Walking along the beach with a friend from the Embassy staff, I heard myself say that sometimes I wished I was black. My friend laughed uproariously and when he could breathe again, said sometimes he wished he was white. At issue though isn't any sympathy or compassion on my part; it's just that I get treated differently by some folks, maybe because they aren't familiar with being themselves around a white guy, perhaps? Or leftover deference from earlier days maybe?
When I arrive in a neighborhood to visit with friends, I'm spotted all too quickly as the outsider. While I love the folks I meet, I'd rather be a friend than a curiosity. With their families, I'd rather be a thoughtful neighbor than just a resource. I have to work really hard to understand their lives and culture and circumstance; being white is often an obstacle in the process.
In our work here in Africa, it doesn't appear very often anymore; not like the earlier days. You can imagine how difficult it would be to get work done while someone is overly sensitive to race or class, especially in a problem-solving encounter. I much prefer the head-on confrontational encounters where everyone speaks, hears, and works hard for a good solution. :) That's been the norm among the Africans with whom I work (photo; I love these guys), but perhaps only after we're over the novelty of having a white guy around. Neither I nor my African associates mind volatile confrontation (non-violent, of course) as long as it means progress and clarity.