The Beauty of Integrated Segregation
In Montgomery, Alabama, more than half a century ago in referencing the problem of segregation, a man asked the question: “How Long?” He rhetorically answered, “Not long.” However, in a country that specializes in improving iterations of its failures, the question should have been, “How insidious?”
In curiously dissecting the answer, it appears that the design of integration and equality can be likened to a stained glass window and Young’s Double-slit Experiment of 1801:
A stained glass window appears to be beautifully integrated with color, but is, nonetheless, a glass barrier. Thus, leaving an accuser of discrimination with the weight of proving that such a beautiful structure is ultimately damning. One’s success rate in doing so drops, because the appearance of its beautifully integrated colors awes its viewers. Subsequently, the individuals who make up the colored pieces are blind to the stagnation of their achievements to move beyond integration. Insidiousness by design.
In terms of physics, the social-economic advancements of integration in housing and education have, almost identically, taken on the resultants of Young’s double-slit experiment: (slit 1) the doors of home ownership opened as did the doors of mainstream educational opportunities (slit 2). However, like Young’s experiment, the practices of equal integration have resulted in multiplying segregated communities across our nation. It is the arrival and advancement of the initial few that gives rise to the appearance of successful integration. If one continues to watch the process of integration, the reality of our deeply-seeded segregatory practices becomes clear–just as clear as the wave pattern in Young’s 1801 experiment.
The man and father who spoke in Montgomery, Alabama, that day continued to say (also with a reference to physics): “The arc of the moral universe is long but it bends towards justice.” This may be true for a moral universe. Unfortunately, segregation is designed with intent and it is anything but moral. Of course, philosophically, anything is debatable–the outcomes, however, speak for themselves.
Dismayed with morality: Years ago, I met that man’s wife and cried in her arms over the human lack of intelligent collaboration. Not much has changed since that time. This man’s own daughter even called out that lack of change when, on a separate occasion, I heard her speak. Like her father’s question and answer, she posed another rhetorical question. However, this time her painfully passionate question was posed to our inner souls: Given that so little had changed, in terms of the continued practices of segregation, why then, did she have to sacrifice a lifetime of experiences with her father and her children’s grandfather? Was her sacrifice just for us to come listen to her and say that we saw the daughter of a famous man and, yet, have no obligation to continue her father’s dream?
Sadly, it appears we have become content with the beautifully stained glass windows that allow us to shop at Walmart or Whole Foods. We are content, as in the movie Hidden Figures, with not having to run across a campus to specified bathrooms. We are content with staying in segregated hotels that allow us to sleep in their under-the-radar segregated rooms. We are content with the design of associative mating which promote targeted luxury communities and, quite simply, replicate Young’s experiment with schools and housing; and subsequently, we are content with higher-paying lower waged jobs.
Must one be lynched with a knee on national television for our nation to awaken to the painted boundaries of our stained-glass borders? Look again at the outcome of Young’s experiment. One can see that it is not just the darker colors that are segregated. So, the question which that man, Dr. King, asked more than a half-century ago could be followed with two questions: When will we see how insidious the practices of integrative segregation are? And, what are we doing to make sure that our children and the generations of King children will not have to ask, “How long?”
Young’s Double-Slit Experiment