For most of my life, my race has been questioned, too often even by complete strangers. From my mom's coworkers jokingly accusing her of having an affair with a black man, to stylists shrugging in confusion over my "negro textured hair" and sending me on my way without service. Hell, I've even had my (now-ex) fiance's grandparents so unsure what ethnicity I am, they offered me every racially-specific stereotype they had available - I'm talking Kool-Aid, fried chicken, and watermelon, okay?!
I am not black. I am a mixed person of color, I often refer to myself as "brown." My ancestors on one side came directly from a non-European country.
Now, let's move forward again to today.... both of these events took place in the same western suburb of Minneapolis.
While at a gas pump this afternoon, I noticed a tall 20-something black man fueling his car. As I walked over to throw away some trash, he noticed me and his reaction took the air from my lungs: he cautiously raised his hands, lowered his head and eyes, and said "Sorry, ma'am, I'm just filling up and then I'll be on my way."
DID YOU READ THAT? Read it again. This young man apologized for his presence in the same parking lot as myself. I saw immediately the sorrow on his face and I, too, raised my hands and lowered my head, and said "I'm sorry, too. But not for filling my car up with gas... We're good, man, take a deep breath." At this point, I was in tears and offered up a fist-bump (social distancing, you know) and had a brief conversation with this guy. As I left, he asked me to stay cautious "with all this going on" and thanked me for keeping him company. His parting comment was "You never know out here... could've been an uptight white woman with a problem... could be a chill light-skinned chick.... guess I was lucky today."
Later in the evening, as I entered a different store, I noticed a white police officer exiting through the same door. I stopped to allow enough space for him to pass through, let out my standard "Ope, pardon me." and it was then that he noticed I was there. He stopped where he was, looked up at my face, stood up a little straighter, and moved his hand to his hip, resting it atop his holstered weapon.
DID YOU READ THAT? Read it again. This uniformed police officer had a strong enough reaction after seeing my face that he passively prepared to draw his weapon. I did not offer an apology because I did absolutely nothing to evoke that kind of reaction. Instead, I found myself in the same fearful position of the young man from earlier: I raised my hands to show they were empty, I stepped further out of the way, and I lowered my head. Once he saw I was "giving him the right of way," he exited through the door and headed for his vehicle. I turned around, went back to my vehicle, and returned to the safety of the house.
This stuff is hard. It's hard to see, talk about, and see constantly on every news forum. But it's harder to experience. My encounters today are the smallest snowflake atop a mountainous iceberg. The experiences of others are heartbreaking, horrifying, and horrendous. As a light brown person, I benefit from some amount of white privilege. In the past, I have let this privilege blind me to the depth of these issues, and I have let racism and racial insensitivity slide. I refuse to sit quietly by while this continues. Our black brothers and sisters are losing their lives to encounters like these and it needs to end.
Do something, anything, please. Use your privilege to help those with muffled voices finally be heard. Stand up for racial injustices, no matter how great or small they might seem.
The heart never regrets speaking out for those who need help being heard.
More graffiti later.....
~A