something I’ve been cussing about lately…
I’m tired of being black.
I park in my garage in my affluent white neighborhood. I live near a restaurant. Every few days someone tries to kindly tell me “you can’t park there for the restaurant” despite the sign we can all see that says ‘no restaurant parking.’ I usually look at the mail in my hand, my groceries, and say I live here. There’s a few minutes of stares and a quiet ‘oh.’
I’m tired of being black.
I walked into a sandwich shop and was the only chocolate chip in the milk on the ‘other’ side of town. I was uncomfortable and felt threatened by the stares. Strangely, I was the threat to everyone else. Imagine that. One of me was a threat to 50 of ‘them.’ I wanted to eat there but just took my food to go. I wasn’t welcome.
I’m tired of being black.
I worry when I have a son will he be killed simply because he’s alive. How will I have “the talk” that tells him no matter how educated, loving, and wonderful he becomes – he’s still an educated, loving and wonderful BLACK man and will always be a thug.
I’m tired of being black.
As a woman, I’m a bitch anyway when I’m assertive. As a black woman, I’m a black bitch and don’t know my place. If I ever need public assistance like my mother did when she lost her job in the 90s layoffs I’m a welfare queen. I remember “the talk.” You must think harder, move faster, reach higher and work double to just be one step behind instead of two. I can do anything but remember that the higher up you go, you may run into someone who attributes your success to affirmative action. You are a black woman and you carry everyone’s burden. And don’t eat fried chicken at work.
Continue reading more from Dee Rene over at Laugh.Cry.Cuss…
