You know, it’s funny. The chief reason we “know” Aunt Jemima is racist is because certain scholars have kept the racism alive by outlining its history.
I was one of perhaps a multitude of people who found Aunt Jemima endearing and sweet, so to speak. The sculpted bottles were adorable, and animated, they were a part of my own childhood, even if we didn’t really patronize the brand much, as a family. I grew up loving Aunt Jemima, and more importantly, I grew up completely ignorant of her racist history and only knew her for what she was, a sweet motherly doting woman of color.
Racism is not a problem in my neighborhood. It is not a problem in my sphere of existence. It is only a problem with imaginary people on Twitter and in the mainstream media, people who make a living by keeping racism alive by claiming that they see it everywhere. Know what? I don’t. I look around and I see diverse people just getting by and loving one another.
And what dismays me the most is the erasure of minority stalwarts in the grocery store such as Jemima, Mia, and Ben. How will minorities now be represented on the shelves of white people like me?