People in my current town know the north side is much different than the south side. They are different so much so I actually avoid visiting the north side whenever possible, and not for the reason some might assume. <\/p>\n\n\n\n
First, it must be established for anyone who may not know, I’m caucasian, or in general vernacular, white. I grew up in a very rural village that was still segregated, just not segregation enforced by laws. Therefore, during my formative years, I had very little interactions with anyone with browner skin than mine, and those interactions were almost always in a school setting. If I attempted to have a brown friend, I’m pretty sure my dad would have killed me or would have gotten damn close. My world was a very “white” world.\u00a0<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Back to my story today. I avoid the north side of my current town; however, I found myself on the north side following a doctor’s appointment. It was already well past lunch time, so I stopped at the first McDonald’s I could find. Kids always love McDonald’s. <\/p>\n\n\n\n
However, upon entering that restaurant, my hackles went up, unease shot through me, I was immediately on guard, and I didn’t know why. My gut was just screaming, “Watch your back; this ain’t right.”<\/p>\n\n\n\n
I started scanning everything, looking for a cause: a robber hiding behind the counter, a disheveled serial killer sitting alone in a booth, an oppressive boss that openly yells at his workers. But there was nothing like that. <\/p>\n\n\n\n
So we ordered, gathered our food and sat down. My brain was running a mile a minute, so to speak. Then it hit me, and I quietly said to my family something along the lines of “It’s too white in here.”<\/p>\n\n\n\n
A scene that I wouldn’t have noticed when I was a kid, now had me on edge, maybe even a tad afraid. But it was too white, as in caucasian; everyone from the customers to the fry cook was white. It was not normal, at least not what I now consider normal.\u00a0<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Joining the military exposed me to lots of cultures. My “drill sergeant” was Hispanic, my first supervisor was Hispanic and first commanding officer was “black”. My world rapidly changed drastically and for the better. My supervisor even invited me to his mom’s place, and I got to enjoy authentic “Hispanic” food and eat with so many members of his family. Granted, being the only out of place white boy, I repeatedly embarrassed myself as I tried to fit in. That memory still haunts me. Na\u00efve me. <\/p>\n\n\n\n
The military in many ways is a condensed sample of the melting pot that is America. During my time, I also traveled from Singapore and Japan to Diego Garcia and Afghanistan, and many points in between.\u00a0 While I had not visited every country, or experienced every culture, I quickly learned to admire the wide array of humans in our world, and the vast majority are good, kind, loving and welcoming people. With each new experience, my view changed, broadened, even “wisened”.\u00a0<\/p>\n\n\n\n
After 25 years in the military, I don’t see the world the same way. America is not just one culture, it welcomes and embraces all cultures. Every culture adds more depth, greater dimension, to America’s collective culture. America is not one color; it’s a range of colors. This is what makes America great; it always had, whether some want to admit it or not. From the Native Americans and Irish to the Africans and Asians on to the Hispanic and Arabic, they were all critical in making America what is today, and shamefully, more often than not, we treated them poorly for it.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
I’m glad for my experience and new view of the world I now have. I’m comfortable in this mixture, where we are different but uniquely together. That is America, the America I’m comfortable with and thankful for. However, not every place represents America’s mixture and diversity; those places are just too damn white.\u00a0<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
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