I think I just committed an act of racial profiling – and what’s more, it was a good thing. An Hispanic mother and her two young daughters came to the door, looking to pick up “Devon” to take him to school. “He doesn’t live here”, I explained. They were distressed, for if they didn’t take him to school he wasn’t going to get there.
They didn’t know the address they were looking for either, so I couldn’t help them that way. But then I remembered that a new family had moved in two doors down about three months ago.
“Is he black?”, I asked. “Yes”, the older girl answered. I explained about some black kids having moved in. Her face lit up, “That makes sense, because he’s new in class!”
And so they thanked me, apologized for the bother, of which there was none, and everyone went on their way. It was a nice convergence of three races helping each other.
What bothered me about the incident is that it reminded me that our benighted powers-that-be have deemed mentioning race to be a bad thing. Under the beneficent regime of political correctness, how many times have you read of a dangerous criminal on the loose, and been given all kinds of identifying information save for the one parameter that would immediately reduce the field by anywhere from 50% to 85%: his race?
My guess is that they don’t want to feed racial stereotypes, both on the side of whites fearing non-whites and of non-whites having poor self-identity.
Those are laudable goals, but the problem is with their outcome-based strategy in reaching them. They are not telling us the truth and it is hurting us.