Racism seems to be a trending topic among some of my newly
found friends. One of these new friends is a black author
from Brooklyn. Her writing is very compelling and thought
provoking for me. I spent the first half of my life as a
Military brat travelling the globe, living in other countries,
learning new cultures. This is something I crave. Growing
up, race was never an issue. No one ever said to me “Hey,
that’s a black girl you’re playing with”. It never would have
phased me either.. my friends and I found common ground
among our likes and dislikes, not of color, but of interests.
When I was eight or nine I wanted a black barbie so my
friend and I could play and she could have a chance to be the
princess. I think this was my first encounter with racism. I
recall, at a party my parents were hosting, playing with my
friend and over hearing one grown up tell my mother ” You
let her have a black barbie??” with such disgust in her voice.
My Mother, being the lady she is smiled gently and
responded ” As soon as they hit the shelves.” This left the
other woman with a wide-eyed, shocked expression. I didn’t
understand at the time, and was confused as to why this
woman was so aghast at my beloved doll, my princess
Kenyata.
Moving forward in my life to my stay in New Orleans,
Louisiana. You see since I was 12 I’ve lived in the Southern
United States. At 18 I took a job waiting tables at a hotel
downtown and met a great group of people who worked
along side me. During one of the many rainy seasons down
here, I got off work and walked out the front door to head to
my car and ran into Mikey. Mikey is black and washed
dishes at the time. He had gotten off shift about 2 hours
before I did and had been waiting for his ride that hadn’t
shown up. So I did what anyone would do and offered him a
way home. We trudged through the pouring rain to the
employee section of the parking lot and as I was unlocking
my doors, Mikey jumped into the back of the pick-up truck .
“What are you doing Mikey??” I asked… his reply shocked
me to my core when he answered ” My Daddy always told me
never to get into a car with a white woman because they will
kill you for that.” “That’s absurb Mikey, it’s pouring rain, get
in the truck” … ” Oh, no maam. I appreciate the offer for a
ride home, but if I can’t ride here then I’ll just have to walk”
So I drove Mikey home that day, in the back of my pick-up
truck and cried. That night i could not sleep, who could?? I
kept asking myself how could racism be this prevelant in this
day and age in this huge city??? How could, in today’s world,
a man be mortally afraid to get a ride home?? My ten years
in New Orleans was a wake up call for me. I did have other
experiences where racism demonstrated how alive and well
it is indeed, but none shook me up as much as my ride home
with Mikey.
I think for me, I just don’t get it?? My mind cannot grasp the
hatred others feel towards people because of color or
religion. What makes us all so different??? I think what
bothers me most is seeing the hurt and embarassment that is
caused by someones racial slurs. My heart breaks when my
new friend writes out of anger because public racial slurs are
being softened and new “racial phrases” are being created to
hide the “dirty truth”. I too am angry that the line between
color cannot be crossed and overcome, that it is an invading
part of our lives that continues to separate and keep apart
relationships, personal or political.
I too am angry that this dirty secret has been kept under hats
for far too long. I’ve never been quiet when I hear an
injustice being served and it is being spooned out by the ton
right now and I will not sit back quietly and eat it.
