The Election: A Message to my Racist Grandfather

From a University of San Francisco Student:

Dear Papa,

There’s something you should know about me and my behavior today. Why I look at you longingly, searching for who I thought you were. Why I leave the room when you get on your soapbox. I was taught to respect you, but I don’t know if I have it in me anymore.

I remember you and Grandma arguing with my Dad about Mexicans over the dinner table every Sunday night for a few months. Something about driver’s licenses. I was a child and racism meant nothing in my white life.

I remember you scolding me for having a black boyfriend; I heard you spit a word that I was taught was poison. I was a teenager then and racism meant nothing in the face of my rebellious nature; you were the establishment and I expected friction.

I remember when you told me I was too good to work in Africa. You didn’t want your youngest granddaughter sleeping on mud floors or getting AIDS. I was older then so I laughed kindly at your ignorance, took it as a sign of love and filters lost.

I remember when I realized you were a racist. Casual, old age, Korean vet racist. Off the cuff, means well, mid-century racist. Apple pie, baseball, American flag racist. I’m a young woman now and it’s stopped being excusable. People allow it because of age, because of patriarchy, because you have seen some shit, but I can’t. I’d like my Papa back now. The one with warm, leathery hands and candy and a slow laugh. But now, I have you.

So excuse me as I shudder when you speak tonight around the table. When you tell us all you’re thankful for, all you have, all the love you’re surrounded with. Excuse me if I can’t eat; my mouth’s full of blood cause I’ve been biting my tongue all night.

Because you can’t fathom the privilege that allows you to breathe easy tonight. You can’t imagine the fear your vote has instilled in millions of people in this country. You can’t imagine what it means to the future, to the world, to my brothers or my mother or me.

I still love you, but I hope you stop being so afraid.

Love,
Me

bh