Jared Christensen Character Analysis

SJ: Sorry. It’s just—you’re completely oblivious to the struggles of anyone outside your little social group.

Jared: Whatever, SJ.

SJ: I’m serious. What about the economic disparities? What about the fact that proportionally speaking, there are more people of color living in poverty than white people? Have you even thought about that?

Jared: Dude, Manny drives a Range Rover.

Manny: What does that have to do with anything?

Jared: No beef, dude. I’m just saying your folks make way more money than mine.

Manny: Okay. They worked really hard to get to where they are, so—

Jared: I’m not saying they didn’t, dude. You just proved my point. Black people have the same opportunities as white people in this country if they’re willing to work hard enough. Manny’s parents are a perfect example.

SJ: My point is I’ve seen you commit the same crime Shemar Carson had on the “criminal record’’ you mentioned.

Jared: Whatever, SJ.

SJ: I know you’d prefer to ignore this stuff because you benefit from it, but walking around pretending inequality doesn’t exist won’t make it disappear, Jared. You and Manny, who are equal in pretty much every way apart from race, could commit the same crime, but it’s almost guaranteed that he would receive a harsher punishment than you.

Jared: Can you believe that asshole? What kind of teacher has the nerve to suggest there’s racial inequality to a classroom full of millennials?

Kyle: Seriously, bro? He said that shit?

Jared: I kid you not, bro. The dean should fire his ass. I seriously might have my dad give the school a call.

“[…] We had this discussion in class today, and…I don’t know, Ma. Everything I’m doing right now feels like a losing battle.”

She nodded. “Hard being a black man, ain’t it?”

I shrugged. “Guess that’s one way to put it. All I know is I can’t seem to find where I fit. Especially at that school.”

“Hmm.”

[…]

She crossed her arms and lifted her chin, and that’s when I knew there’d be no sympathy. “So watchu gon’ do? Run away?”

I sighed. “I don’t know, Mama.”

“You think coming back here will solve your problem?”

“At least I’d be around people who know the struggle.”

She snorted. “Boy, you betta get your behind on up that school.”

Let’s observe, shall we? I’m ranked number two in our class, I’m captain of the baseball team, I do community service on weekends, and I got higher test scores than Justyce . . . yet he got into Yale early action, and I didn’t. I know for a fact it’s because I’m white and he’s black.

Now say you have a black guy—not Justyce, but someone else—whose single parent’s income falls beneath the poverty line. He lives in a really crummy area and goes to a public school that has fifteen-year-old textbooks and no computers. Most of the teachers are fresh out of college and leave after a year. Some psychological testing has been done at this school, and the majority of students there, this guy included, are found to suffer from low self-esteem and struggle with standardized testing because of stereotype threat—basically, the guy knows people expect him to underperform, which triggers severe test anxiety that causes him to underperform.

[…]

Now erase the two backgrounds. We’ll keep it simple and say GPA-wise, you have a four-point-oh and he has a three-point-six. Test scores, you got a fifteen-eighty, right? Well, this guy got an eleven-twenty. Based on GPA and scores only, which one of you is more likely to get into a good college?

It’s like I’m trying to climb a mountain, but I’ve got one fool trying to shove me down so I won’t be on his level, and another fool tugging at my leg, trying to pull me to the ground he refuses to leave. Jared and Trey are only two people, but after today, I know that when I head to Yale next fall (because I AM going there), I’m gonna be paranoid about people looking at me and wondering if I’m qualified to be there.

“You coming over here asking us to help you use a black girl IS a big deal, Blake. That’s not to mention you tossin’ the n-word around like you own it.”

Blake: You don’t own it any more than I do, bro. Nobody owns words. I’d think you’d know that as someone “smart enough” to get into Yale.

Manny: All right, y’all, let’s calm down before this gets outta hand.

Justyce: It’s already outta hand, Manny. Your boy Blake is a racist.

Blake: What is it with you people and the goddamn race card, huh?

Justyce: We people. You realize Manny is one of us peo­ple too, right?

Blake: Except Manny’s got some sense and doesn’t make everything about race. Why don’t you loosen the hell up?

“That’s what it was like for me at the new school. Every­body saw me as black, even with the light skin and green eyes. The black kids expected me to know all the cultural references and slang, and the white kids expected me to ‘act’ black. It was a rude awakening for me. When you spend your whole life being ‘accepted’ by white people, it’s easy to ignore history and hard to face stuff that’s still problematic, you feel me?”

“I guess.”

“And as for you, the only way you’re gonna thrive is if you’re okay with yourself, man. People are gonna disrespect you, but so what? Guys like Jared don’t have any bearing on how far you get in life. If you know the stuff they’re say­ing isn’t true, why let it bother you?”

“[…] My point is the world is full of guys like Jared and that employee, and most of them will never change. So it’s up to you fellas to push through it. Probably best not to talk with your fists in the future…” He nudged Manny. “But at least you have an idea of what you’re up against. Try not to let it stop you from doing your best, all right?”

He rubbed both of our heads and got up to leave.

I haven’t been able to stop thinking about it, Martin. Frankly, it’s pretty discouraging. To think Mr. Julian has all that authority and still gets disrespected? Hearing it made me realize I still had hope that once I really achieve some things, I won’t have to deal with racist BS anymore.

That’s obviously not the case, though, is it?

SJ: Sorry. It’s just—you’re completely oblivious to the struggles of anyone outside your little social group.

Jared: Whatever, SJ.

SJ: I’m serious. What about the economic disparities? What about the fact that proportionally speaking, there are more people of color living in poverty than white people? Have you even thought about that?

Jared: Dude, Manny drives a Range Rover.

Manny: What does that have to do with anything?

Jared: No beef, dude. I’m just saying your folks make way more money than mine.

Manny: Okay. They worked really hard to get to where they are, so—

Jared: I’m not saying they didn’t, dude. You just proved my point. Black people have the same opportunities as white people in this country if they’re willing to work hard enough. Manny’s parents are a perfect example.

SJ: My point is I’ve seen you commit the same crime Shemar Carson had on the “criminal record’’ you mentioned.

Jared: Whatever, SJ.

SJ: I know you’d prefer to ignore this stuff because you benefit from it, but walking around pretending inequality doesn’t exist won’t make it disappear, Jared. You and Manny, who are equal in pretty much every way apart from race, could commit the same crime, but it’s almost guaranteed that he would receive a harsher punishment than you.

Jared: Can you believe that asshole? What kind of teacher has the nerve to suggest there’s racial inequality to a classroom full of millennials?

Kyle: Seriously, bro? He said that shit?

Jared: I kid you not, bro. The dean should fire his ass. I seriously might have my dad give the school a call.

“[…] We had this discussion in class today, and…I don’t know, Ma. Everything I’m doing right now feels like a losing battle.”

She nodded. “Hard being a black man, ain’t it?”

I shrugged. “Guess that’s one way to put it. All I know is I can’t seem to find where I fit. Especially at that school.”

“Hmm.”

[…]

She crossed her arms and lifted her chin, and that’s when I knew there’d be no sympathy. “So watchu gon’ do? Run away?”

I sighed. “I don’t know, Mama.”

“You think coming back here will solve your problem?”

“At least I’d be around people who know the struggle.”

She snorted. “Boy, you betta get your behind on up that school.”

Let’s observe, shall we? I’m ranked number two in our class, I’m captain of the baseball team, I do community service on weekends, and I got higher test scores than Justyce . . . yet he got into Yale early action, and I didn’t. I know for a fact it’s because I’m white and he’s black.

Now say you have a black guy—not Justyce, but someone else—whose single parent’s income falls beneath the poverty line. He lives in a really crummy area and goes to a public school that has fifteen-year-old textbooks and no computers. Most of the teachers are fresh out of college and leave after a year. Some psychological testing has been done at this school, and the majority of students there, this guy included, are found to suffer from low self-esteem and struggle with standardized testing because of stereotype threat—basically, the guy knows people expect him to underperform, which triggers severe test anxiety that causes him to underperform.

[…]

Now erase the two backgrounds. We’ll keep it simple and say GPA-wise, you have a four-point-oh and he has a three-point-six. Test scores, you got a fifteen-eighty, right? Well, this guy got an eleven-twenty. Based on GPA and scores only, which one of you is more likely to get into a good college?

It’s like I’m trying to climb a mountain, but I’ve got one fool trying to shove me down so I won’t be on his level, and another fool tugging at my leg, trying to pull me to the ground he refuses to leave. Jared and Trey are only two people, but after today, I know that when I head to Yale next fall (because I AM going there), I’m gonna be paranoid about people looking at me and wondering if I’m qualified to be there.

“You coming over here asking us to help you use a black girl IS a big deal, Blake. That’s not to mention you tossin’ the n-word around like you own it.”

Blake: You don’t own it any more than I do, bro. Nobody owns words. I’d think you’d know that as someone “smart enough” to get into Yale.

Manny: All right, y’all, let’s calm down before this gets outta hand.

Justyce: It’s already outta hand, Manny. Your boy Blake is a racist.

Blake: What is it with you people and the goddamn race card, huh?

Justyce: We people. You realize Manny is one of us peo­ple too, right?

Blake: Except Manny’s got some sense and doesn’t make everything about race. Why don’t you loosen the hell up?

“That’s what it was like for me at the new school. Every­body saw me as black, even with the light skin and green eyes. The black kids expected me to know all the cultural references and slang, and the white kids expected me to ‘act’ black. It was a rude awakening for me. When you spend your whole life being ‘accepted’ by white people, it’s easy to ignore history and hard to face stuff that’s still problematic, you feel me?”

“I guess.”

“And as for you, the only way you’re gonna thrive is if you’re okay with yourself, man. People are gonna disrespect you, but so what? Guys like Jared don’t have any bearing on how far you get in life. If you know the stuff they’re say­ing isn’t true, why let it bother you?”

“[…] My point is the world is full of guys like Jared and that employee, and most of them will never change. So it’s up to you fellas to push through it. Probably best not to talk with your fists in the future…” He nudged Manny. “But at least you have an idea of what you’re up against. Try not to let it stop you from doing your best, all right?”

He rubbed both of our heads and got up to leave.

I haven’t been able to stop thinking about it, Martin. Frankly, it’s pretty discouraging. To think Mr. Julian has all that authority and still gets disrespected? Hearing it made me realize I still had hope that once I really achieve some things, I won’t have to deal with racist BS anymore.

That’s obviously not the case, though, is it?