Shades of Mauve

Jane H. Hill, The Everyday Language of White Racism (via wretchedoftheearth)

*****

This is like when me and my white soon-to-be husband were looking for places. I’d call up and they’d say, “Come on down! Get an application!”. Because I don’t “sound” black.

Then I’d walk in 2 minutes later and they’d be all, “Oh. Sorry, we just rented it.”

Then I’d send him in and he’d get an application. 

The best part? Walking back in while he was completing the application. “Oh, they gave you an application? But they told me it was just rented. ODD. THAT. I’m going to report them so let’s just skip this place, m’kay?” The looks on their faces and the pathetic apologies were just too much fun.

Used to deal with the same thing with road trips. Hotels would tell me that there were no vacancies, but my white roommate would go in and get us a room, usually cheaper than advertised.

*****

(via faboomama)

I do similar stuff at restauants and other places of business with my white bf. At least it makes it easier to know where not to go!

(via 23andchildfree)

Reblogging again for the commentary

(via darkjez)

But we’re just supposed to *trust* and think everything is an *isolated* incident.

(via hamburgerjack)

Not so sophisticated scholars, were they? I mean this really, really shouldn’t be all that surprising.

(via stfunithingas)

It shouldn’t be surprising, but I guarantee that most white people find it unbelievable

(via wretchedoftheearth)

I’m going to reblog this every time I see it on my dash. My parents pointed out how this phenomenon worked when we were moving to PA (they’d get steered to crummier neighborhoods and have to insist on being shown others). Housing discrimination is still pretty widespread and the gatekeepers? Tend to either intentionally or due to unchecked bias reinforce the status quo. 

(via invisiblelad)

My sister-out-of-law works with relocating people who move for business (which includes getting the old house sold). One client balked at having the assessors she chose come look at his house, because, “It’s a really nice house,” and “It’s not in that neighborhood (where the assessing bank was)” and “Really, it’s worth over a million dollars, you need an assessor who understands high-end houses.”

Eventually she pulled out of him that the bank he didn’t trust was in a black neighborhood, and he was just certain that a black person wouldn’t recognize a house as fancy as his.

All of this was done over the phone and email, so the guy never knew that my sister out-law is black, too.