- December 25, 2024
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Thanks, Donald Sterling. I really appreciate the timing of your leaked racist tirade, which spoils the only Mother’s Day column I’d have written all year.
Sterling — the 80-year-old owner of the NBA’s Los Angeles Clippers — has been vilified in the national media lately for remarks he made to girlfriend/assistant V. Stiviano, chastising her for being seen with and posting photos of African Americans to her Instagram account. The leaked audio leaves little to the imagination as to Sterling’s mindset.
And Adam Silver — the brand new commissioner and public face of an association featuring 78% black players — dropped the hammer. A $2.5 million fine for Mr. Sterling. A lifetime ban.
But what makes someone a racist? Nurture? Some innate hate? A particularly-slimy, anti-social pathology? I don’t profess to know, but I’ve had my own culture shock when it comes to race.
Seven years of Catholic school left me downright isolated as to others’ cultures, races, and socioeconomic statuses. That all changed in 2008, when I transferred to my district high school for my senior year. C.D. Hylton’s roughly 2,200 students are about 40% black, 30% Hispanic, and 17% white, says Wikipedia. That aligns pretty well with my memory.
On Nov. 5, 2008 — the morning after President Obama was elected — a big group of mostly black students blocked the halls when the bell rang. They crowd surfed and chanted loudly, “Yes we can!” (the Obama campaign’s catchy slogan that go-around). I didn’t care — I got to miss a little bit of AP Comparative Government class.
Maybe though, it was a sign that my entire year would be a learning experience. A lot of my new friends were different — used strange words, handshakes, and hair products. Honestly, I was intimidated at times.
But I kept an open mind, and by March, I had slept with a black man (head to toe on a King Size bed during our spring break baseball tournament [We were strapped for cash, sleeping five guys to a room]).
The point is, when you meet someone different — someone who threatens the neat box you’ve always known — there’s basically two options. You can retreat into ignorance and seclusion (like Sterling did), or you can learn how to “dap it up.” The real way — where you bore your right shoulder square into the other guy’s chest in macho solidarity.
I don’t want to pile on an old guy with serious marital, ethical, and health issues. I pray Mr. Sterling can change before he dies.
And Linda, if you’re reading, I know you’ll smile vicariously as I smear your liberal streak all over this column. Happy Mother’s Day.
