Crash (2004)

IMDB

A movie that is superficially about race. As it should be, since most race based bigotry is only superficially about race as well. Nobody hates black people because they're black. They hate black people because they are scared of them. This is a movie, spot on in this way, that is about fear and how race colors it.

I've often asked myself if I'm racist. I don't mean that in the Klan-mask, white-supremacist way, in which case I'm decidedly not and have great disdain for those who seek that route (and have great disdain for whatever flaw in their minds make them believe the twisted logic they contrive to justify those beliefs). I mean it in the way that we are all racist. That is, if I see a young black man walking down the street, do I feel more threatened than if I see a young white man walking down the street? What if the young black man is dressed in a suit? What if he's all urban baggy pants and sideways hat?

By that token, what if the white guy is a batshit crazy hick? Michael Moore had a very funny rant where he talked about how he crosses the street when he comes across white people. In my experience, I've been fucked with more by white guys than black guys, or asian guys, or latino guys combined. More chest puffing, name calling and macho shit come out of wayward white jocks in search of a battlefield than any other group, in my direct experience.

Isn't that what we should be talking about? Experience? My father was a big proponent of integration and bussing in Los Angeles during the '70s, where I was bussed myself to Palms Jr. High (ironically, before I was old enough--some bonehead in the LA School District thought it would be a good idea to bus 5th and 6th graders onto a Jr. High School campus. Not smart, that), and some members of his congregation were aghast--especially one man whose daughter had been attacked by a black kid in a classroom. That man, based on his instinct to protect his daughter, was decidedly against bussing. Was he racist?

Which of course, is the question at hand. Am I racist? Is it racist to have a knee-jerk reaction to somebody because of their skin color? I would say most people do this, and most people who are aware of it attempt to compensate--even overcompensate. This movie shows those compensations, breakdowns of the internal dialogue, and through a series of incredibly improbable coincidences brings the characters together to confront their own fears. My favorite character was probably the black producer of the television show, who really got it from all ends and was driven to extremes. As a teenage punk rawker I'd interact with rude people and wonder if they didn't like me because of my clothing, or if they just didn't like me. But, of course, I could change my appearance. I can only imagine what must go through a black person's mind when somebody is rude to them. Like when I was playing in a band with a guy who had his vintage Fender Twin Reverb (that he had painted bright blue) ripped off from a gig, and two weeks later a black guy came into the guitar shop I ran to sell it to me. "That's a stolen amp" I said. "Is it because I'm black that you're accusing me of stealing an amp?" he said. "I'm not accusing you of anything" I said. "But, that's a stolen amp." This guy, he claimed (and I believed him, for what it was worth) traded the amp for some photography gear. We worked it out to everyone's satisfaction without calling in the cops, but that reaction--whether he was being genuine or trying to use white guilt to manipulate me--must be something that pops into his mind everytime a roadblock is thrown up.

Racism also colors every day perceptions. I once sat out on my apartment's front stoop when I lived on Capitol Hill some years ago, on 23rd. I was smoking a cigarette, and two black teens walked by, very street looking. One of them said "Yo, man--can I have a cigarette?" I held my pack out, and he took one. "Yeah, my favorite." he said. I lit it and he walked away. I pondered that for awhile. My favorite--is this some hip-hop term of affection? Is he calling me out for doing him right? It was only later that my rational mind informed me, politely so as not to make me feel like too much of a rube, that he was talking about my brand. The dude liked Camels.

Which is why simplistic solutions to race problems are more problematic sometimes than what they attempt to address. The issue is layered and complex. Cultural history is deep and strongly remembered and not easily set aside, even if those who experience its fallout are ignorant of it. At the tip of Broadway here in Seattle, right at Harvard is a condo that used to be a gas station. When they were building the condo a few years ago, the area was fenced off and the fence was strung with boards painted by elementary school kids. One showed Opie and Garfield and said "THEY stopped fighting. Can YOU?" This used to crack us up every time we saw it, because it was sweet and direct and innocent. But then--and maybe readers of Garfield can fill me in here if I'm wrong--I don't think they did stop fighting. And I don't think we will anytime soon. Movies like this may not be the solution--in one way it's just another sign on the fence--but in the larger scheme of things attempting to talk about those layered emotions masking our fear might be a way to help more than another TV show that perpetuates stereotypes. Or, maybe it's preaching to the converted and I only enjoyed the film because I'm prone to think about these things naturally.