As the editor-in-chief of Journey magazine, I asked a few veteran J-School students to do an editorial about things they hate that black people do for our upcoming issue. They are quite hilarious if you ask me.
But, I digress.
Of course I asked my partner in crime, you know who, to contribute to these editorials.
But, I should have known this request would come back to bite me on the buttocks.
“Why don’t you do your column on things white people do that grind your gears,” she said.
This was hard. I mean I’m kind of an Uncle Ruckus if you catch my drift.
I’m that dude that shakes his head at the many things blacks do.
But this isn’t a column about that.
I’m not trying to sound like an “Uncle Tom,” but I must admit that I admire certain features of the white culture. They have the best sitcoms. Their music is cool (have you heard rap lately?). I love the way they dress. I even feel safer around them at times.
Still, there’s one thing that irks the hell out of me when it comes to white people – when they try to be down.
I hate it when I meet a white person and they shake my hand all ultra black. Or when they try to “blacken” themselves up for a second to build a rapport.
Last summer, I interned for Men’s Journal, a publication geared towards white males, in NYC. One day after work, I headed to Vibe magazine where my good friend works in the photography department.
On meeting one of the senior editors who happened to be white, I reached out my hand for a formal handshake.
Something was lost in translation. He grabbed my hand like one of my dopeboy friends back home would have, and proceeded to do a gang-related shake.
I was left confused. Was I to act as if I wasn’t bothered by this, or was I to Crip Walk?
I was disturbed and let it be known by looking at him like he was an idiot.
My friend scolded me for making the editor feel uncomfortable, but I felt wronged.
In an attempt to become familiar with me, he offended me with his prejudiced action.
I don’t even subscribe to that type of culture, but because I was black, he thought I did. He judged me before he even met me.
Wesley Martin is a senior magazine student from Miami. He can be reached at wes.n.martin@gmail.com.
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