Please share your "you don't think we're like that" story
Last edited Tue Sep 30, 2014, 06:32 PM - Edit history (5)
I'll share my most egregious one. I was in an online Creativity class and each student had her/his own virtual room to post art, poetry, music, etc. I posted a poem titled "Never Trust the White Man." It was a poem about my maternal great grandmother's oft-repeated admonishment, as related to me by my older cousins. My great grandmother, for all intents and purposes, WAS a white woman, but she held onto that drop of African blood that coursed through her veins with her all. She married a very dark-skinned man, and they had eight children.
My great grandmother was a seamstress, and my great grandfather was a farmer. They were very prosperous for the time, and some of the white townsfolk didn't much care for that. Mama made all her children's clothes, and they were always dressed well. One day, one of my great uncles took the car into town to buy some supplies, and the local yokels accused him of stealing. Of course he had no need to steal because his parents made more money than most of the yokels. Anyway, he managed to get away from them and get home...but trouble was still on the horizon. Later that night a mob was assembled and headed towards the farm. My great grandparents were warned, and they managed to escape to safety with all their children. That mob would have probably lynched the entire family if they had not fled, and they had to flee the land THEY owned. Another parcel of land lost to a white lynch mob. I still wonder who owns that ill-gotten land to this day.
Anyway, my poem was about ALL OF THAT, and then some. It was a story about my life, my mother's life, my grandmother's life and my great grandmother's life...and it was ALL true! I wrote about my cousins running into their house and telling their mother that the neighborhood kids were teasing them about "white people" being in their house. I wrote about how TERRIFIED they were, and how they looked in the closets and under the beds trying to make sure there were no white people in their house. Because...in Texas in the 1950's and 60's, white people were TERRIFYING to little black children. They were the ones who lynched and bombed and intimidated and killed...they were the people you should stay away from and be afraid of. That was THEIR reality.
In Ft. Worth, TX, the black people lived on one side of the lake, and the white people lived on the other side. My uncle was married to a white woman, so she had to lay down in the car to travel to the black side of town, to visit his relatives. And, my great grandparents' children were fair-skinned, so they too had to be careful not to offend the sensibilities of the Jim Crow south. They were the "white people" the neighborhood children were alarmed about...they were just family.
So, my story was brimming with complexities and uncomfortable realities, all of which I poured into that poem. As my friend said later: White people do not understand the complexities of our lives or our realities. And boy, was she ever correct.
I posted the poem, and almost immediately, all hell broke loose. I was accused of racism and told my poem...the poem about the TRUTH of many generations of my family...was "offensive." I had only one ally, of the 20 or so students in the class: the other black person, a man. And thank goodness for him, because I got attacked like you would not believe: I couldn't believe it. I was in the supposed liberal bastion of San Francisco, and frankly, I was completely stunned by their reactions. To a one, they accused me of being racist, and offensive, and so on, simply for writing about what actually happened. I will never forget it.
The reactions were not about I wrote; they reacted to how what I wrote made them feel, and apparently it did not make them feel good. And too often in the american racial narrative, our job is to make white people feel good about themselves. Our job is to congratulate and to feel grateful, and to never, ever make anyone feel uncomfortable.
So, if I am thanked in an email for "fetching" reports, I am not supposed to challenge the word or the sentiment or the motive...no. I was supposed to feel grateful that I was even mentioned, no matter how offensively. And when I challenged the woman who wrote that bs? She bent over backwards trying to prove to me that she was "not like them." She was a Harvard grad, something she loved to mention often, so I asked her: 
were you thinking?! How could you possibly think equating my contribution to the team with the act of a dog was perfectly fine? Yeah...you ARE like THAT, so learn from this experience and stop being like THAT. And stop being a passive-aggressive asshole to boot.
I think I am done now. Please share. I think it is important to continue the dialogue about race that the teabaggers have awakened.
= new reply since forum marked as read
thank goodness because I needed my job.
I lived in the Bay area at the time "Roots" was first aired. After a couple of shows, my boss called me in his office. He asked if I'd been following the saga and what was my views. (I was the only black in the office and I suppose he figured I could answer for all Blacks 
)
I replied that I was pleasantly surprised and pleased by the accurate description of families living under slavery.
He bowed his head and told me that his ancestors owned "slaves", but they were good people and good to their slaves. He asked if I believed that ALL slaveowners were bad.
I replied (sigh!) that anyone who believed it was OK to enslave a fellow human was Bad.
He hung his head and I walked out of the office.
i will not tolerate any denial in this thread. this is a STFU and LISTEN thread 
I had just closed a deal for a Platinum Dealer - totally pumped. It was the day that the ABC show "Lost" Premiered. I'll always remember that because I was excited to see the show. I planned on doing a little tax free clothe shopping, take a shower and order room service and watch the show.
So I'm at the counter and had just paid for my clothing - again - excited. This was a Pre IPO Tech company and I'd been there a few months. Long sales cycle - and our FIRST Platinum deal. That's why they hired me - they knew I could close.
And as I'm putting my wallet away one of the little girls at the counter comments on how I look like a Christie doll - you know - the black Barbie. I remember this - she said I had a cute Cookie cutter nose (I remember that) and perfect body. I thanked her - thought it was odd but eh? Thank her and start to leave and one of the idiots says - Yeah! Like ghetto Barbie.
And I stood there stunned. I'm not sure if I was totally stunned - or if my arrogance kicked in. And I think it was the manager who said, "Oh! She didn't mean it like that."
I didn't do the return thing - those were cheap tax free jeans in that bag.
But I did state - you never know who someone is and what their background is. And regardless - it was demeaning.
Now the next day I ran a few calls and drove down to Aliquippa to have dinner at my Aunt Clara and Uncle Frank's house. My Aunt Lela came over. I would do this is I was in a city where I had family. And I related this to those two birds - and let me tell you - they were piiiissssssed. And they hurt for me. Because they GOT it.
They shouldn't have said it to anyone - but that's the type of shit they put up with as young WELL educated women in Jim Crow. Aunt Clara today is 88 - so that gives a frame of reference of her life experience. All of those years - and still a stereotype over rules accomplishments.
Now I ask - what does a lower financial class black woman do in that situation? How does it FEEL?
I did write HQ - because I was connected a VP of marketing at Limited Brands. But I've never stepped foot in any of their stores since then. Ten years now?
That one comment - to me - that's WHAT they are. And another dose of arrogance - I can afford Brooks Brothers and BCBG and WHBM and J Jill so there's no reason for me to shop there. No loss.
And I never watched Lost. I've always associated it with that incident because it kept playing over and over while I was trying to watch it.
truth of living in this country. Just as bad today. Ferguson Mo. comes to mind. Sanford......oh you know what I'm getting at. Thank You for your contribution. I had or my family had a similar experience in the early 1900's in Georgia. Anywhere to read your poetry? If there is a link, book or whatever source, when you have time pass along please