One problem with discussing race with white people (or people in general, actually), is that they take they view that as long as they are personally nice to a small group of black people, they are not being racist, even if they support political policies that disenfranchise black people as a group. To them, racism only exists among a small subset of people that one could call “lifestyle racists”: Klansmen, neo-Nazis, racist heathens, etc. Such a view ignores the fact that “lifestyle racists” are relatively rare in 2015, and most of them don’t live in mainstream society, because these delicate snowflakes can’t fathom the possibility of having to endure even casual contact with those they deem “lesser.” This view also ignores the fact that for a long time, the Klan was considered to be a fairly respectable organization that had the tacit support of the white population.
Once upon a time, a female journalist with a taste for history and erotica broke her leg and decided to spend her downtime writing a novel that could combine her two interests. The end result was a long, somewhat maudlin soap opera detailing the tempestuous love affair between two abusive, angry drunks. After being rejected by dozens of publishers, our heroine finally managed to get her opus published, where it was an instant success. Not only did this work conquer the bestseller lists, it was also adapted into a highly successful film that swept the 1940 Oscars and became even more of a pop culture icon than the original book. Alas, success was short-lived for our heroine, and she was killed roughly ten years after the release of the movie based on her only published work.