Racism is like a flame in a field of burning crops: easy to feel and smell if you’re up close, visible from the distant winding roads, and hard to contain no matter how much water you pour over it.

Although not everyone has confronted racism and few would openly admit they’re racist, racism still exists. As a minority growing up in a small town, racism existed in many forms for me: institutional racism, peer-to-peer racism, adult-to-child racism and teacher-to-student racism.

“You’re just smart in math because you’re Asian,” said my freshman classmate at the time. I didn’t know whether to be offended or to give thanks to my ethnicity. “I didn’t remember how I handled your case,” said my high school principal, referring to the school’s preferential treatment of white boys when my friend and I asked why we were given harsher punishment for the same offense.

I didn’t have the words to grapple with what was going on around me, nor the audacity to speak out, especially with subtle racism — the kind you cannot pinpoint but makes you feel uneasy. Over the years, I’ve reflected on the myriad of ways racism permeates the United States.

Some say electing Barack Obama proves we see beyond the color of people’s skin and that our past has now been healed. Obama “would salve, if not close, the ugly racial wound left by America’s history and lessen the tendency of American blacks to blame all their problems on racism,” according to The Economist just short of elections.

So hush, hush black America, because now that we have a black president, all of your problems are your own fault. You can no longer blame the governments that implement and enforce racist policies, the companies that hire white over black employees, or the liberal white activists who hesitate to call 9-1-1 when a person of color needs an ambulance, nor the centuries of slavery.

Forget that in a survey conducted in King County in 2001, nearly half reported having experienced discrimination in the past year compared to 25 percent of whites. Racism is not only a pain in the ass but also a huge headache, heartache, stomachache and brain ache, too.

Even when ethnic and racial minorities have the same level of education, status and insurance, in many cases, they are still more likely to die sooner, be denied basic social services or as children be harassed on their way to school because of their race or ethnicity. Minorities often cannot openly lead our own discussions on racism, either.

Any remote notion of president-elect Barack Obama speaking of racism in his campaign trail would’ve sparked the “race card” accusation, just as some women are accused of playing the “gender card” when speaking of gender discrimination. Some told Michelle to tame her strength. God forbid we have a strong woman who speaks her mind in the White House.

Discrimination is not playing a deck of cards and racism is no game. Just because Obama was elected doesn’t mean that the ugly past of slavery in the U.S. and thus institutional racism have dissipated. Yes, it is a historical election, one that I personally will always truly cherish as a person of color. But it doesn’t mean that our work is done, or that racism and discrimination have disappeared.

Racial equality means being judged and valued by the content of your character, not by the color of your skin. It means holding the same expectations for all students, regardless of race or ethnicity. It means hosting public forums and classroom discussions about civil rights movements and being unafraid to tell white friends that you prefer to be called Chicano over Latino, Filipino over Asian, or black over African-American — or vice versa.

Racial equality means recognizing that the immigrants that cross our border in 2008 aren’t different from the immigrants who crossed our shores in 1492. It means acknowledging racial inequalities and confronting them, not just standing by and taking pictures of the scorching crops — especially if you or your ancestors lit the match that caused the flame.

Reach columnist Marissa Beach at opinion@dailyuw.com.