As the wheels continue to fly off my personal life, moments of simple joy and normalcy are increasingly hard to come by. My son’s unexpected visit home this week promised to be an opportunity to simply be present with family and savor the simple joys of togetherness. To share in the love that makes us a family, without the heady labels that often weigh us down.
Yet, as a mixed-raced family in a white space, the reality is that anytime we leave our house as a family, we risk incurring the wrath of the ignorant and hateful. To partake in the joys of the first treats of spring can turn ugly without notice and, sadly, a visit to Maine’s most populous city yesterday was the day when the ugly became personal and my nine-year-old daughter learned that there are people who will never know her essence but instead will reduce her to nothing more than a nigger.
I had no intentions of blogging about what happened to my family yesterday in Portland, though in a fit of anger, I did tweet about it in vague terms. However our degradation was witnessed by many, including a local news anchor who shared what she witnessed on her Facebook page and when a news anchor shares such a tale in a state the size of Maine…well, it seems I should just write about it myself.
My husband, son, daughter and I were walking in downtown Portland in an area known as the Old Port. The Old Port is a cute little area with cobblestone streets and an assortment of boutiques and eateries that draw crowds. We had already shopped at several local shops and were off to grab gelato before heading back to our little hamlet when suddenly and without warning as we were waiting to cross the street, a carload of young white men approached and without warning, the young man in the passenger seat yelled out very clearly and very loudly “Hey, niggers!” In that moment, I was frozen, I was scared…I was hurt. Yet before I had time to process what I was feeling, my son dropped the bags he had been carrying and ran off after the car. As I snapped to and realized that my son might be doing something foolish, the sounds of my daughter wailing for her brother to not run pierced my soul. I called out to him, too, in the hopes he would stop but he said he had to run and never paused for a second.
We stood there unsure what to do next, a sense of shame seeping into our souls. To be othered so publicly in such a vile manner is not a comfortable feeling. In that moment, the three of us stood, not sure if we should run after my son. My husband walked across the street to see if he could see our boy, he couldn’t. My husband asked if I felt he should go after him, I said no. We needed to be here when he returned. In those excruciating moments, nothing was said to us, though what seemed like minutes later, a white man crossed the street and asked if we were okay. I explained what happened and he asked if I could recall what the car looked like and that he would go look for my son once his own ride arrived to pick him up.
Eventually, the standing became too much and the weight of worry caused me to start walking and look for my son, while I had my husband and daughter stay put. I walked a few blocks down the street and came upon my son who was walking back our way. He wasn’t harmed but his anger was apparent. As we walked, I held his arm just as I had done when he was a small boy which, considering he is now a full head-plus taller than me, is laughable. I asked him why he ran, he told me he ran for every time growing up in Maine that a grown man had called him a nigger and he was too little to do anything but hang his head. He ran because he is tired of hanging his head and feeling nothing but shame. He ran because having his baby sister hear those vile words was simply not acceptable to him. He ran because a pack of white men calling his mama a nigger was not okay. He knew the risk inherent in running but he also knew that at 23, he is tired of stuffing down the weight of racism and being asked to be the “better person” by silently taking the abuse and waiting for society to change when it clearly has little impetus to do so. He realized that sometimes, a man has to be willing to risk everything, including an ass kicking or a jail cell, to right some of the wrongs in this world. It may seem…or maybe even be…foolish, but there comes a time when one is simply tired of dealing with injustice.
I have spent the last 11 years writing about race and racism. I head one of the few organizations in the United States dedicated to anti-racism work. While I can go into an academic head space about racism, the fact is it is very different when it is your family and your children living with the reality and weight of being different and being seen as less than fully human. It hurts and if you think about it too much, it will crush your spirit. Yesterday’s events were a psychic gut punch in a week that had already doled out a more than a few psychic kicks.
When I tweeted about the exchange, I was literally blowing off steam on the ride back home and had no intention to really talk about it again. But waking up to numerous messages and to see my painful exchange shared publicly and in detail, well…I am grateful for the anchor’s observations but I am also saddened. Saddened that she was not comfortable enough after seeing the entire exchange to come over and ask “Are you okay?” In my professional work, I work with white people on race and the white American culture is a, all-too-polite space where too many times white people don’t speak up and unfortunately silence can be harmful. Racism is a system, and that silence upholds that system even when we don’t believe we are actively creating harm.
In having the story go public, it created many questions and one being: What happened afterwards? Well we had a sober ride home, the mood of the day being utterly destroyed on a day that we honestly needed to be good. We needed a perfect spring day to savor as we grapple with the uncertainty and fragility of life. Instead, we were reminded that the world can be an utterly ugly place, my daughter asking on the way home if we could move away from this place. I reminded her that ugly can live anywhere. If I felt there was a place that was safe and where we could be assured that we would never hear that word again, I would move heaven and earth to get us there. However, there is no such space in a world that is not comfortable with Black and Brown bodies, instead all I can do is prepare her for what she faces and pray that her gentle soul is not destroyed in the process. Prepare her to wear the mask and stuff down her self just enough to stay strong but not too much otherwise the weight of the mask that Black and Brown people wear in spaces becomes too much and will eat you alive.
So, that’s what happens when you go out on a gorgeous spring day and you’re Black. Your humanity, security and even dignity can get snatched away in a second. You feel the pain, you try not to let it utterly consume you, and then you take it and stick in the jar and keep it moving.
I will keep moving. As will my family. Sometimes, if you try to tear us down, we will run. Not away from you but after you, and you will see us in your rearview mirror or over your shoulder. Even if you outpace us, we will ensure you do not forget us or take us lightly ever again.
Pointing to Jackie about writing about a story she witnessed is just wrong, if she said nothing, the mother of the family already said that she wasn’t going to talk about it, then this conversation wouldn’t be on going. just look at all the dialog taking place now about that horrible confrontation. In the blog from the mother as well as Jackie’s enlightens to open positive and beneficial for ongoing talks about the feeling of hurtful words to anyone.
I’m beginning to think that if I ever witnessed something like what happened to this family; the best thing would be to walk away, pretend I never saw or heard anything, and to never speak about it again. It wouldn’t be worth the hassle.
But that is exactly what we all do every day in so damn many situations. We walk away from the pain of others and hope they’ll be okay. We have so much trouble being with the discomfort we leave our common humanity behind. We have a Yankee culture of not getting into someone else’s business that is deep and strong, but it is so isolating.
The guy who came over to them and made the connection did the right thing. It was appreciated, and received.
I am trying to flex that ability to be with someone in public pain. It’s wicked hard, and goes against all of my training as a guy, but i’m never disappointed when I do extend my hand in empathy and compassion.
I’m so sorry that this happened to your family. I pray for the day when people are just people, not colors or classes. I truly believe that you get what you give & I try to live every day that way. May peace be with you & your family.
I am so, deeply sorry you and your family had to experience such ignorance and hatred.
This account of something so despicable is dispiriting almost beyond words. I think every member of the racial majority should experience something like this themselves so that they might open themselves to understanding.
Once when travelling from Tokyo back to the US, I was stopped (presumably at random) in the jetway ramp by two uniformed Japanese officers who asked me to put my bag on a table. While they were carefully taking out each of my belongings and examining them I sat in a chair and watched my fellow passengers board the plane. A very well dressed Japanese couple in their 70s (I would guess) looked at me as they walked by. The woman turned to her husband and said the Japanese word for “foreigner” almost spitting out her disgust and condescension. He looked at me and nodded his agreement with equal displeasure. It seemed my very existence was an affront to them and I guessed they believed I was getting what I deserved. I was shocked to my very core and furious, for I understood her words and their attitude. I was judged to be inferior and worthy of disrespect because of what I looked like. Not recognized was my good nature, my intelligence, the good work I do in the world, the good husband I am to my wife, my character, nor my loving nature. Just that I was a non-Japanese, a despicable foreigner.
As a white male of European descent, this was my first (and so far only) taste of the bile that accompanies such interactions. And I believe that this tiniest of glimpses, this single moment of hurt among the millions of moments of my otherwise pleasant and uneventful life, was an extraordinary gift. From that point onward I felt that I was able to begin my lifelong lesson that so many of my fellow human beings were aching to teach me. While my own moment cannot compare by any stretch of an imagination, I felt that I could at last see and hear like never before.
I am sorry that this happened. I oppose it when I see it and hear it. I wish I had been there to help. Failing that, at least let me offer my understanding of the hurt that was unleashed and send my healing thoughts to your family.
So sorry to hear of your experience. Hopefully Jackie’s story and yours will wake some of us up to the idea that we can sometimes help by not being silent.
I am truly so sorry this happened!!!! I am a white woman and can’t even imagine the pain this caused you and your family. When I was a young girl in High School, Maine had a semi pro basketball team in Bangor Called the Maine Lumberjacks. They came to my school and did an exhibition. It was great and my Family and I went to every game. We got to be really good friends with the players who were mostly black. They were awesome men and we formed life long bonds. They would come down to our house for the weekend and holidays ect… One day after a particularly bad game for one of these guys, we were walking to the car (he was coming home with us) and a group of young men starting screaming the N word it him. I began crying terribly. Billy sat me down in the back seat of the car and said to me, ” Honey, there are Niggers in this world but they come in all colors!!” As I dried my eyes, I thought about what Billy said and the fact he grew up in Mississippi and had experienced this tragically, more than once in his short life of 23 years. I will never forget the lesson he passed on to me. Sending you hugs and prayers!!! P.S. I am a commercial Lobsterman (female) and would love to take you and your family out on the water this summer if you are interested?!?!?! 🙂 Capt. Julie Eaton
Don’t hate the world when a few ignorant punks spew hate. This world has evil beings in it. Those punks probably also beat women and kids, steal from the weak and kill animals. My world doesn’t see color it set evil. Pray for your enemies and cast your burdens on Jesus. God bless.
Mississippi like Maine … both rural, racist and with histories of white supremacy and KKK Cross burning. The difference is that while Mississippi has owned up and is working through her past, Maine has never even got to the first step. My Maine family migrating to Virginia, where I was born and raised, gave me a gift in that I had to confront the issues of black and white and injustice at a very young age. And coming back to Maine I have as a white woman surprisingly had to confront that racism here that has by and large has disappeared in southern Urban areas. A just community would have run along with your son…… need I say more ?
We all come from Africa. Race is really a social construct invented by a ruling class to segregate people in order to control them. Maine is not nearly as bad as other places, like another State where I grew up. I always thought I was white, but who knows? As a young boy I was really dark, so dark they would call my sister and I the N word, did not want me to swim in the same pool in our neighborhood. I did not even know what the N word meant? I can remember grandma telling me to stay out of the sun so I would not get so dark. Of course the other side of the family, the “evil white man” comments gets just as old. When I was about 12 or 13 I saw a cross burning on a black families front lawn. Looking into the eyes of a 4 year old girl , who did not understand why a cross was burning in front of her house, still remains fixed in my mind. I am getting little older now, and so tired of it all.
I am sorry this happened to you and your family. How horrid. I grew up in part in Orono and northern Japan, a tall blonde white girl in a sea of Asians. After being targeted there for being different, I returned to the US a painfully shy middle schooler. After softball practice one day my folks were late to pick me up and as I sat with my male coaches a boy was riding his bike around the bases. My coaches yelled at him to “get his n*** ass off the field”. The grossness and unfairness was shocking, but in that moment of fury even my shyness couldn’t stop me from telling them to NEVER say that word in front of me again. They were embarrassed and completely taken aback. A small voice and small semi-victory, but perhaps if we all did so it would it help stop such idiocy.
As a white southerner living in Maine, I am disheartened and disgusted by the hate and ignorance in this state. All the time I am told how the south is so racist and stupid, and in their next breath they complain and spew vile about that n****r in the white house. I cannot wait to leave.
Buh byyeee.
And as Maine is continuing on her course of backwardness and provincialism…. such new and badly needed voices as the “southerner” telling like it is — are pushed away. You are such a disgrace to the founders of Maine !
Thank you Viola.
I too am saddened by this story but grateful to you for sharing. Those of us who do not suffer from racial discrimination need to be reminded that it exists. It is too easy for us to get wrapped up in our own little world.
I feel great sadness that this kind of ignorance still abounds not only in Maine, but essentially everywhere in some aspect. You and your family have every right to enjoy every day wherever you wish without any form of harassment at all. We are all humans sharing this planet. The color of our skin varies, but the content of our hearts and souls, our hopes and dreams, our love of family and friends is potentially the same. Hatred emanates from the souls of fools. I wish your family healing from this incident and unending love and happiness.