I'll allow Bob to define himself.

I wonder if it’s up to each of us to define ourselves. On the first day of my racial dialogue class at the seminary, I got right to the point. I defined myself as a romantic idealist, a free-thinker and a liberal – in that order of importance. That’s what I want to be known as. And I’m wondering if many of us never bother to define ourselves. Because we don’t know who we are. And maybe that’s why we have a racist society. We allow other people to define us. So maybe that’s a primary lesson I’ve learned in life. Know who I am. And proudly proclaim it. If I don’t want to be known or categorized as a white or a black or a colored – well, then tell the world who I am. And what I want to be called. I’m not James or Mr. Broede. I’m Jim. Sometimes I don’t mind being called Crazy Jim. Or, when I was growing up, the family dubbed me the Czech words for “Big Mouth.” And I accepted that because it was done good-naturedly. It was meant in fun. And then I became a writer, in part, because it gave me opportunities to define myself. In words. Well, in the racial dialogue class, I inadvertently called Bob “colored” because I wasn’t fully listening to Bob. That’s my problem and generally that’s the problem of so-called whites in a white supremacy society. We don’t always listen to each other. We don't even understand sometimes that “colored” has a negative connotation to Bob. Because – well, he’s “colored,” designated as such when he was growing up in a racist society. He had to drink from the “colored” drinking fountain and had to sit in the “colored” section at the movie theater and had to attend the “colored” school and had to eat in the “colored” restaurant and had to swim at the “colored” beach. Yes, Bob was being defined by the white supremacy society. And now Bob objects to being called “colored” and I understand why. For very legitimate reasons. If I listen to Bob and respect Bob, I won’t ever call him “colored” again. I’ll allow Bob to define himself. --Jim Broede