Ah, racism. We can find ways to genetically integrate an apple with an orange, but we still have problems with skin color. You may think this is only true in the quiet corners of Countrybumpkin, Alabansassippi, but it exists on this very campus. In fact, I witnessed two incidents of blatant racism this weekend. One was white toward black, then black toward white; what a freakishly balanced set of examples for a column, eh?

The first happened Friday night. It was some people and I hanging out at my friend Brodie’s house. Brodie happens to be black.

As we were standing outside mingling with the neighbors, I started talking with this guy who I didn’t know. I forget exactly what we were talking about because the real conversation started after he used the word “n***er” to describe someone. I pointed to the guy he walked outside with and said, “Hey, hey, come on. Isn’t that your friend right there?”

He replied saying that it was cool because his friend didn’t care if he used the word. Plus, he had a relationship with a black girl before; I suppose that is all it takes to get authorization for the word. I didn’t bother reasoning with him at this point and tried to ignore his ignorance.

To make matters worse, he then approached Brodie.

He continued discussing his authorization, stating, “I can say n***er to whoever I want.” My friend calmly smirked at me and then looked at him, saying, “It’s just a word, man.”

The kid, which I now perceived him as, went even further and boldly said to Brodie, “I mean I’m not calling you a n***er, you’re just as white as I am.” Brodie and I both looked at each other, then at the guy.

“Eh, I think if you’ll notice, Brodie’s pretty black, man,” we said.

“Well you know what I mean,” he said.

“Uh, not really at all, actually,” Brodie replied.

In case number two, I was the victim. In the early evening on Saturday, I was standing outside with my roommate as our neighbors were walking into their house. They are two very nice, polite, and lovely young black women. We introduced ourselves and they did the same. We small talked for a couple seconds before they told us they were having a party tonight and we should stop by if we want. We said thanks, we might swing by later on in the night.

After going to a couple different friends’ houses, we returned home and saw a large crowd both inside and outside of our neighbors. I asked my girlfriend if she wanted to go over there for a bit and she said sure. We walked up and saw that it was really crowded inside and decided to chill outside with everyone else.

I started talking to a couple of guys, trying to make small talk. I asked how it was inside and they said it isn’t the party for someone like you. Now, all the guys I was talking to were black, and the neighbors party consisted of predominantly black people. Sure, I knew I’d maybe stand out a bit, but I didn’t think it would be a problem.

I cannot say with certainty that the guy was being racist, but the undertone of the statement was quite clear.

In both cases, it was not necessarily that either party was trying to degrade a race, but they were associating skin color with a person’s personality or other external traits.

I think a lot of people need to realize that this is still racism. Sure, certain ethnicities tend to congregate together. The book “Why Are All the Black Kids Sitting Together in the Cafeteria?” helps explain this phenomenon.

Both of these cases proved the same thing. It is not that white people are racist, or black people are racist, or white people do one thing, or black people do one thing.

It proved that racist people are racist. It proved that my black neighbors, my Mexican roommate, my black friends like Brodie, the friends I have who are Asian and I all just simply like to have a good time together.

It’s ridiculous how some people still struggle with race at what should be a mature age, but I guess there’s still illiterate 40-year-olds, too.