Black in America
I have spent my life trying to live a life definitively as a biracial woman in a society so determined to force people into categories and boxes. If I choose to live as one race, am I not, in fact, denying the existence of the other? It is a conundrum I have never fully been able to resolve. That being said, there is one place where my race has never been an issue, and that is interacting with covert racists.
Overt racism is easy to know. It's in blatant symbols of oppression and derogatory language. I learned early on to avoid these kind of situations and people. However, covert racism is harder to avoid. It is not obvious and sometimes people don't seem to realize their subtle prejudices and racist beliefs.
When I was 15 I worked at a mall food stand. One of my white co-workers asked me to go with her to the CD store. We walked in together and immediately she headed off in the opposite direction from me. I started walking through aisles and browsing different genres of music. After a minute I noticed the store clerk was following me around the store. At first I ignored her as I continued perusing the CDs and playing different songs at the listening station. But as time went on it was obvious she was watching me closely and no matter which aisle I went down she would always be on my heels. Finally after five minutes my co-worker tells me to come on so we can get back to work. As we get out the store and around the corner she dumps a pile of CDs out of her jacket. She admitted she only took me with her because she knew the clerk would follow me around the store instead of her. I was pissed off, not just because she had used me for her own gain, but for the clerk falling for the obvious racial bate.
A few years later I was going to cash a check at a liquor store not far from my home. As I was crossing the parking lot, I noticed a white woman sitting in the passenger's seat of a a top down convertible. As I stepped closer the woman noticed me and locked her car door. I burst into a fit of laughter and when she looked up at me I just shook my head and kept walking. The fact that the top was down and I could just reach over the door never seemed to dawn on her in her panic.
When I was 21 I moved to a basement apartment in a majority white neighborhood. This neighborhood was so homogeneous that I would tell anyone who wanted to visit me to call ahead to be sure I was home and never to show up unannounced or wander around the neighborhood or backyard. In six years I never had an incident until one day I had decided to wait on the mailman so that I could re-address an envelope I had put in the mailbox. As I was sitting and waiting next to the mailbox, a white couple walked past me and then proceeded back the other direction. After five minutes they returned and asked me what I was doing there. I informed them that I was just waiting for the mail delivery. They asked me if I was ok and I said yes and then they asked where I lived and I pointed across the street to my house. They then proceeded to tell me that they had called the police on me because they didn't know if something was wrong with me and why I was sitting near the mailbox. I was curious as to why they had called the police first instead of asking me what was wrong. They asked me how long had I lived in the neighborhood and I told them six years and I'd never had any issues. They told me they had just moved to the neighborhood and weren't familiar with me. This again didn't explain why they called the police. The woman advised me I needed to call the police and inform them that it was a false alarm and they didn't need to come. Why did I need to make the call when I wasn't the one who had called in the first place? I had simply been waiting on the mail in the middle of a bright and sunny Saturday afternoon. Instead I went into my apartment and didn't come back out the rest of the weekend.
Once while I was visiting my then boyfriend asked me to come to town and console him as he attended a funeral of a friend that weekend. I flew in and while he was at the funeral I decided to go to a movie and lunch. The movie theater was about a mile from my hotel so I decided to walk. It was a warm day so I wore jeans and a tshirt with sneakers. On my hip I wore a money clip, a cellphone and an ipod. In my hands I carried a book. I left the hotel and crossed the parkway. There were no sidewalks, so I stayed far into the grass so I was far from the street. As I reached a traffic light and the final yards to the theater a police car approached behind me. At first I wasn't sure it was me they were stopping since I was walking, but the officer told me to stop. I turned around keeping my hands at my sides and stood perfectly still. I had worked for the police when I was 18 so I knew what to do and not to do when it came to the police. The female officer asked me for my ID. I raised my shirt slowly to expose the money clip and slid out my ID and handed it to her. As she ran my ID she began to question me. Who was I? Where was I going? Where was I staying? Why was I in town? Who was I visiting? Where were they? The questions seemed intrusive but as I saw another police car roll up and stop behind hers, I figured now was not the time to try to exert my rights and not answer questions. I answered each question in full and kept my hands at my sides so they were visible. I hadn't informed anyone of my intention to visit my boyfriend so no one knew I was there and if something happened to me who knows how long it would take before anyone would find out. I was scared and anxious. Dispatch finally came back that I was clean and the officer handed me back my ID she advised me sthe stopped me because they received a call of a woman walking in the middle of the street (I was not). Before letting me go she gave me a final warning to be careful while I was in town. Somehow I knew it was more a threat then a warning. I nodded my head and proceeded to the theater. I sat in the dark of the movie crying my eyes out in fear, frustration and anger. On my way back to my hotel I noticed several white people walking the exact same route I had taken to the theater and none were being stopped by the police. I kept my mouth shut but I made a point to never stay in that part of town again when I visited. To this day I am sure that things would've turned much darker had I said or done anything the officers had perceived as threatening.
Some people believe my fair skin gives me an advantage over many other black people, but at the end of the day even my fair skin doesn't save me from people's inherent racial prejudices and beliefs. No matter what I will always be black in America.
Overt racism is easy to know. It's in blatant symbols of oppression and derogatory language. I learned early on to avoid these kind of situations and people. However, covert racism is harder to avoid. It is not obvious and sometimes people don't seem to realize their subtle prejudices and racist beliefs.
When I was 15 I worked at a mall food stand. One of my white co-workers asked me to go with her to the CD store. We walked in together and immediately she headed off in the opposite direction from me. I started walking through aisles and browsing different genres of music. After a minute I noticed the store clerk was following me around the store. At first I ignored her as I continued perusing the CDs and playing different songs at the listening station. But as time went on it was obvious she was watching me closely and no matter which aisle I went down she would always be on my heels. Finally after five minutes my co-worker tells me to come on so we can get back to work. As we get out the store and around the corner she dumps a pile of CDs out of her jacket. She admitted she only took me with her because she knew the clerk would follow me around the store instead of her. I was pissed off, not just because she had used me for her own gain, but for the clerk falling for the obvious racial bate.
A few years later I was going to cash a check at a liquor store not far from my home. As I was crossing the parking lot, I noticed a white woman sitting in the passenger's seat of a a top down convertible. As I stepped closer the woman noticed me and locked her car door. I burst into a fit of laughter and when she looked up at me I just shook my head and kept walking. The fact that the top was down and I could just reach over the door never seemed to dawn on her in her panic.
When I was 21 I moved to a basement apartment in a majority white neighborhood. This neighborhood was so homogeneous that I would tell anyone who wanted to visit me to call ahead to be sure I was home and never to show up unannounced or wander around the neighborhood or backyard. In six years I never had an incident until one day I had decided to wait on the mailman so that I could re-address an envelope I had put in the mailbox. As I was sitting and waiting next to the mailbox, a white couple walked past me and then proceeded back the other direction. After five minutes they returned and asked me what I was doing there. I informed them that I was just waiting for the mail delivery. They asked me if I was ok and I said yes and then they asked where I lived and I pointed across the street to my house. They then proceeded to tell me that they had called the police on me because they didn't know if something was wrong with me and why I was sitting near the mailbox. I was curious as to why they had called the police first instead of asking me what was wrong. They asked me how long had I lived in the neighborhood and I told them six years and I'd never had any issues. They told me they had just moved to the neighborhood and weren't familiar with me. This again didn't explain why they called the police. The woman advised me I needed to call the police and inform them that it was a false alarm and they didn't need to come. Why did I need to make the call when I wasn't the one who had called in the first place? I had simply been waiting on the mail in the middle of a bright and sunny Saturday afternoon. Instead I went into my apartment and didn't come back out the rest of the weekend.
Once while I was visiting my then boyfriend asked me to come to town and console him as he attended a funeral of a friend that weekend. I flew in and while he was at the funeral I decided to go to a movie and lunch. The movie theater was about a mile from my hotel so I decided to walk. It was a warm day so I wore jeans and a tshirt with sneakers. On my hip I wore a money clip, a cellphone and an ipod. In my hands I carried a book. I left the hotel and crossed the parkway. There were no sidewalks, so I stayed far into the grass so I was far from the street. As I reached a traffic light and the final yards to the theater a police car approached behind me. At first I wasn't sure it was me they were stopping since I was walking, but the officer told me to stop. I turned around keeping my hands at my sides and stood perfectly still. I had worked for the police when I was 18 so I knew what to do and not to do when it came to the police. The female officer asked me for my ID. I raised my shirt slowly to expose the money clip and slid out my ID and handed it to her. As she ran my ID she began to question me. Who was I? Where was I going? Where was I staying? Why was I in town? Who was I visiting? Where were they? The questions seemed intrusive but as I saw another police car roll up and stop behind hers, I figured now was not the time to try to exert my rights and not answer questions. I answered each question in full and kept my hands at my sides so they were visible. I hadn't informed anyone of my intention to visit my boyfriend so no one knew I was there and if something happened to me who knows how long it would take before anyone would find out. I was scared and anxious. Dispatch finally came back that I was clean and the officer handed me back my ID she advised me sthe stopped me because they received a call of a woman walking in the middle of the street (I was not). Before letting me go she gave me a final warning to be careful while I was in town. Somehow I knew it was more a threat then a warning. I nodded my head and proceeded to the theater. I sat in the dark of the movie crying my eyes out in fear, frustration and anger. On my way back to my hotel I noticed several white people walking the exact same route I had taken to the theater and none were being stopped by the police. I kept my mouth shut but I made a point to never stay in that part of town again when I visited. To this day I am sure that things would've turned much darker had I said or done anything the officers had perceived as threatening.
Some people believe my fair skin gives me an advantage over many other black people, but at the end of the day even my fair skin doesn't save me from people's inherent racial prejudices and beliefs. No matter what I will always be black in America.
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