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.
I wish more people had come forward to show your family their support in that situation, to demonstrate especially to your young daughter that this careless idiot was an exception and not the rule. I hope you are feeling that now with some of these replies. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve had insults shouted at me from cars. While I’ve not directly experienced racism, I certainly know how it feels for someone to disregard your entire being and reduce you to a harshly judged physical attribute. I’d like to believe that if they thought about that and about how hurtful they are, that they’d choose otherwise, but I’m not that naive. The simple truth is, those of us who are better than that are better than that. That it bothers you is to your credit that you’ve not cut off the world, but the best victory is learning to let it go, to not give them that power in your life. I’m betting you’ve felt relief in the past after a similar even… After the shock wears off, remembering who you are, feeling the pulse of your pride, letting it go because it’s that idiot who with no understanding of kindness or humanity that should be pitied. The rest of us live in a much better world than he does. Don’t let him pull you into his world! That completes my pep talk. 🙂 Miss you and hope you are well!
I am so very sorry that your family had this happen and that your daughter and family was subjected to such vile behavior. My husband and I are white and have adopted 2 black children. We live on the outskirts of Washington D.C. I am dreading the day when my children have to deal with this. I hope and pray everyday that it never happens, but sadly I know it will. My husband and I see the looks and stares. It makes me sad….I hope you and your family never experience it again.
This is terrible. I couldn’t read this and not comment. What happened is not okay, and I’m so sorry that it did.
I wish the world could get to a place where the only effect of someone using the word nigger would be to make the user look like the white trash scum they are acting like. It shouldn’t cause a moment of shame of fear to anyone but them. I wish the power of it was gone.
I live in Ireland where the word doesn’t have the same cultural significance, but there are those idiots who throw it around like it makes them bigger, still. Even though they really have no idea what it means.
It’s hard for me to believe it’s still out there. But so clear that it is. This story is just heartbreaking.
I’m so sorry this happened to such a loving and amazing family. It’s not okay, will never be okay. I find it hard to believe that a person in the media didn’t stop to think about, at the very least, “getting the story.” In that moment, whiteness ruled out: turning a family’s public pain and humiliation into an self-congratulatory anecdote without asking if the family it happened to was okay with it being shared at-large. With public platforms comes a responsibility to not speak for people about their experiences. On a human level instead of a media one and it affected this reporter deeply, why not approach? White “politeness” like someone said is violence. To the man who did cross the street and speak to your family, I am grateful to him for being a helper and a footnote. You can’t make an impact looking for a swell of applause.
Thank you for sharing and writing. I am always humbled by your strength. Your family shouldn’t have to be this brave. All my love, thoughts, and light.
I am so very sorry that you and your family had to experience this! Being assaulted in a public space, especially when you are with your children, is so incredibly hurtful. I cannot begin to imagine the mix of pain, sadness, and anger that you must be feeling. My heart goes out to you! Sending prayers for your family, and especially for your young daughter on this Easter Sunday. May you have a day filled with blessings!
I am so sorry this happened to your family. My heart is filled with sadness for what you endured and anger that there is so much hate and ignorance in this world. I do hope that your son and daughter read all the comments on here and will realize that there are many good people in this world (of all colors) who care about what happened to you. Thank you for telling your story.
I’m so sorry that you and your family have to experience this at all, let alone in my home state. It is Infuriating and heartbreaking.
Let me say that I’m very sorry for what happened to your family on what should have been a nice spring day. I am particularly saddened by your daughters exposure to that kind of senseless hate, and how she now must to come to terms with it as such a young and impressionable mind. I wish we lived in a world where bastards like that man didn’t exist.
Still, I must say I think you are being unnecessarily hard on Jackie Ward. I agree silence can harmful, but I wouldn’t call her silent. I think she spoke up about her concerns and feelings using the tools she has and, from her background, what was respectful and allowed you to handle your own family. That may not be the social convention that you want, but it is what she knows/grew up knowing. It is one thing to defend a stranger, it is another to insert yourself in to an emotional reaction between a child and her mother. What would you have had her do? Come ask you if you were OK? Then what? What could she possibly offer your family after such an inflammatory and hurtful verbal and emotional attack? If you wanted to say your were saddened or discouraged by a lack of action during an obvious, extended and tangible confrontation I would understand, but the aftermath of such a rapid and unclear situation is not the same.
Jackie used the voice she had to make a point about the all-too-real racial divide still in the country, and that was her way of defending your family, expressing the emotion that she had about your plight. There was not a blind eye turned, in fact, just the opposite. I could also understand a concern about the “public” sharing of the assault on your family, but since you yourself tweeted about it, and your family’s identity wasn’t exposed by the journalist, I don’t see how you can take issue with the article, especially since your next sentence denounces a do-nothing culture. I understand your concern with “white culture” being “all-too-polite” – its real, and sometimes its not the solution to the problems we encounter. But If you can’t see that this reporter was using her apparatus to address a problem that bothered her, rather than turning a blind eye, then I’m afraid you too need to rethink some of your positions.
I’m sorry that happened.