Belonging

When I was twenty years old, I drove up to Chicago one summer to stay for a week with a friend who was in grad school there. Other than a trip to New York City when I was 18, it was my first time going to what I thought of as the North. My first thought when I stopped somewhere just north of the Tennessee-Kentucky border was, "Where are all the black people?"

In the South, or at least my part of Alabama, white people and black people are always in close proximity: in big cities, small towns, and even rural areas. I had never been in a place where everyone was white, and it kind of freaked me out. It also exposed to me some racial biases I had. In Kentucky, I stopped at a McDonald's, and I marveled at the fact that all the employees were white. In my mind, fast food was black people's work, and only the poorest and most desperate white people would do that kind of thing. I was naive and sheltered.

When I got to Chicago, I stayed with my friend in Hyde Park, which is next to black neighborhoods on the south side, and there were a lot of Southern restaurants, and I felt at home again. It was that all-white, rural Midwest that freaked me out so much.

***

While the South may be more integrated geographically, there is still a lot of separation. Black people live just down the street, but their social lives, cultural lives, and even religious lives are totally separate from mine. This shouldn't be so.

***

In rural Alabama, strangers still wave at each other as they pass on the road. When I was driving to work this morning, I waved at a lot of people. What I've noticed, though, is that white people wave at white people, and black people wave at black people, but white people don't wave at black people, and black people don't wave at white people.

This morning, every white person I waved at waved back, and some waved at me first. None of the black people I passed waved at me, and all the black people I waved at didn't wave back. I'm not sure if they didn't want to wave back, or if they're so used to not waving at white people that they just weren't prepared to wave back.

***

I was thinking about these things because of the recent suicide I heard about, and because I'm reading Fr. Mike Schmitz's book on homosexuality, Made for Love. I was wondering, "What little things can I do throughout the day to make the world a better place, a place where people don't want to harm themselves, or harm others?"

The answer I came up with: try to show everyone I can that they belong. Wave at people. Smile. Make eye contact when talking. Use people's names. These aren't new ideas. We practiced a lot of this in FOCUS. But somehow, now, I sensed a greater need to do this not just with college students who were influencers, but with those in society who are most alienated from me. Whatever kind of person is most alienated from me is the kind of person I ought to show kindness to. If I show someone similar to me that we belong in the world together, that's one thing. If I show someone with whom it seems implausible that we could share the world together that he belongs in the world with me, that's something totally beyond.

That's one reason why I want to continue waving at black people, in addition to everyone else. Because they don't wave back...yet.

***

When I was jogging a few days ago, I came upon an older black woman walking on the opposite side of the road. I smiled and waved at her. She looked around behind her, apparently to make sure I wasn't waving at someone else. Then, seeing no one, she smiled at me and waved back.

Don't you hate it when someone waves at you, and you wave back, and then you realize they were waving at someone else? Do the opposite, then. Wave at someone who thinks you're probably waving at someone else, only to discover you were waving at them. Then, you're probably waving at someone sufficiently alienated from you.