racism shmacism

My father and i recently had a talk about the evolution of racism in the generations of our family. In the midwestern and northeastern U.S.A. where i grew up, racism was a simple matter of black and white. Not that my hometowns wouldn't have discriminated against other non-whites, but there really weren't any around. There were barely any blacks. In the sprawling Philly suburban neighborhood in which i spent my teens, there was one black family. They had one child, and i never spoke to him (no, not for that reason...he was a year older than i and played the electric guitar, so he was well out of my own coolness league). There were more blacks in my high school, as many as 10%, with other minorities adding another 3%. I didn't really have any African-American friends, but that was probably because almost none of them ran in my band fag/theater geek circles. Racist jokes or sensibilities just weren't a part of my generation, however. I don't remember them in any peer group i was ever in, and as far back as i can recall, my grandfather Morty and Martin Luther King, Jr. have been my two greatest heroes.
I dislike clumsy, self-conscious terminology, but understand the need for it, so i'll sometimes say "African-American", and sometimes say "black". I remember being a teen and earnestly telling my sister that it was now correct to call black people "brown", because, well, i guess i had heard it somewhere, and it sounded right. I look forward to the not-so-far-off day when skin distinctions will pass out of our vernacular altogether.
My Dad remembers his own grandparents' emphatically racist humor. Not only was it overt and unapologetic, i get the sense that they wouldn't have understood why someone would even ask for an apology. The first racist joke i ever heard came from my maternal grandfather. Even at the tender age of five or so, i remember that moment clearly. In retrospect, the fact that i never loved him like my other grandparents probably began on that day. My parent's generation seemed to be one level of tolerance advanced. Dad has had black friends, and one black girlfriend. There were still barriers, of course...the idea of marrying a black woman was something that he never would have considered. And he has lapses which he doesn't perceive as racist...during the recent democratic primary, he shared a Sambo/bimbo joke. My mother has told me that she would be troubled if i were to have children with a non-white woman.
In my own more non-racist generation, i'm so forward-thinking that i only half-jokingly can't conceive (ahem) of having children with a white woman. Sorry, Mom. I might even enjoy bringing some half-Asian children home, just to tweak her a bit. And of course that's a silly position, as i'll fall in love with, well, whomever i do, and if children come then i'll be thrilled whether they're yellow, white, or all rainbow-speckled. But if the ultimate elimination of racism will only come when the human race fucks away skin differences, then i want in. Let's get to the gettin'!
An incident on my recent trip home for the holidays is what set all these thoughts in motion. I have a cousin who had a child with a black man. Their relationship didn't last. The child, a girl named Ashley, is now a teen, and i'll always feel a special bond and care for her because i was the first person in my family after my cousin to meet her when she was an infant, and because...well, she's a living embodiment of hope and tolerance, but as such she's maybe had a tougher life than some. She's light-skinned enough that in another time, she might have "passed". But that time is not so far gone that there aren't reminders and awkward moments, even in forward-thinking homes. My step-brother John had met Ashley on numerous occasions over the past decade, but had no idea that her father was black. On my recent trip, at a gathering at which he and Ashley were present, he was following a line of conversation and said, "Well, there ain't nobody here but us whiteys." John, with his impish humor, was not speaking racistly. But my eyes widened imperceptibly as i looked around to see who else had caught his gaffe. I suspect my uncle caught it, though he gave no sign. And Ashley herself, i can't imagine that she didn't suddenly feel self-conscious. I didn't have a chance to talk to her about it, but I hope to, the next time we're together.
All evidence to the contrary, i'd like to hope that my Mom made those racial comments about babies just as some sort of skewed, reverse-psychology attempt to motivate me into giving her ANY grandchildren. But if my generation is as non-racist as it seems, doesn't it make you almost giddy to think about where coming generations will take us?
May i start grooming our first female agnostic bisexual Asian-American president?
And, um...may i groom her both figuratively and literally?