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We are at an impasse over race because we cannot forgive, declared Spencer Perkins in what became his last public statement. Speaking at a conference on racial reconciliation last January, the activist and writer confessed his past struggles in dealing with "white folks" and how he discovered a radical way forward in healing our racial divide. The following week he died of heart failure at the age of 44. Perkins, along with Chris Rice, directed Reconcilers Fellowship in Jackson, Mississippi, coauthored More than Equals: Racial Healing for the Sake of the Gospel (IVP), and coedited Reconcilers magazine.

It was winter 1970, and my mother was taking my seven siblings and me to visit our father in the hospital. No auto accident or natural illness had landed him in this life-threatening condition. Rather, it was the nightsticks and fists of white law-enforcement officers that had nearly beaten him to death for his civil-rights activities.

My sister Joanie, then 14 years old, took one look at my battered father and stormed out of the room repeating angrily, "I hate white people. I will never like them!"

My mother tried to convince her that her attitude was not very Christlike. But at that moment, with my father lying bruised and swollen, I could tell that even though my mother knew the right things to say, her heart was not in the words she spoke.

Not that it would have mattered. My sister was having no part of those tired, old words—love and forgiveness—anyway. Those white people were not going to get off that easily. All of us siblings wanted those men to get what they deserved. To our knowledge, they never did.

Today, to the casual observer, my sister looks as though she has reneged on her vow. She has white friends, attends an interracial church, and functions well in a white environment. But all her life, like many African Americans, Joanie has had a safe, time-tested method for emotionally dealing with whites.

There is a scene from the movie Roots that illustrates the way blacks tend to label whites. Tom and his family (newly freed slaves) have befriended a poor white couple. Against tradition, George and Mary treat their new black friends as equals. One night Tom is visited by white night riders, tied to a tree, and about to be horse-whipped for being "uppity." In a backhanded way, George saves Tom's life by demanding that he deliver the whipping.

Afterward, Tom's young son sits in tears on the porch with Mary. Summoning all the hate and bitterness an eight-year-old can muster, he vents his feelings. "I hate white folks," he sobs bitterly. "And if I get a chance I'll do to them what they did to my daddy."

"But what about me and George?" Mary asks. "We're white."

The boy looks up as if surprised that Mary could say such a silly thing. "But you and George are different," he says. "You good white people."

This is precisely how many blacks deal with whites today. From a distance, they are "white folks" and therefore suspect. Once we get to know them up close and personal, we may mentally remove them from the "bad" category.

Explaining this procedure is risky. Generalizations are always dangerous; and many of my black brothers and sisters feel that revealing our secrets in mixed company borders on treason. But there are also many of us African Americans who are growing tired of the tiptoeing that takes place in so many racial-reconciliation gatherings. For us, it is time to move into deeper waters.

White folks
There is an automatic mental procedure that takes place for many blacks upon first meeting a white. First a decision must be made as to whether or not we will give him or her the time of day. If so, then, immediately the "Is he for real or phony?" antennas are raised, the "white superiority" sensors powered up, and the "racism" detector activated—all in an effort to analyze quickly any "vibes" and interpret any data, verbal or nonverbal, from the subject. All this is necessary to determine whether the white person deserves special consideration as an "individual," that is, a "good white person," or as a "typical" white person who should be quickly relegated to the simple category "white folks," as in "You know how white folks is."

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July 13 1998, Vol. 42, No. 8