Written by Zach Grossfeld

“The only harbor we’re going to find ethically and politically is to eventually get to a place where the color of a person’s skin is deeply uninteresting. No more interesting than the color of their hair.”

- Sam Harris (from Conversations With Coleman)

I’m White, and I grew up in a predominantly White, Jewish neighborhood.

It was so Jewish that my hometown of Plainview earned the nickname “Plainjew.”

In elementary and middle school, I had two Black, a few more Hispanic, and a couple dozen Asian classmates. Other than that, over ninety percent of my peers were White.

Most of my close friends were White. The conversations, interactions, and activities in which I participated involved mostly White people.

Over a decade, I came to see my fellow Whites (Dave Chappelle voice) as a diverse group of people. We are full of different thoughts, intelligence levels, tastes, and temperaments.

When I approached a White person, I assumed that I knew nothing about what music they liked, how much money they had, or what food they ate because of their White skin. Any information beyond their immutable characteristics was revealed to me through conversation, how they treated me, and how I saw them treat other people.

If I thought someone was an asshole, it was because I saw them act like an asshole on multiple occasions.

If I thought someone liked hip-hop music, it was because they showed me a playlist full of DMX and Black Eyed Peas on the morning bus.

If I thought someone was lazy, it was because I saw the teacher regularly reprimand them for not handing in their homework (I was at least smart enough to make it look like I did mine).

I painted a picture of my White peers based on evidence, and the characterization of one person did not leak over to the next. Just because Drew was a dick didn’t mean Adam was as well.

Adam had to earn that in his own right.

At the same time I was getting to know my melanin-challenged mates (I’m 26, so my “growing up” years ranged from the early to late 2000s), I devoured Black “culture” in the mainstream media.

The Fresh Prince Of Bel-Air graced the television screen every weekend. From my iPod Nano, T.I. and 50 Cent blazed through my earbuds. The “magical negro” cinematic era was in full swing with movies like The Green Mile, The Legend of Bagger Vance, and Bruce Almighty lighting up the big screen.

As a kid, I didn’t learn from and experience Black people the same way I did White people. Often, I just wasn’t around people of other races.

While I knew my White classmates on an individual level, I was being pelted by Black characters crafted by screenwriters and lyrics from Black artists written to top the charts.

Often, these media portrayals reinforced Black stereotypes.

Then, I would see a Black person fulfill the stereotype and think, “Okay, he does that because he is Black.”

The perpetual stereotype cycle:

Experience a stereotype through mainstream media
See someone in real life fulfill that stereotype
Confirm my own bias and paint a broad stroke with that stereotype

Here are some of the Black stereotypes that I would see reinforced through mainstream media (Stereotypes for every skin colors exist, White included, but I’ll stick to Black for the sake of this exercise):

Black people love hip hop
Black people love watermelon and fried chicken
Black people walk slow
If a Black person wears glasses, he or she is the “nerdy” black guy/girl (The Carlton)
Black people are violent
Black people are emotional
If a Black person aspires to become smarter, they are, in fact, White
Black women are angry
Black men are abusive
When Black people smoke weed, they are delinquents. When White people smoke weed, they are “exploring their minds.”
When a Black guy does cocaine, he prefers a filthy alley. When a White guy does cocaine, he prefers the top of a Macbook Pro, vinyl playing in the background, and a crisp hundred dollar bill (I think we need equal drug representation in the mainstream media)

CREDIT: NBC/STUFFED DOG/QUINCY JONES/REX/SHUTTERSTOCK

Example of the stereotype cycle:

Teenaged Me: *Sees every black guy on TV eating fried chicken*

Teenaged Me: *Sees a black guy in a food court eating fried chicken*

Teenaged Me: “Ah, I guess all black people really do love fried chicken!” *makes a note in Nancy Drew journal*

In reality, if John, a black dude, loves fried chicken, it’s because of the same reason I love it: our taste buds light up when we bite into a juicy piece.

Maybe that bite even sparks a fond memory.

Also, when I smoke weed my black friend Terrence, we’re getting high for similar reasons: to get super paranoid for 20 min, then turn on some music and talk about aliens until Dominos arrives. If people view him as “lazy” because of that, then I guess so am I.

As a child of two loving parents, I got lucky.

They raised me to see everyone as equals, regardless of how they look. Equality of opportunity and telling the truth stood at the forefront of my parents’ principles.

Even though my parents raised me to stand against racism, I still adopted racial biases, which isn’t their fault. I grew up with computers and phones at my disposal.

The web bombarded me with stereotypical content.

There’s a stark difference between being racist and having racial biases.

But people conflate the two, which makes racial biases hard to talk about without being called a racist.

Definition of racism (Merriam Webster): a belief that race is the primary determinant of human traits and capacities and that racial differences produce an inherent superiority of a particular race.

Definition of racial bias (my definition): Assuming or having an expectation of someone else’s taste, behavior, or interests based on their skin color.

I never viewed race as a “primary determinant” or capable of producing an “inherent superiority,” which is why it’s harmful to expand the definition of racism. Diluting what it means to be racist gives cover to actual racists and prevents honest conversation.

Everyone adopts racial biases.

Whether you’re Black, White, Hispanic, or Asian, I imagine all people inherit stereotypes of the people with whom they don’t regularly interact.

For a Black teenager growing up in a predominantly Black neighborhood, I’m sure he has internalized some of the many White stereotypes.

Here’s an example of me realizing one of my racial biases:

Me: What are you listening to?

Black friend: Avril Lavigne

Me: *Thinks* Hmmm, that’s not what I was expecting..

Me: *Then thinks* Wait, why wasn’t I expecting that? Why was I expecting anything at all?

Me: I know nothing about your musical tastes because of your skin color, nor should I have approached this interaction with expectations based on your skin color.

Black friend: Cool dude, can you pass the fried chicken?

This stereotype breakdown has been happening a lot recently, in different ways.

So, how did I break down the stereotypes I absorbed?

One way was through sports.

As a pitcher throughout high school and college, I competed with and against baseball players of all different backgrounds (Black, White, Hispanic, etc.). I also hung out with athletes on other teams like football and basketball.

We had long conversations in locker rooms, talked about relationship problems, shared playlists, and occasionally smoked weed as we worried about NCAA testing (I think it’s time we let college athletes smoke weed by the way. You can hand me a bottle of Vicodin, but one joint is a no-no?)

Another way I broke down my racial biases was through podcasting.

Since starting The Auxoro Podcast, I have spoken to hundreds of guests who have different backgrounds, skin colors, experiences, and tastes.

Talk to someone for two hours and it’s impossible to see them as a stereotype.

So what does this mean?

Conversations break down racial biases.

The further removed a group of people is from your life, the easier it is to paint their personality with preconceived notions. No two personalities are the same. And no person is governed by skin.

Nuance and contradictions flow through all of our veins.

As hard as human nature tries, we can’t be simply summed up.

Also, the more you hang around people with different backgrounds, the less interesting skin color becomes.

Now, the color of someone's skin elicits the same charge in me as does their hair or eye color.

As I get to know more and more people, the reflex to insert racial expectations steadily subsides.

No longer is skin color a statement, a tastemaker, a movement, or a primary part of being, at least to me (others would disagree).

You are a person who thinks a certain way, makes a certain amount of money, has particular tastes and treats others a certain way who happens to be Black or White or Hispanic (insert race here).

Breaking down stereotypes is like training a muscle, not having an epiphany.

In the gym, you need to consistently workout to maintain a good figure — same thing with people. You need to consistently have conversations with people of all different backgrounds to keep color uninteresting.

Stereotypes are sneaky, and they’ll look for any opening to slip through the cracks. Moving out of Plainjew and into Brooklyn has undoubtedly helped me stay in the gym.

As I mentioned, not everyone thinks that race, sexuality, or gender should not be a primary part of your personality. Often, I receive email press releases that lead with sentences like:

Check out this openly gay singer for your podcast…

She’s black, proud, and doesn’t shy away…

I’m a biracial, transgender lesbian whose pronouns are microwave and unicorn...

(Okay, that last one was a joke, but not far-fetched).

I don’t care who you penetrate, how much melanin is in your skin, and the genitals that lie between your legs.

As a podcaster, I care about if what you do is interesting, and would you like to have a conversation about it? Away from the mic, I get excited about much the same. I’m a slave to my curiosity, and starting an email like the ones above is the quickest path to boredom.

Even as complicated creatures, most of us seek to fulfill the same primal instincts: sleep, eat, fuck, make enough money to be comfortable, and fulfill our purpose while doing it.

These desires unite us.

Being united by skin color confuses me.

When I see someone like Al Sharpton speak on behalf of the “Black community,” I think, what does that even mean?

Is the reverend tapping into some Black, monolithic chain of thought that all other Black people consult to make decisions?

Does he think Black people are not smart enough to think for themselves?

What about the Black people who disagree with Sharpton? Are they part of the “Black community”?

Can a White person slip into the “Black community” if they think the same way? Is it like a Costco membership? And where can you get discounts?

I know I don’t speak on behalf of the White community when I say, “Fuck that logic.”

I speak on behalf of myself.

Also, I hope this isn’t coming off as “Look at me. I have one black friend!” (it’s two and a half).

And I don’t mean to be “white knight-ey.”

I assure you, I’m a bonafide piece of shit in many ways, and it has nothing to do with my white skin (neither does my privilege, but that’s a conversation for another time).

Likewise, when I think someone else is a piece of shit, race is the furthest thing from my mind.

What I do hope to make clear is that the more divided we are, the more interesting our skin becomes. Skin takes on a life of its own that it shouldn’t.

In a time where speech equals violence, conversational triggers are hunted down like buried treasure by a metal detector, and the Oppression Olympics is in full swing, it can feel like skin divides us more than ever.

Don’t lose sleep or try to control the actions of others. The only thing you and I can do is to become profoundly uninterested in skin and actively interested in what makes us human.

To end, I’d like to remind you of a quote by civil rights activist Dr. Martin Luther King Jr:

“I have a dream that my four little children will one day live in a nation where they will not be judged by the color of their skin, but by the content of their character.”

Your friendly neighborhood podcaster who happens to be White,

Zach

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