I first came face to face with racism when I crossed the country by Greyhound bus. When I got on in Fresno I went right to the back of the bus so that I could stretch out. The driver came back and told me I couldn't sit there because I was white. I then noticed that black people were sitting all around me. I said it doesn't bother me as to who sits next to me. I was told move or be arrested for breaking the law. I moved but I felt like a coward. I knew I should have allowed myself to be arrested, but the idea scared the hell out of me. When we got to a restaurant to eat, the place was really crowded, but we spied an empty table and sat there. No one came to take our order. We sat for at least 10 or 12 minutes. Finally, a waitress came over and started yelling at us, saying that the black folks standing to the side wanted to eat. I waved them over and said that there was enough room for everybody. No one ventured forth. The waitress said they won't sit with us because they could get a beating and be thrown off the bus. She yelled at us and wanted to know if we were Northern trouble makers. We asked. how were we supposed to know that these tables were only for colored people. At that time this was the politically correct appellation. We were told that it was perfectly noticeable.The tables for whites were egg shell in color, and the black peoples' tables were light beige. I was flabbergasted. I never would have made the connection, but she was right; the people of color knew right away as did the white southerners and the folk from Southern California, Arizona, New Mexico, Texas and Oklahoma. This part of the nation had segregated restrooms, water fountains, etc. At the rest stops that didn't have tables or lavatories for blacks, they were forced to go to the back door of the restaurant and were fed off of paper plates; at some stops they paid extra for the plates. They had to relieve themselves outside and just hope they weren't caught in the act.
It was easy to understand this type of prejudice and quite easy to make laws to do away with these inequities. The struggle to make this happen was not easy but correcting these problems was. Does that mean that prejudice ended with the desegregation acts? Not really. I was quite ignorant of black and white dynamics even though I had fallen victim to overt racism by being forced to be complicit in its perpetuation. Talking with friends helped to make me more aware as did writers like Baldwin and Douglas among others who explained our world from a black perspective. Now, I am more sensitive to the nuances and subtleties of prejudice. I am not an authority but I am willing to learn.
Have any of you ever thought what it is like for a black person in a white society? There are pressures that you never knew existed. For most of you taking a walk in the park is a pleasurable experience. For a black person or couple, it could be an act of courage. I don't know how the average black person can endure the daily hatred, or if not hatred, being the invisible or ignored person, suffering daily sleights and inequities. Hostility is a normal part of their lives. A white person doesn't have to say anything to register their disapproval of a black person in their prescience. They might not even be aware of the communication that takes place. There will be a tightening around the eyes as well as the mouth which gives it a set and severe appearance. Don't tell me I'm crazy, as I have noticed it myself when people of color come into a room or, let us say, a coffee shop. It doesn't happen all the time but it does happen. Inter-racial couples are conscious of these types of reactions.
I look at many black youths today and wonder why many of them always look so mad and walk with a rolling, aggressive hip hop strut. We all know, or should know, this outward attitude is probably a type of defense mechanism while in the "world" where he is out-numbered. You can almost hear him saying, "Don't mess with me, man. I bad, I bad." His strut is considered by his friends as "cool" and "in your face." On the one hand it could be considered akin to whistling in the dark. This is nice to believe by all those people who say,"Can't we all just get along?" We are not going to get along if we do not have an understanding of each other.
What is happening I believe, is that it is a stylized form of controlled aggression that expresses the young black peoples' frustration empowered by their pent-up anger. Fifty years ago the black man was retiring, adept at blending into the background. I don't mean this as a criticism because it was a necessary survival technique. Don't make the "man" aware of you if you wanted to stay healthy. It is good to stand up for yourself but to change attitudes calls for a great deal of patience. I know it's okay for me to call for patience. I am sure you heard this before. But what is the alternative? Do you think continuous confrontation will erase racism? I tend to think it will only acerbate racial tensions and isolate the various races. I am not saying that confrontation is not useful. You can't allow the racists to get away with anything. All I am saying is that you use overt confrontation selectively so as not to weaken its impact. Tolerance is in the heart and not in the laws. The government can't legislate brotherly love for all peoples as well as respect for every individual. We have to get to know each other. Guess who's coming to dinner. You are going to have a guest tonight who has never eaten greens or spoon bread. Do I hear someone say that he is not the only one? Stereotypes don't really work anymore but don't let these lapses keep you from breaking bread with "whitey." Before we condemn the aggressive black men and women, let's look at what they typically face everyday.
Jamal lives in an apartment with his parents and younger sister. He is a solid B student, goes to church and plays football for his high school. He hopes to go to college on an athletic scholarship. He is a very good athlete but not a great one. His football ability alone would not get him in to school. He has a decent chance of matriculating because of his grades. He may not be as good as some other players but he is not going to become ineligible or flunk out of school because of bad grades. He is a typical American teen with loving and supportive parents, a sister who idolizes him.
His life sounds like a "piece of cake" But, outside of his neighborhood, he is an alien life form. An older white lady is walking towards him on the sidewalk. He notices that she shifts her purse to the shoulder away from him even though the street is not deserted and there is a policeman at the corner. He feels like telling her that he is not going to steal her purse. But she would probably start screaming if he talked to her. She didn't call him a black bastard or a shiftless wino but her actions were just as insulting.
He stops to look at a department store window where a crowd has gathered. Jamal is in the middle of the crowd that is pressing forward to see the celebrity inside the store. It is almost like Moses parting the waters. He is in a sea of people yet he remains untouched. He starts to leave, says excuse me to a young girl as he tries to exit the crowd. Her father rushes to her side rudely shouldering Jamal as he put himself between Jamal and the girl. His protective arm around the young beauty proclaims that he has saved her purity and she remains untouched by the likes of him. Jamal thinks it's a day like any other day. The only difference is that you are there. And if you are black you might wish that you were not there. But where? Some people have returned to Africa and to their chagrin were not greeted with enthusiasm. Being from the United States they were treated exactly as if they were white. They have color in common but nothing else. They are referred to by the locals as black white men. They think there is something wrong with them for leaving the United States. Why these black-white men don't even know what tribe they belong to. I mean, how dumb is that?
Jamal is leaving the crowd behind him and enters the "pricey" department store. He wants to buy a complete outfit for an upcoming wedding of a friend. He has a budget of two thousand dollars. The clerk at the jewelry counter asks "Can I help you?" without any real interest or courtesy and with just a tinge of hostile superiority and snobbish aloofness. "I have some very nice pieces you might like over at the next counter." She brings out a tray of tasteless rings encrusted with huge fake diamonds. Jamal says,"I am looking for a tie tack not any rings". Not really listening for his need she puts out another tray of glitzy and gaudy finger ware, even more vulgar than the previous "jewels". "These are the latest in high fashion and so reasonably priced. They range from ten to thirty dollars." Her assumption was that because he was black, he must like cheap and flashy jewelry. Jamal said to her, "You didn't ask me what I wanted and ignored my wishes when I told you. You just thought a big black buck like me didn't know anything about gems. I don't want a ring. I would like to see tie tacks festooned with precious stones." The clerk said, "Really, you are a very insolent person. I should expect your kind to lack any common courtesy. I will get the manager for you as I must leave." She left in a decided huff.
The manager came quickly, slightly flustered, with a security guard strolling in the next aisle, apparently with all kinds of time to dawdle as he inspected the scents in the " par fum" department. The manager asked him what was the trouble. Jamal replied, “I didn't know that there was any trouble. Whatever gave you that idea?” The squirrelly manager suddenly seemed confused. "I want to buy a tie tack " Jamal countered "but I was only shown trays of worthless rings." Without a word the "Snively" of the sales world produced a trey of tie tacks. Jamal chose one with a star burst diamond cluster set off by shooting chips. The manager says with an insulting tone, "That is very expensive. Would you like it on layaway?" Jamal says, "My God you people are unreal. No, I don't want it on layaway. Here! I will put it on my platinum credit card." The mensch said, "Very well." and vanished from sight. He waited and waited while they checked his credit. Actually, it was his Dad's card but they had the same name. It was twenty five minutes before the manager appeared as magically as he had left. He said that the computers were down and that is why it took so long. A remarkable store. This was the only department where the computers weren't functioning. After receiving his purchase he wandered around the store, with the security guard following and desperately trying not to be seen.
A short digression. Did you notice that Jamal was never referred to as Mr. or sir. They didn't even call him young man. It is as if he was denied any real identity. Am I being too picky? A white person might say yes but a black person would say that the omission was obvious.
Getting back to Jamal, wandering the store on his mission of revenge. He could feel the eyes of a dozen clerks boring into his back. As he left each department he received surreptitious glances from a clerk reporting on the phone. It seemed the whole store was buzzing with urgent phone calls. Why, there must be some kind of crisis. At each department he placed his bag on top of the counter,covering the merchandise and destroying the counters neatness. Sweaters, pants, ties, and shirts were strewn all over the floor after Jamal tried them on. Clerks were scurrying to re-arrange the counters in the aftermath of Hurricane Jamal. He knew that when he left the white employees hadn't learned anything. They never detected his humanity only the fact that he was an arrogant "nigger" out to make trouble for decent white folks.
Being stressed out, Jamal decided to splurge and take a taxicab home. The first two empty cabs that he hailed sped right by him. The third cab stopped but the driver said," I am Vere, Vere sorry, effendi. I am not allowed to go there. May Allah bless you. "Jamal really felt "lousy" now. He expected discrimination from whites but not from a Pakistani who was darker than he was. "Oh, well" he thought, "I'll take the bus. At least I won't have to sit in the back.”
"Free, oh Lawdy, free at last"
The End- But I doubt it.
Mother and Child
Eyes soft with
love. Fingertips gently,
languidly flutter
across eyelids,
cheeks and lips
while snugly encased.
He tickles.
She giggles.
He gazes lovingly
up at her
face, head resting
on her bosom.
She plants a kiss
on his upturned nose.
Serene and peaceful,
he falls asleep
in mother's arms.
The only mother
he's ever known.
There was another remembered
from a dim yesterday,
perhaps a dream.
A fitful memory
that fades as
time passes. But,
she is not reality.
Her fur was soft
he thought, but no
my real mother has
smooth, warm
skin,very
little hair.
He dreams
of trees and
swinging vines and
dappled sunlight and
safari grass and
trumpet blasts and
kingly roars and
flowing rivers and
cascading falls and
deathly screams and
of racing scared
and splat of lead on
flesh. A weight upon him
to save him from
the senseless slaughter. He
cries out in the night,
terrified as smooth skin
mother rushes to his side,
closing her arms around
him while she rocks
him back to sleep,
erasing half-seen images.
This is my mother.
His eyes tear in affirmation.
This is my child.
Her eyes tear in affirmation.
In a cage
in Sarasota
a widowed
mother grieves
for her slain
mate, her son
and for herself.
Day dawns on
a shrunken behemoth
lost in the ancient jungle.
Her lust for life extinguished.