Why do some Hispanic parents dislike black people

Since I've been together with my black friend, my view of Germany has changed

Before I even started dating my boyfriend, shortly after we met on Tinder, he sent me a voice message and asked, "How do you feel about the Black Lives Matter movement?" It wasn't until months later that he told me that my answer was the reason he could imagine a relationship with me: he told me he couldn't be with a white woman if he couldn't talk to her about the experiences that he does as a black man. I already knew back then that non-white people risked being frisked by the police on every train journey, that my Syrian friends on Tinder would be unmatched as soon as they reveal their origin, and which books and blogs I had to read when I did something wants to learn about multiple discrimination against black women. But in six months in a relationship with a black man, I realized: Germany is even more racist than I thought.

My boyfriend is 28 and from London. Before he started visiting me again and again in Berlin, he was exactly twice in Germany. His German vocabulary is limited to basic courtesies such as "Guten Tag" and "Dankeschön" - and bizarre expressions such as "flood through" that he once picked up from my drunken friends. Just a few hundred meters behind Schönefeld Airport, he could see that Germany is less multicultural than his hometown London. Nevertheless, he says: "When my buddy said that he was turned away at the door of a Berlin club because of the color of his skin, I thought he had the wrong first impression of the city."

Abroad, Berlin is seen as a colorful enclave of cultural freedom, where on Sunday mornings Spanish Berghain revelers in black net shirts ride through Kreuzberg next to tired kebab shop owners. Berliners, too, especially those who have moved from the German provinces and metropolises around the world, consider the city to be cosmopolitan. And I, too, was always proud when I was able to show my parents a world when visiting Kottbusser Tor that they don't know from their home in Luxembourg: When women wearing hijab with their children next to tilt-turning students from Baden-Württemberg at 24 -Hourly flower shops ran past through the street, they found Berlin "super cool". But since I've been walking through the city with a black man holding hands, I've seen a side of Berlin that obviously doesn't think it's so "super cool" when people don't look like a cliché potato.

A guy asked my friend if he wanted to fight a Nazi

There is the guy with the "Lonsdale" shirt and the tattooed iron cross on his shins, who first mocks us and then asks my friend if he would like to "fight with a Nazi". The sweaty man in the orange undershirt, who hisses to my friend while passing lunch, saying that there are "only black people in this country". He used a different word. The doorman of a bar in Berlin-Mitte, who slams the door in front of us at 10 p.m. because "a private event is taking place". Half an hour earlier, I had clicked on "interested" at the public Facebook event.


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When we wanted to spend the afternoon in a Berlin beach club last weekend, a bouncer literally got in the way of our plans: after he asked me who I was with and I pointed out my friend, he said it there are no more loungers available. The doorman had said that to the three blond people in front of us - he left them with a smile and the words "have fun!" in anyway. When I pointed this out to him repeatedly and asked why my friend and I weren't allowed to go to the swimming pool, he said, "You argue too much." While a group of people were leaving the swimming pool - and their loungers - behind him, he sent us away. When we positioned ourselves outside of his field of vision, we saw how other people in the queue were allowed in.

These are just a few of the obvious attacks on my friend. Much more often they are more subtle: judgmental glances on the train, on the street or in the supermarket, with which people show what they think of him - or of us as an ethnically mixed couple. "Sometimes it seems as if white men want to tell me, 'You come here and take our women away from us,'" says my friend.

When I am traveling alone as a white woman, I do not experience racism. And if I didn't find out more about it on social media or had an ethnically mixed group of friends, I might not notice how common it is in Germany. Not having to deal with racism is a privilege. In the picturethe deputy outraged at the weekend BamS-Editor-in-chief Christian Lindner: "Let's not be persuaded that we are racist." In the comments under # MeTwo tweets, numerous users put the racism experiences of those affected into perspective - or even claim that the reports were made up.

This is us

For whites who attach racism to whether they address black people with the N-word and do not recognize that those affected are being systematically discriminated against, #MeTwo has to be a real mindfuck. But instead of reflecting on how they themselves - consciously or unconsciously - are jointly responsible for these experiences, many react as aggressively as if someone had just told them they would have to kill ten puppies as a punishment for their ignorance. Even people who, like me, classify themselves as politically left-wing can learn a lot from the experiences of those affected. It's only since I've been sharing parts of my life with a black man that I have known: Even a diverse Twitter timeline does not mean that, as a white man, I understand how much racism victims in Germany experience every day - or how this experience feels to them. If I had an all-white circle of friends, this realization might have come much later - or not at all.

My friend recently called his buddy and apologized for not taking his Berlin report seriously at the beginning. Two months ago he was sending out applications so that he could move in with me at some point. Today he says he only came here to see me. Of course that makes me sad. But I'm trying to understand him. And I wish other people would too.

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