PSA: We Can't Move How Our White Counterparts Move
If you’re Black (for sure) or Brown you may have heard some version of the following rules from your mother, grandmother, or auntie before you were allowed into someone else’s home:
“Listen, before you go into this house, don’t touch shit, don’t ask for nothing. You’re not hungry, and no, you cannot stay the night!” Those were some of the basic ground rules laid down by momma, grandma, or auntie nearly every time my sister and I visited outside our house. The eyes and the firm delivery were nothing to take lightly; after all, you had to get your ass back in their car to get home! If you broke any of those rules, so help you … that was a rough ride home!
I most definitely heard these warnings again and again as I was raised. Not Mrs. Eunice Peterson, Grandma Clara, nor any of my Aunts played around! If there was one thing I learned growing up, it was how to behave outside our home, always to be on my best behavior. This upbringing has molded, for better or worse, some of my approach to navigating society as a fully-grown man. Looking back on it now, I’m grateful for the guidance for sure; but saddened by the knowledge that those—and countless other—lessons were taught from a place of knowing that We could not, and should not, act as our white counterparts did.
There are so many examples…
How about when our white counterparts show up to work fresh from a “group escapade” the night before? In my experience, everyone generally seems to think it’s funny; there may be a few jokes and a light chiding … and they all move on with their days. Reverse those roles and let it be a Black or Brown person, or group if you’re fortunate enough to work with a group of Us, and the chatter and consequences are completely different. I’ve seen management pull “Us” aside to reprimand “Us” and heard that same management express their disdain for “Our” work ethic. Maybe even mine…
Have you and your friends been out for a group meal or brunch where your party was all Black and/or Brown folks? Of course, you have. As it goes with most of Our gatherings, we tend to have a … voluminous conversation filled with laughter and animation. Am I right? To my benefit, I’ve been a part of many of these gatherings in my adult life while enjoying my time with family and friends. Have you ever noticed the looks, maybe stares, that come from surrounding tables from non-Black judgmental eyes? I’ve been with too many groups where we have been asked to quiet it down. I’ve been asked that more times than I care to recall while witnessing the same behavior from our counterparts, with NO insistence on them calming their voices to an “inside” or “appropriate” level.
How about that family in Baltimore that wasn’t allowed to sit in a restaurant because their son wasn’t “dressed appropriately”, according to the “dress code” of the restaurant? “No athletic wear allowed” is how it was explained, and it was suggested to the mother that she take her 9-year-old son home to change clothes if she wanted to be there. A few feet away, the mother glanced over at the patio and saw a white family leaving after enjoying their meal, with their white son dressed almost identically to her little Black boy. How do you imagine that Black mother felt as she was confronted with that context?
Imagine the embarrassment for that family and the trauma inflicted on that little boy because he wasn’t judged “appropriate” to dine in their establishment. Please explain how that circumstance is even defensible in 2020? I mean, it's not 1967 … right?
On one memorable night in DC with my bestie, we were enjoying a night out, bar, and lounge hopping as we do. Y’all who know us know, we’re never dressed as if we’re about to go work in your backyard.
We are always well put together.
Hell, its DC, so we’re always on some sort of vibe. This particular night, we decided to make our way to a restaurant that would reliably turn into a bar/lounge/club in the late-night hours. (Masa 14 to my DC folks that know. It’s closed now, and I’m not sad.) We were in line, noticing several white patrons going in and out, and taking note of their dress … because you never know with certain DC establishments (insert eye roll). We get to the door, present our IDs, and the doorman proceeds to tell us that we are not allowed in thanks to my bestie’s shoes. He had on a clean pair of Chuck Taylors. “No sneakers,” we were told. We looked inside the bar and I could see many white folks with sneakers, one white guy especially close to the door specifically rockin’ the Chucks! We pointed that out to the doorman, and he said “You’re not getting in.” We were angry, if not confused. We asked for a manager. When the manager came out, we were both fuming … and embarrassed. We asked “Why?” and pointed out the guy that was still standing close to the door with his Chucks and asked why the doorman said we were not allowed. To our shock and (disappointment seems too light a word), the manager looked at us and said there was nothing he could do about it, it was the bouncer’s decision.
WHAT!?! Embarrassed (why?), mortified, angry … just a few words that come to mind for how we were made to feel on that one particular night. Motivated, and after some research later, we discovered that this location was well known for “racial profiling.” We showed up looking exactly like (and probably better than most of) our white counterparts and were deemed “not appropriate.” I’d like to say that I didn’t understand … but I did.
Everyone who knows me knows that I’m a huge political junkie, so bear with me for a moment. On June 20, 2020 (one day delayed, thank God), Orangeman (46-1), held a desperately conceived and poorly-advised Tulsa campaign rally in the midst of the persistent, spreading, and deadly Covid-19 pandemic.
Despite the warnings of medical experts, scientists, the local Tulsa government, and his own CDC, Orangeman and his team proceeded out of absolute selfishness with this unsafe and irresponsible indoor gathering of thousands. The campaign, after significant pressure from local and national officials, as well as the informed public, begrudgingly compromised that they would give out masks (but not require anyone to wear them), and decided to legally cover their collective asses by having everyone in attendance sign a waiver saying that if they caught the COVID, they couldn’t sue. The moment that waiver was conceived, and then again when it was publicized, should have been moments for intelligent reasoning on the parts of those who wanted to attend, a questioning of whether this was the moment, and the gathering, that warranted for them the risk of their health and that of their families. (I’ll grant you, intelligent reasoning is not their defining trait.)
This brings us to the tragic example of Mr. Herman Cain; may God rest his soul. There exists a selection of “prominent” Black supporters of Orangeman, and an appetite to make them visible whenever possible. Herman Cain was proudly among them, co-chairman of Black Voices for Trump. Mr. Cain, decided, at the age of 74, Black and elderly, that he would attend and support the cause. He decided, perhaps encouraged by the campaign directly, to go against medical advice and all scientific evidence that this pandemic was affecting and killing the Black and Brown communities at an alarmingly increased rate. He attended, without a mask or any apparent distancing, just like his many white counterparts. (well, not that many, 6,200 or so…) As the old saying would go: a hard head makes a soft ass.
Let me pause and emphasize this: Herman Cain, despite his mistakes or views with which I did not agree, Cain was a graduate of Morehouse College, an accomplished Black businessman, and a prominent—yet often misguided, Black leader. I wish condolences for his family, friends, and colleagues.
My point is simply this: Mr. Cain may have thought that in the embrace of the “MAGA” that he was somehow protected from the dangers of Covid-19, and it’s devastating and disproportionate effect on his community— the Black community. Unfortunately, he was wrong. Ms. Rona would quickly prove that he could not move in the same way that his white counterparts could without dire consequences.
Sadly, and unnecessarily, he paid with his life. This should be a lesson for all within our Black and Brown communities across this land.
You are not immune from the effects of this pandemic—regardless of power, protection, or privilege. The science is real. Pay attention and protect Us!
There are many, many more examples that I, and I’m sure you, could share. From my personal experience, from what we see in the media daily, and from your own experiences. We simply can’t move how our White counterparts move.
Is this fair? Hell no! Is this defensible? Absolutely not! Can we work to change these experiences? To borrow a phrase, “Yes, we can.” If anything, the Black Lives Matter movement has shown that we are no longer accepting the status quo. We will no longer be demonized, ostracized, or vilified for being who we are, especially when we try to show up the same way as our white counterparts. How do We now speak up during these experiences of injustice and unfair treatments? I now choose NOT to be quiet, but to speak my peace, film if necessary, and then blast offenders on social media if I must. If anything has proven true in recent days, an organization does not want / cannot afford bad press or social pressure. Sad to think that’s the price of conscience, but just look how Starbucks, the “Washington Football Team”, Quaker Oats (Aunt Jemimah!) have finally reacted to the moral reckoning we are all experiencing and forcing.
All We are asking for is to be treated with dignity, fairness, and the level of respect that all of humanity should be shown. I am appreciative of the progress that We have made so far, from the late-1960’s to now, but I demand more. As should You.
As I move forward in this life, I expect and demand to be respected and valued equally!
More to come soon… I would love to read about some of your experiences, feel free to share in the comment. Let’s start a dialogue.
Editor's Credit: Latoya Renfrow, Scott Paradine & Kevin Lei