquisitive mind without prejudice.

I was naïvely insensitive. If prompted, I would have told you that my being a white guy and asking this question at a BHM celebration would change the reception of my words. To communicate effectively I needed to take this all into account. I understand this is my responsibility. But I also just want to speak; plainly and honestly and directly.

I’m keenly aware that I could be overwhelmed by considering how everything I say could be interpreted. This variables-have-variables type convolution looms. It threatens me with what I imagine stage-fright feels like. I must guard against this. I must be able to speak.

And I recoil at the idea of becoming so obsessed with how my words come across that I become less obsessed with what they mean. Putting vanity before honesty has a requiem’s ring. On another hand, I am responsible for what I say and its interpretation. Difficulty does not absolve me of responsibility.

And so it’s a dilemma — misinterpretation or paralysis. It’s unpleasant. Being stereotyped as the ignorant white guy isn’t fun. (Which is maybe not the worst realization to have.) The assumption of racism is offensive. But thinking about every context of my every utterance exposes my mind to a wicked chill.

To be honest I don’t know a solution. I don’t know what to do. I dont know the (or even an) answer.

Maybe it’s best just to struggle– to shoot for both sincerity and sensitivity. If I always miss the mark, I can try to miss by less.

Later on as people packed up the party, I spoke to the reverend I had offended with my question. “I think you got the wrong impression earlier,” I said. “I really more just wanted to know, kindof how you felt about the month. You know, what it does, what purpose it serves for you and what you get out of it.”

“Well you should have just said that,” she said.