I am a blonde, blue eyed white guy of Anglo-Saxon heritage, who grew up wealthy in the Miami of the 1950s. I'm an attorney, with family money, who did a career in the Air Force because I didn't need to make my fortune, and because I was brought up to believe that you put something back. I retired a few years ago, as a senior officer. I'm a little over 50 now, and haven't worked a day since. Nor do I intend to do so. Bear with me here; there is a point to this.
I love watermelon. I mean I LOVE watermelon. My wife thinks this is a PITA because she is the one who gets to deal with getting rid of the rinds every summer.
The last time I saw watermelon served up at a communty picnic was on the 4th of July at Seymour Johnson AFB, NC, in the mid 80s - a little over 20 years ago. The kids loved it. A fair number of the kids were black kids. I was wandering around taking photographs of everything, trying out a new camera, and as I looked through the view-finder, I spotted these kids eating the watermelon, having a great time as kids do, and I just couldn't take the picture. It looked like such a caricature that it literally made me cringe. So I passed. But I've never forgotten that moment.
I find it really hard to believe that if somebody with a background like mine would react that way some 20 years ago, that somebody, anybody, with a brain wouldn't react that way today. Unless they were trying to make a point. And a damned nasty one at that. Sheesh. What was this guy thinking?
Before I retired in 1991, one of my black engineers and I were in the line at the cafeteria. As we passed some beautiful slices of watermelon he said "I'd love to have one of those but I wouldn't dare put it on my tray". I asked him which one he wanted, put it on my tray and we went back to my office to eat lunch.
Why do stereotypes allow people to keep from enjoying themselves?