This article is from the source 'nytimes' and was first published or seen on . It last changed over 40 days ago and won't be checked again for changes.

You can find the current article at its original source at http://www.nytimes.com/2017/03/17/opinion/sunday/how-does-my-red-state-see-me.html

The article has changed 2 times. There is an RSS feed of changes available.

Version 0 Version 1
How Does My Red State See Me? What My Red State Sees in Me
(1 day later)
AUSTIN, Tex. — I saw my first loose gun in 2014 here in Austin. I was headed to lunch with a friend at a homey Mexican place near the University of Texas campus, where I was a graduate student. As we pulled into a parking spot on the side of the road, I noticed a white man — tall, with dirty yellow hair and crumpled white clothes — on the sidewalk. Seconds later, he had pulled out a pistol and was waving it at someone outside the restaurant. My friend ducked. I backed out, spun the car around, and drove off.AUSTIN, Tex. — I saw my first loose gun in 2014 here in Austin. I was headed to lunch with a friend at a homey Mexican place near the University of Texas campus, where I was a graduate student. As we pulled into a parking spot on the side of the road, I noticed a white man — tall, with dirty yellow hair and crumpled white clothes — on the sidewalk. Seconds later, he had pulled out a pistol and was waving it at someone outside the restaurant. My friend ducked. I backed out, spun the car around, and drove off.
Before this, Austin had begun to feel hostile for another reason: my skin color. (I am a United States citizen of Indian origin; I moved to the United States for college in 2001.) When I first arrived in Austin in 2012, from Bangalore, I was well apprised of its mythos of liberalism and “weirdness.”Before this, Austin had begun to feel hostile for another reason: my skin color. (I am a United States citizen of Indian origin; I moved to the United States for college in 2001.) When I first arrived in Austin in 2012, from Bangalore, I was well apprised of its mythos of liberalism and “weirdness.”
But what I experienced in my first week there was neither liberal nor weird: A landlady ignored my queries. A post had gone up on Craigslist describing a perfect small place in the pretty, largely white, downtown neighborhood of Clarksville; I responded seconds after it appeared. I got no reply, not even when I tried a day later.But what I experienced in my first week there was neither liberal nor weird: A landlady ignored my queries. A post had gone up on Craigslist describing a perfect small place in the pretty, largely white, downtown neighborhood of Clarksville; I responded seconds after it appeared. I got no reply, not even when I tried a day later.
I understood. This is the life of an Indian on Craigslist. But now I had a white girlfriend. Suspecting racism, she decided to apply. She got a response immediately.I understood. This is the life of an Indian on Craigslist. But now I had a white girlfriend. Suspecting racism, she decided to apply. She got a response immediately.
When we went to visit the landlady, who ran a hipster food company, we decided to say nothing about the previous emails — we were poor and desperate. But when I introduced myself, the landlady recognized my foreign-sounding name. “You’d emailed me, right?”When we went to visit the landlady, who ran a hipster food company, we decided to say nothing about the previous emails — we were poor and desperate. But when I introduced myself, the landlady recognized my foreign-sounding name. “You’d emailed me, right?”
“Yes, but don’t worry about it,” I said.“Yes, but don’t worry about it,” I said.
“I’m sorry I didn’t reply,” she said. “Your email just sounded so angry.”“I’m sorry I didn’t reply,” she said. “Your email just sounded so angry.”
Angry! I was thrown out of myself. Had I, I wondered, written her out of a corner of rage? It was only when I went back to my sublet and read my obsequious emails (“The price, size and location of your place sound great — and the pictures are beautiful”) that I felt a surge of relief — and then: real rage.Angry! I was thrown out of myself. Had I, I wondered, written her out of a corner of rage? It was only when I went back to my sublet and read my obsequious emails (“The price, size and location of your place sound great — and the pictures are beautiful”) that I felt a surge of relief — and then: real rage.
I settled into another apartment and began driving to the university for graduate school. Yet the first few times I parked my car on a permit-free street near campus, a middle-aged white man emerged from his Craftsman house, his cellphone at his ear, saying: “This the police? Yes, outsiders are parking here.” I believed this was racism and that I was in the right, but I worried he might damage the car I’d just bought. I eventually began walking to campus (though in car-obsessed Texas this felt like a kind of human revenge).I settled into another apartment and began driving to the university for graduate school. Yet the first few times I parked my car on a permit-free street near campus, a middle-aged white man emerged from his Craftsman house, his cellphone at his ear, saying: “This the police? Yes, outsiders are parking here.” I believed this was racism and that I was in the right, but I worried he might damage the car I’d just bought. I eventually began walking to campus (though in car-obsessed Texas this felt like a kind of human revenge).
At the airport, I was selected one morning from an all-white line — on a day I hadn’t shaved — for a “random scan” of my hands and told I had tested positive for “explosive traces.” The next thing I knew I was in a private room being patted down by two agents while my bags were searched.At the airport, I was selected one morning from an all-white line — on a day I hadn’t shaved — for a “random scan” of my hands and told I had tested positive for “explosive traces.” The next thing I knew I was in a private room being patted down by two agents while my bags were searched.
One day, driving to a mall in the suburbs with my mother, I was pulled over by a police officer from a long line of cars crawling at 50 in a 60-mile-per-hour zone. He chastised me for not knowing I was in a construction area with reduced speeds. Fair enough, but when I went to the municipal court to pay the ticket, the clerk saw the charges, laughed and dismissed them. “He didn’t even write the speed you were going at!” he said. I had suspected this. It had felt very much — from the tone, the pointed selection, the boredom — like harassment.One day, driving to a mall in the suburbs with my mother, I was pulled over by a police officer from a long line of cars crawling at 50 in a 60-mile-per-hour zone. He chastised me for not knowing I was in a construction area with reduced speeds. Fair enough, but when I went to the municipal court to pay the ticket, the clerk saw the charges, laughed and dismissed them. “He didn’t even write the speed you were going at!” he said. I had suspected this. It had felt very much — from the tone, the pointed selection, the boredom — like harassment.
There were subtler forms of racism too, so-called micro-aggressions.There were subtler forms of racism too, so-called micro-aggressions.
At a party hosted by a painter, a man turned to me — after asking everyone at the table about their professions — and said, flatly, “Let me guess, you’re in tech, right?” It was a gathering of artists; his own partner ran an art institute. When I responded that he was stereotyping — I am a novelist — he balked. The other people at the table, all white, pretended nothing had happened and steered the conversation elsewhere.At a party hosted by a painter, a man turned to me — after asking everyone at the table about their professions — and said, flatly, “Let me guess, you’re in tech, right?” It was a gathering of artists; his own partner ran an art institute. When I responded that he was stereotyping — I am a novelist — he balked. The other people at the table, all white, pretended nothing had happened and steered the conversation elsewhere.
This kind of denial of racism was common behavior in Austin. People here were so attached to their idea of a liberal city that they couldn’t see that it was strikingly segregated; that, till the 1970s, Austin had promoted a policy of segregation, pushing African-Americans and Hispanics to the East Side. They were now being weeded out of that area by gentrification (among the 10 fastest-growing major American cities, Austin is the only one losing its black population). History was not important; self-celebration and branding were.This kind of denial of racism was common behavior in Austin. People here were so attached to their idea of a liberal city that they couldn’t see that it was strikingly segregated; that, till the 1970s, Austin had promoted a policy of segregation, pushing African-Americans and Hispanics to the East Side. They were now being weeded out of that area by gentrification (among the 10 fastest-growing major American cities, Austin is the only one losing its black population). History was not important; self-celebration and branding were.
I also realized I had no idea how I was being viewed in this red state. As a would-be terrorist? A bright engineer? A job-stealing immigrant? An American?I also realized I had no idea how I was being viewed in this red state. As a would-be terrorist? A bright engineer? A job-stealing immigrant? An American?
I learned to swallow these questions. There were many people and things I liked about Austin and I let these hurts vanish. But they have come flooding back in the first months of the Trump presidency.I learned to swallow these questions. There were many people and things I liked about Austin and I let these hurts vanish. But they have come flooding back in the first months of the Trump presidency.
A few weeks ago, a white man shot two Indian engineers in Olathe, Kan., killing one of them. He thought they were Iranians. Early this month, a white man in Kent, Wash., shot a 39-year-old Sikh man in the arm, telling him, “Go back to your own country.”A few weeks ago, a white man shot two Indian engineers in Olathe, Kan., killing one of them. He thought they were Iranians. Early this month, a white man in Kent, Wash., shot a 39-year-old Sikh man in the arm, telling him, “Go back to your own country.”
These attackers, it turned out, knew not the first thing about Indians; they knew nothing about Islam. They knew only their hate. But I was reminded that America, which is an inward country, often breeds people who are only interested in things that reflect back on themselves. Ignorance about outsiders is a deeper American malaise. The gunmen’s crimes are crimes not of looking, but of looking furiously away.These attackers, it turned out, knew not the first thing about Indians; they knew nothing about Islam. They knew only their hate. But I was reminded that America, which is an inward country, often breeds people who are only interested in things that reflect back on themselves. Ignorance about outsiders is a deeper American malaise. The gunmen’s crimes are crimes not of looking, but of looking furiously away.