No Black Lights Were Available
New York Times contributor David Kaufman, writing here, wants us to know that he’s rendered distraught by “subtle streams of everyday racism that course through our homes, our workplaces, and the outside world.” An endless assault that “bombards people of colour.” People such as himself. It is, we’re told, time for a “cultural reckoning.”
For me, this reckoning begins with traffic signals.
Hm. Perhaps retracing our steps will help. Make things less confounding.
A few months back, before Covid-19 kept us in our homes and George Floyd made us take to the streets, I was walking with a friend, her daughter, and my twin sons. My friend is White and I’m not — something I’d never given a second thought until we reached a crosswalk. “Remember, honey,” she said to her daughter as we waited for the light to turn green, “we need to wait for the little White man to appear before we can cross the street.”
And in the very next breath:
I realise that White people like to exert control over nearly everything everyone does, I thought, but since when did this literally include trying to cross the street?
It’s a bold leap. Dense with assumptions. And hey, no racism there. Mr Kaufman – who can doubtless detect racism in the motions of subatomic particles – would have us believe that his friend was using the word white as a racial descriptor, rather than, as seems more likely, an unremarkable acknowledgement of a traffic light’s colour when talking to a child. In light of which, Mr Kaufman’s claims of being “bombarded” with racism – daily, everywhere – become at least explicable, if not convincing.
As a Black dad, I was struck by the language at play. How is it possible that well into the 21st century, parents all over Manhattan — well-meaning, #BLM-marching parents — are teaching their children to ask “little White men” for permission to cross the street? And why doesn’t this seem to bother them? It certainly bothered me.
The pedestrian crossing signal that so distresses Mr Kaufman – a rudimentary humanoid figure, made of white lights on a black background – can be seen here, from a safe distance. You may want to steady yourselves. It’s all very upsetting, at least for the exquisitely sensitive – people finer than ourselves, and who write for the New York Times. Mr Kaufman then goes on an investigative journey, in which he learns why, in a society with lots of non-English speakers, crossing signals with words – walk / don’t walk – are being replaced by simple, universal graphics, calibrated to capture attention – say, by using lights of a certain hue:
It’s “lunar white,” according to the Federal Highway administration: a shade of white with yellow and grey accents that mimics the colour of the moon. Lunar white wasn’t chosen because it sounds cool. According to FHWA research, the agency spokesperson says, moonlight offers “the peak sensitivity for the rod cells in the human retina.” In other words, our vision is predisposed to favouring the clarity and intensity of moonlight.
All sounds quite sensible. Rather than, say, a nefarious racial conspiracy intended to break the will of the negro. However, Mr Kaufman – for whom pretentious agonising is the very stuff of life, or at least the stuff of woke status – is not easily deterred.
But my heart still sinks at the spectre of teaching my sons to ask a White man for permission to do — well, anything. Because so much of the world already insists that we do.
Loaded and sweeping claims for which no evidence or explanation are deemed necessary, and which are nonetheless expected to command deference, are, it seems, a signature of Mr Kaufman’s prose. And presumably, his mental habits.
Nonetheless, that little White man woke me up to the ways that language imparts power and privilege even upon the most banal necessities. And so, as I begin teaching my boys survival basics like riding a bike, waiting in line, and… yes… crossing the street, I’ll work hard to avoid phrases like “little White man.”
Happily, Mr Kaufman devises a cunning alternative.
a bit of extra verbal labour is worth the price of not conceding our power to even one more little White man.
And so,
bright light person.
A triumph, then, of sorts. An act of radical defiance. Against sensible pedestrian crossings.
Heavens, buttons. I wonder what they do. 
Heavens, a button. I wonder what it does.
Heavens, an empty glass.
[ Raises eyebrow meaningfully in direction of the good stuff on the back wall while bringing out jam jar full of loose change ]
Heavens, an empty glass.
One Smoker’s Cough.
Coming up.
White people like to exert control over nearly everything everyone does
He sounds a bit racist.
bringing out jam jar full of loose change
Bless you, sir. May your modish, terribly modern toilet roll holder never detach from the wall at a critical moment, resulting in what sounds like a muffled struggle and an amused knock at the door enquiring as to your wellbeing.
Any fule kno that the continued excellence of a blog is directly proportional to the well-being of its host’s coiffeur.
Ping.
Titania on splendid form again: “Only a bigot would disagree”
Any fule kno that the continued excellence of a blog is directly proportional to the well-being of its host’s coiffeur.
It’s actually difficult to convey in words just how glorious my hair now is. I keep stroking it.
Ping.
Bless you, sir. May you never find yourself embroiled in a discussion as to whether the timers of microwave ovens should have one-second increments instead of five or ten.
The only racism I’ve seen in the last 10 years is people like Mr. Kaufman whining about their life. Maybe Nigeria has a better system to “allow you” to cross the road. In fact I’m sure they do and he should move there as soon as he and the “boys” can get a flight.
I realise that White people like to exert control over nearly everything everyone does
And he’s complaining about the ‘unintentional racism’ of crossing lights…?
And if it were a Little Black Man against a white background, he would be whining about slavery and the Little Black Man being forced to perform an endless chore of maintaining traffic signals.
Black fragility?
And if it were a Little Black Man against a white background…
As so often, it does seem that the conclusion was determined well in advance of any actual thinking, and regardless of particulars. For some, victimhood, however contrived, is like jewellery.
Send him to the former East Berlin…
Of course then he would probably offer up as screed as to why “STOP RED MEN” is a dog whistle for the East German genocide of native Americans and/or why the man going boldly forth signifying progress is in not proud Communist red.
Send him to the former East Berlin…
My question over time has been why the white figures instead of the traditional green. A very minor bit of googlemancy suggests wanting to have other than green for directing pedestrians, so that the drivers don’t get confused by an additional green light.
And I just lobbed a near random question at someone nearby: She thinks that yes, if she had a sea of red lights here and there, and then something flashed green, yes, she might take it as a green light for directing a vehicle.
My question over time has been why the white figures instead of the traditional green.
First reason is as given above, white on black (I denounce myself) offers the most visibility is all lighting situations, same reason why white numbers/letters on a black background are preferred for instrument panels and gauges.
Second reason is that there are anomalous trichromats and dichromats among us, the latter of whom have an especially hard time discriminating between red and green – also why “WAIT/WALK” and the stand/walk figures as opposed to just a light.
As far as red/green being confused with a traffic signal, that the streets of East Berlin weren’t perpetually jammed with the twisted wreckage of Trabants and Wartburgs means either that was never an issue, or they were just better drivers.
This button possesses a fatal attraction. Oh well, easy come, easy go. I may as well have a pint of Old Thompson’s Ferret Strangler and that sausage roll skulking behind the (overflowing) till. Skol!
This button possesses a fatal attraction.
It’s seductive, isn’t it?
Oh well, easy come, easy go.
It’s for the best. Bless you, sir. May your enemies be obliged to drink soup out of a carrier bag.
My visit behind the newly toppled iron curtain left me in little doubt that Trabbies were valued, looked after and driven with a considerable degree of care. When stuff is scarce people tend to be very careful when using it.
“a Little Black Man against a white background”
Wouldn’t that be worse? Black figure surrounded by whiteness?
“And why doesn’t this seem to bother them? It certainly bothered me.”
Very simple, you have chosen a mental disorder to hide behind whilst the others have remained normal. They see the cross walk light for what it is …. a f**king crosswalk light to control traffic so that your racist butt won’t get run over … even though it seems that it should get run over as a wake up call.
When you look for and see racism in pretty much everything, it might just be time for you to go back to Africa where there are almost no horrid white people to haunt your stupid butt.
Needless to say, the implausibly sensitive Mr Kaufman seems to regard being black as his job, the basis for his career and media profile. “As a black…” being a go-to sentence-starter.
It’s actually difficult to convey in words just how glorious my hair now is. I keep stroking it.
[reaches for bottle of hamster urine]
And if it were a Little Black Man against a white background, he would be whining about slavery
Engineers don’t design lights that way because they would have inferior visibility and require more illumination. Come the Revolution, of course, surviving engineers will do whatever the leftist shites demand.
As a Black dad, I was struck by the language at play. How is it possible that well into the 21st century, parents all over Manhattan — well-meaning, #BLM-marching parents — are teaching their children to ask “little White men” for permission to cross the street? And why doesn’t this seem to bother them? It certainly bothered me.”
The word “pedestrian” comes to mind.
Ironic, ain’t it?
Needless to say, the implausibly sensitive Mr Kaufman seems to regard being black as his job,
Oh.
Dear.
Judging from the Medium picture, black according to whom?
—See the search result and then click on it for the full page excerpt. . . .
Oh.
Dear.
He also uses the term “white adjacency.” Unironically, I mean.
A great deal is revealed by the fact that in Kaufman’s mind, colours are capitalised.
The word “pedestrian” comes to mind.
Oh, well played, Burnsie. I actually chuckled aloud at that.
Barkeep! May I request that Burnsie’s next cocktail get the ice cubes without the flies frozen inside? You can put the surcharge on my tab.
You just couldn’t make up nonsense such as this and be thought credible.
I suppose a thing to bear in mind is this. If your worldview, or professed worldview – the thing on which you hang your social identity and career – becomes sufficiently pretentious and absurd, it’s hard to walk back any claim, even laughable ones, without a serious risk to your ego – the whole thing could come unravelled. And any demurral has to be rationalised as either ignorance or wickedness. Racism, in this case, or privilege. And so, the pretension becomes entrenched and unshiftable, a mental tic. A kind of trap.
I mean, you wouldn’t want to spend much time in a head like that.
Barkeep! May I request that Burnsie’s next cocktail get the ice cubes without the flies frozen inside?
[ Reaches into Karl’s drink, up to the knuckle, scoops out ice cubes and relocates them in Burnsie’s drink. ]
We’re having issues with the freezer.
[shrugs]
Well I foolishly requested two fingers of the house gin.
@Hal
Reading that a man who spends his entire life moaning, agonising and wasting everyone’s time about race is openly laughed at when he tells Africans that he’s black amused me know end.
“Send him to the former East Berlin…”
I was about to mention British crossing signals. Presumably they’re racist against Martians.
We need a specific word for people who obsess over trivialities rather than taking on ACTUAL SERIOUS problems; those, in other words, who look like they’re terribly concerned but are little more than a distraction.
We need a specific word for . . . .
Juniors?
Mr. Kaufman quotes the lady speaking to her children: “…we need to wait for the little White man to appear before we can cross the street.”
Now that’s some carefully considered, strategic, *dishonest* use of capitalization! To impute racism to a “friend”, no less.
I was wondering in the first part why Mr. Kaufman was capitalizing “White”, when leftists usually capitalize “Black” but leave “white” lower case. And then, I saw.
Now that’s some carefully considered, strategic, *dishonest* use of capitalization! To impute racism to a “friend”, no less.
Well spotted.
[ Plunges hand into Burnsie’s drink, scoops up remains of ice, drops it into Hyppogryph’s glass. ]
Mr Kaufman
Why does he still keep his slave name?
On the evidence, this seems oxymoronic.
It is a frustrating and ultimately radicalizing phenomenon that the dark specter of racism is always descending from our systems and institutions yet only lands on “banal necessities”. Why, it’s almost as if the entirety of Project Left is to rile up the troops without them noticing who the general is.
Another possibility being a much smaller pool of vehicles available to wreck.
Fiction bears the burden of plausibility.
Black fragility?
As I’ve been fond of saying for many years: Projection ain’t just a river in Egypt.
What was once a throw away line on black twitter is now the book to be seen with! It is ridiculous how stressful a situation can become when people realize they are in the presence of someone who will actively seek to be offended by everything around them.
The worst part is people have been training themselves to be offended, including your own school or company trying to inflict this on you. The second worst part is the forced integration – everyone will agree a “whites only” space is somehow terrible, but minorities require their own spaces where they aren’t required to undergo the stress of pretending for white people.
Why does he still keep his slave name?
Hmmm Kaufman…would that be the East African Kaufmans or the West African Kaufmans? Kaufman is the Smith of the African phone book.
We need a specific word for people who obsess over trivialities rather than taking on ACTUAL SERIOUS problems
It isn’t really those people who are a problem. I’d be delighted for students to protest to their university’s Diversity, Inclusion and Equity department about the perceived sexuality of their dorm room door handles – seeing either semi-erect penises, or flapping vaginas depending on their proclivities.
Where the problems start are when these mentally deficient children get degrees in “feminist urban geography” and start trying to impose their “solutions” on the rest of us. And for those we have numerous words, starting politely with social justice warrior and progressing rapidly to spoiled, preening, screeching, shit-bag.
Sheesh. Did the person say “little WHITE MAN” or “LITTLE white man”? Big difference.
Did the person say “little WHITE MAN” or “LITTLE white man”?
I heard “little white MAN”. But that’s me. Living under the appendage of the patriarchy.
What will those sons do should they end up working for a white supervisor?
No, I’m not white. I’m Black like you.
I am genuinely puzzled by the extent to which Americans of any degree of African ancestry, however marginal, have internalised the truly racist ‘one drop rule’.