Racism's strange idea of following the rules

By WILL LOW*

It's funny how such a deeply personal journey could start with a short bus ride down Queen St. Then again, the Chinese say a journey of a thousand miles begins with one step.

I was getting on the free city circuit bus when the driver said: "You can't get on the bus. No food allowed on the bus."

My response was no more than an incredulous "Excuse me?"

I was told again in no uncertain terms that the rules said no food on the bus. I had a box of donuts that I was taking home to my two sons who share my passion - a part of our Canadian, rather than our Chinese, cultural heritage.

I assured the driver that I was not going to eat the food. I even offered to put the box in my backpack.

"That's what everyone says," came the reply. "And they eat it anyway and make a mess."

The driver was adamant, but I was even more so. I was not leaving this bus. I demanded the phone number of the bus company and to know how to make a complaint.

Minutes had passed by now and the driver wavered - other passengers were agitated and uncomfortable about the confrontation.

If I put the donuts in the backpack, I was told, I would be allowed on.

But what made my blood really boil was not the driver (which was bad enough); it was a passenger who was supporting the driver. He barred my way until I had clipped my pack shut, saying: "If you want to live in this country, follow the rules."

I was momentarily dumbstruck, so I will be forever grateful to the young man next to him who stood up and said loudly: "I'm not going to sit next to a bloody racist."

I made a couple of choice remarks that I'd rather not repeat, and my new-found ally and I went to sit at the back of the bus.

Maybe it was because it has been years since I came face to face with racism that made it hit me so hard. Racism seems thankfully rare in the ivory tower where I have been lucky enough to cloister myself.

This encounter made me think again about the furore over immigration that raged around the New Year. My crime was openly (and innocently) carrying food on to the bus. I was immediately judged to be "one of those" who would invariably eat that food and make a mess.

My brush with racism points out the absurdity of Winston Peters' demands that Asian immigrants need to speak English to be "good" New Zealanders. Ditto the infamous Tebbitt cricket test to judge the loyalty of an immigrant to his or her new home. Acceptance is meant to come when you are, literally, "whiter than white".

For those who know little about the history of American civil rights, Rosa Parkes helped spark the movement by refusing to do what "good Negroes" did: sit at the back of the bus, follow the rules, blend in, try to be invisible.

And like hers, my "race" isn't something I can simply put away in a backpack, unlike the donuts.

The simple fact is that nothing I can do will ever be enough for the true racist. I speak - dare I say - excellent English. I even played rugby for my school.

But when the Gestapo came for the Jews, or Mugabe's thugs seized farms, they didn't stop to have a quick chat to see what language their victims spoke or what sports they played. Hardcore racism is about prejudice, stereotypes and blind hatred - sometimes with horrifying results.

I'm not claiming for a moment that anything similar is about to happen here, even if Winston Peters also talks about race riots. I don't even count him as a racist; that would almost be giving him too easy a way out. Like most of his ilk, he is simply pandering to a latent racist element for electoral advantage.

There is a point to remember for anyone who claims not to be a racist but would at the same time (possibly unthinkingly) parrot that phrase: "If you want to live in this country, follow the rules." It isn't what I do that matters so much as how you react to it.

I got my donuts home in the end, slightly mashed because they couldn't lie flat in their box while in my backpack. And I told my two sons they should make sure to really enjoy them because of the story of their journey.

I think those donuts helped to wash away the bitter taste in my mouth. It probably won't be so easy when my sons really encounter racism for themselves, as they almost inevitably will.

Oh yes, as for the racist passenger, the driver let him off when the bus was stopped at a traffic light. Contrary to the rules, I believe.

So much for one law for everyone.

* Will Low teaches management at the University of Auckland.