As I set out my U. S. flag this morning, I realized that the several flags flapping up and down my street potentially represent very different sets of meanings for those displaying the flags. The last time I realized this was on the Martin Luther King holiday (a.k.a. Civil Rights Day) in January, which is one of the official flag days in the U.S. when I noticed that flags were not flying at the houses of two neighbors. I noticed because those neighbors fly the flag every other day of the year.

Why, I recall wondering, would these neighbors fly the flag every day except on Martin Luther King, Jr.’s birthday? If you are African American, or a member of another historically dispossessed minority, your mind may grasp a likely explanation quickly. I am white, but grew up in the Southeast. I still have some relatives who are racists. Sadly, I have to admit that there are still many white people who — knowingly or not — harbor deep animosity against non-whites. Is it possible that my neighbors’ mutual single day (per year) of flag-flying abstinence was a coincidence? Possible? Sure. Likely? I doubt so. Is this a part of the non-verbal language of racism?

When first pondering the apparent MLK birthday flag display boycott, I realized that I could not recall seeing any African American neighbors. I know that I did not select the neighborhood based on whether there were African Americans present, but neither did it occur to me to investigate whether the neighborhood was diversity oriented. When I retired from active duty in the Air Force, I had a short-notice opportunity to work in the area. Knowing we would be retiring from that role, we had been renting a house. We had expected to relocate when my active duty career would end. We decided to look for a house to purchase. We were determined to act quickly, because house prices were still rising. We bought our house after a short search, having researched a short list of factors relevant to our notions of an acceptable neighborhood — low crime, good schools (though our only child is a married, independent adult), and short commute to work. Satisfying those criteria led us to the northeast heights area of Albuquerque and, it appears now, to a street devoid of African Americans.

What does this mean? Demographic research indicates that Albuquerque’s population is 2.5% black, which is significantly lower than the 12.1% national representation of African Americans. Perhaps the lack of black neighbors is merely representative?

I also recognize that diversity exists in my neighborhood in the form of Latino, Asian, and possibly other races. Whatever the explanation for the scarcity of African Americans here, it does not explain my two street-mates’ flag-flying behavior.

Why don’t I just ask them? In truth, it’s because I don’t want to establish a relationship with persons I suspect of rank bigotry. Why provide a platform for them to further express their venom? On the other hand, (a) I could be entirely wrong about them or (b) I may be able to have a positive impact on them by asking the question.

Though we have lived here for 20 months, I have met neither neighbor directly. We have waved at each other or exchanged respectful nods when driving or walking past each other’s homes, but none of us has felt moved to make a deliberate visit to make formal introductions.