Barack Obama ignited the race war last week with the exposure of his anti-American minister and a statement about his white grandmother. He said that his grandmother was like the typical white woman who was afraid of encountering a black man on the street. The last statement really wasn’t necessary. I am a paranoid white male who is afraid of almost everyone on the street; black, white and all colors in between. I picture everyone wearing a robbers mask as pictured above.
It’s just not safe on the street anymore. There are molesters, murderers, robbers, priest and others in the trade out there ready to pounce on you or a loved one. It’s hard to know who is a friend. Even the police are dangerous.
On Easter Sunday my pastor spoke about the resurrection of Jesus. In the Bible it says that the women who approached his empty tomb saw an angel and were frightened. The angel told them not to be afraid. We are even afraid of angels. It’s really the unknown that we fear.
Unfortunately, the black male has become stereotyped as a thug and rapist ready to take down white women. In many respects he has earned that image but he is joined by many others. I have become extremely cautious and suspicious of everyone. When I enter the parking lot of a mall, I look in every direction for suspicious characters and usually have my spouse by the arm that carries her purse. We avoid walking in unfamiliar surroundings and usually stay with a crowd of people. We usually avoid nighttime activities unless with a group.
We have become a frightened paranoid world. That is in great contrast to the way I grew up. In my small town, as a kid I was permitted to go anywhere at night by myself. I attended baseball games, the movies and played on the courthouse lawn without one speck of fear. That all changed in the mid to late 60’s. Now my grandchildren must go out with an armed guard and even the schools are unsafe. I often ask myself what happened at that time to produce such great change? I think I know, but am reluctant to say. It’s a complex issue and that may take several generations to solve. It may never be possible to again have the safe world of my childhood. In reality, it wasn’t safe then and never has been; I only lived in a very sequestered environment.
My only solution now is to retreat into the safest environment I know, which is the porch. Even that safe haven is threatened, but I’m installing bars and taking other measures to make it a fortress of solitude.