On Racism: One month into Evanston

I have been living in Evanston for over a month now. It’s a lovely place, filled with jaunty squirrels, chubby chipmunks and tiny sparrows bathing in rain puddles. A very recent friend said that it was just missing a “h”.

It’s just very... white. *

The good

Despite being very monochromatic, I would say that Evanston is very aware of race. Walking around, there are multiple houses with “Black Lives Matters” signs staked in their front yards. Two busloads of Evanston residents have finished up an uncomfortable journey to Alabama to explore past truths and present day reconciliation. The Evanston City Council are actively investigating the falling black population in Evanston and the wealth divide between black and white residents.

It’s a good sign that I’ve landed in a very liberal area that won’t balk too much at my very Australian political views.

(Medicare? NDIS? Social welfare? It must be reddest of red communism!)

The bad - my own experiences

The racism I’ve experienced is the same I encounter everywhere else (except south eastern Asia). It’s all mixed up with my gender from men who get a little too excited at the idea of an oriental butterfly.

I was buying a bike, when a passing man saw me and said, “ni hao”.

Well oops, wrong language entirely!

The bad - second hand experiences

I admit that the racism I face is extremely mild. I can walk away from all the overly interested old men, no worse for the wear. I haven’t started work yet so I can’t comment on any effects of race in the professional sphere.

That’s not the same for everyone else.

I was at the Streets Alive festival, extremely hungry and waiting for my cheese covered tater tots to be ready, when a kid on a bike looked at me.

“Miss,” he said, “can I have two dollars for some fries?”

I said sure, and fished out two dollars.

Immediately afterwards, a woman came up to me and said, “You shouldn’t have done that. He would have stolen your wallet.” She then went after the kid, yelling, “Hey you! Come back here!”

I don’t think I need to mention that the kid was black either, do I? (Or that I’m still in firm possession of my wallet.)

I’ve been thinking about this for a while. It sits on the bottom of my stomach as an uncomfortable experience.

Sure, maybe the kid shouldn’t get in the habit of asking strangers for money instead of finding a job. (Although thinking it through, he’s too young to work.) Sure, maybe I shouldn’t have been encouraging begging by giving him money straight up. Maybe the woman knew the kid and his history - but I don’t think so based on the words she used.

What assumptions and stereotypes does it take to assume that a well dressed young person is a likely thief?

What messages is it sending to a vulnerable young child on the cusp of an impressionable and angsty teenagehood to assume that he’s going to steal everyone’s wallet? Teenagers feel misunderstood enough already, without the additional burden of their community accusing them of being inherently bad.

What’s the point of being law abiding if society thinks you’re already a criminal?

TLDR: Evanston is intensely aware of race, but that does not mean it doesn't have racist residents.

*There is a very strong divide when you hit the boundary of Chicago at Howard Street in Rogers Park. Suddenly it’s almost completely black. On the purple express CTA line towards Linden, all the colour drains out of the train at Howard Station.