A Word About Race

Riding this route has thus far been a trip through "white America." I mentioned in an earlier post that I saw no people of color in Kentucky until I got to Berea. It still puzzles/interests me that three whole states later I have seen almost no black faces, and only since I've been in western Kansas have I started to see some brown ones. I'm the stranger in these here parts so maybe African Americans and Latinos just don't live in the rural areas I've biked through. I wouldn't assume either that the creators of the Transamerican route purposefully skip neighborhoods where people of color live. (Rather, I assume, for instance, that on the Southern Tier and River routes cyclists would naturally traverse areas where rural blacks reside). It's not as if LA is some Mecca of totally integrated multicultural harmony. But it's just odd to encounter only white people.

I'm not just talking of course about the people whose turf we cyclists cycle through but the cyclists themselves. I have seen about 50 cyclists so far and all of them have appeared to be Caucasian. No Asians, Latinos or African Americans.or anybody without white skin. It reminds me of how privileged having white skin is in this country. I may have other identities that could compromise my accepted status here in the Great Plains. But even though I'm not, let's just say, featured like an Aryan, neither am I walking around in the Old World garb of the insular Hasidic Jews in the fairfax neighborhood. Nor am I decked out in Folsom Street Fair attire or present unequivocally as the gayest of the gay (in fact, urban gay men very often costume themselves like the men I've seen in the last month appropriating a variety of subcultures including skinheads, rednecks, truckers and that whole Country Western thang. I've said to myself many times out here: "that guy looks so gay!"). What I'm getting at is that yes, I'm riding my bike across the country because I saved up enough money to do it, I don't have responsibilities I can't leave for a bit (like hungry kids), and I have enough negotiating power at my job (hopefully massive budget cuts won't end up proving me wrong). All that is privilege. But it's really the color of my skin that allows me access to every town, campsite, restaurant, church basement, and kind person's home. I know we have an African American president and all, which is obviously huge progress for this country. But Confederate flags have been proudly waving in every state so far (except Kansas) - and yes it means what i thought it meant before i started the journey (I've asked people) and I've heard both in passing and straight in my face a lot about immigrants and what happens in black neighborhoods and why such and such hotel was better before the Indians took it over. So I'm lucky I get to do this. But this country is not safe for everyone. Yet.

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