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Imagine a place
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where your neighbors
greet your children by name,
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a place with splendid vistas,
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a place where you
can drive just 20 minutes
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and put your sailboat on the water.
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It's a seductive place, isn't it.
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I don't live there
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-- (Laughter) --
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but I did journey
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on a 27,000 mile trip for two years
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to the fastest-growing
and whitest counties in America.
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What is a Whitopia?
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I define Whitopia in three ways.
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First, a Whitopia has posted at least
six percent population growth since 2000.
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Secondly, the majority of that growth
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comes from white migrants,
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and third, the Whitopia has
an ineffable charm,
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a pleasant look and feel,
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a je ne sais quoi.
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(Laughter)
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To learn how and why
Whitopias are ticking,
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I immersed myself
for several months apiece
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in three of them:
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first, St. George, Utah;
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second, Coeur d'Alene, Idaho;
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and third, Forsyth County, Georgia.
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First stop, St. George,
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a beautiful town of red rock landscapes.
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In the 1850s, Brigham Young
dispatched families to St. George
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to grow cotton because
of the hot, arid climate,
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and so they called it Utah's Dixie,
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and the name sticks to this day.
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I approached my time in each Whitopia
like an anthropologist.
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I made detailed spreadsheets of all
the power brokers in the communities,
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who I needed to meet,
where I needed to be,
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and I threw myself with gusto
in these communities.
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I went to zoning board meetings,
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I went to Democratic clubs
and Republican clubs.
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I went to poker nights.
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In St. George, I rented
a home at the Entrada,
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one of the town's
premiere gated communities.
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There were no Motel 6's
or Howard Johnsons for me.
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I lived in Whitopia as a resident,
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and not like a visitor.
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I rented myself this home by phone.
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(Laughter) (Applause)
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Golf is the perfect seductive
symbol of Whitopia.
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When I went on my journey,
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I had barely ever held a golf club.
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By the time I left, I was golfing
at least three times a week.
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(Laughter)
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Golf helps people bond.
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Some of the best interviews I ever scored
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during my trip were on the golf courses.
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One venture capitalist, for example,
invited me to golf
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in his private club
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that had no minority members.
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I also went fishing.
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Because I had never fished,
this fellow had to teach me
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how to cast my line and what bait to use.
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I also played poker every weekend.
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It was Texas Hold 'Em with a $10 buy-in.
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My poker mates may have been bluffing
about the hands that they drew,
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but they weren't bluffing
about their social beliefs.
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Some of the most raw,
salty conversations I ever had
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during my journey were at the poker table.
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I'm a gung ho entertainer.
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I love to cook, I hosted
many dinner parties, and in return,
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people invited me to their dinner parties,
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and to their barbecues,
and to their pool parties,
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and to their birthday parties.
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But it wasn't all fun.
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Immigration turned out to be
a big issue in this Whitopia.
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The St. George's Citizens Council
on Illegal Immigration
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held regular and active protests
against immigration,
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and so what I gleaned from this Whitopia
is what a hot debate this would become.
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It was a real time preview,
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and so it has become.
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Next stop, Almost Heaven,
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a cabin I rented for myself
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in Coeur d'Alene, in the beautiful
north Idaho panhandle.
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I rented this place for myself
also by phone.
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The book "A Thousand Places
To See Before You Die"
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lists Coeur d'Alene.
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It's a gorgeous paradise
for huntsmen, boatsmen, and fishermen.
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My growing golf skills
came in handy in Coeur d'Alene.
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I golf with retired LAPD cops.
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In 1993, around 11,000 families
and cops fled Los Angeles
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after the L.A. racial unrest
for north Idaho,
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and they've built
an ex-patriated community.
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Given the conservatism of these cops,
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there's no surprise that north Idaho
has a strong gun culture.
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In fact, it is said, north Idaho
has more gun dealers than gas stations.
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So what's a resident to do to fit in?
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I hit the gun club.
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When I rented a gun,
the gentleman behind the counter
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was perfectly pleasant and kind,
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until I showed him
my New York City driver's license.
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That's when he got nervous.
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I'm not as bad a shot
as I thought I might have been.
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What I learned from north Idaho
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is the peculiar brand of paranoia
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that can permeate a community
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when so many cops and guns are around.
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In north Idaho, in my red pickup truck,
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I kept a notepad,
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and in that notepad I counted
more Confederate flags than black people.
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In north Idaho, I found Confederate flags
on keychains, on cellphone paraphernalia,
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and on cars.
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About a seven minute drive
from my hidden lake cabin
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was the compound of Aryan Nations,
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the white supremacist group.
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America's Promise ministry,
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the religious arm of Aryan Nations,
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happened to have a three day
retreat during my visit,
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so I decided to crash it.
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(Laughter)
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I'm the only non-Aryan journalist
I'm aware of ever to have done so.
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Among the many memorable
episodes of that retreat
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is when Abe, an Aryan,
sidled up next to me.
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He slapped my knee, and he said, "Hey Rich,
I just want you to know one thing.
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We are not white supremacists.
We are white separatists.
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We don't think we're better than you,
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we just want to be away from you."
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(Laughter)
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Indeed, most white people in Whitopia
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are neither white supremacists
or white separatists.
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In fact, they're not there
for explicitly racial reasons at all.
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Rather, they emigrate there
for friendliness, comfort,
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security, safety,
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reasons that they implicitly
associate to whiteness in itself.
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Next stop was Georgia.
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In Georgia, I stayed in an exurb
north of Atlanta.
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In Utah, I found poker.
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in Idaho, I found guns.
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In Georgia, I found God.
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The way that I immersed myself
in this Whitopia
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was to become active
at First Redeemer Church,
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a megachurch that's so huge
that it has golf carts
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to escort the congregants around
its many parking lots on campus.
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I was active in the youth ministry,
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and for me, personally,
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I was more comfortable in this Whitopia
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than say, in a Colorado, or an Idaho,
or even a suburban Boston.
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That is because here in Georgia,
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white people and black people are more
historically familiar to one another.
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I was less exotic in this Whitopia.
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But what does it all mean?
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Whitopian dreaming, Whitopia migration,
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is a push-pull phenomenon,
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full of alarming pushes
and alluring pulls,
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and Whitopia operates at the level
of conscious and unconscious bias.
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It's possible for people to be in Whitopia
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not for racist reasons,
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though it has racist outcomes.
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Many Whitopians feel pushed by illegals,
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social welfare abuse, minorities,
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density, crowded schools.
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Many Whitopians feel pulled by merit,
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freedom, the allure of privatism,
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privatized places, privatized people,
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privatized things.
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And I learned in Whitopia
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how a country can have racism
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without racists.
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Many of my smug urban liberal friends
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couldn't believe I would go
on such a venture.
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The reality is that many white Americans
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are affable and kind.
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Interpersonal race relations,
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how we treat each other as human beings,
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is vastly better than in
my parents' generation.
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Can you imagine me going
to Whitopia 40 years ago?
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What a journey that would have been.
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And yet some things haven't changed.
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America is as residentially
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and educationally segregated today
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as it was in 1970.
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As Americans, we often find ways
to cook for each other,
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to dance with each other,
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to host with each other,
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but why can't that translate
into how we treat each other
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as communities?
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It's a devastating irony,
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how we have gone forward as individuals
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and backward as communities.
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One of the Whitopian outlooks
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that really hit me
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was a proverbial saying:
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"One black man
is a delightful dinner guest,
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50 black men is a ghetto."
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One of the big contexts
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animating my Whitopian journey
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was the year 2042.
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By 2042, white people
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will no longer be the American majority.
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As such, will there be more Whitopias?
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In looking at this,
the danger of Whitopia is
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that the more segregation we have,
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the less we can look at and confront
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conscious and unconscious bias.
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I ventured on my two-year,
27,000 mile journey
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to learn where, why, and how
white people are fleeing,
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but I didn't expect to have
so much fun on my journey.
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I didn't expect to learn
so much about myself.
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I don't expect I'll be living
in a Whitopia
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or a Blacktopia, for that matter.
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I do plan to continue golfing
every chance I get.
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And I'll just have to leave the guns
and megachurches back in Whitopia.
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Thank you.
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(Applause)