moving past the hate

I've lived in the south before and after twenty five years on this earth, I've seen the ugliness of racism but never before has it been directed at me. Living in Kentucky, I got some curious looks, some ignorant but harmless questions such as "Oh you're a mixed child? Is that why you've got hair like that." but nothing like what I experienced in an isolated incident, at a jazz club one night.

Let me rewind. We were at The Maple Leaf Bar to see Rebirth, an amazing jazz band. Most of our group met up to have some drinks and let loose after a long day of advocating for the city's most desperate people, those that had been forgotten and left behind. New Orleans has an amazing music scene and Andrew's friend Clarence had introduced us to the real treasure of the city early on in the week, taking us to the Frenchman to hear some of his friends play at a local joint.

Tonight had already been special and random: we had met Mos Def early on in the night. (If you do not know who that is, please listen to Black on Both Sides or any of his work with Talib Kweli aka Blackstar) We talked about concerts I had seen of his at Ruby Skye, Rock the Bells and Coachella. He told me that it was good to meet a real fan, signed an autograph and would later invite me a couple friends to eat at the Camelia Grill. (we didn't end up going since we had literally eaten there a couple hours before but it was cool to be invited)

Rebirth came on and the music was incredible. The energy was electric and people started dancing and swaying. We started getting pushed but it was understandable since the crowd was so large and the venue so small. When you go to a lot of music events, you get used to this kind of thing and I thought nothing of it. But soon a few people were too drunk and started trying to make their way to the front and the shoving became more violent. Brunella and I moved to the side of the bar to let these people get by without being harmed. So far so good.

But there was a drunken straggler that wanted to get to his friends. It was a domino effect: he meant no harm but he was definitely inebriated. He hit Bru, she knocked into me and I got knocked into a tall, severe-looking caucasian woman. I apologized and explained that there was not much I could do. I asked if she was ok. She nodded and didn't respond much afterwards.

Her friend was a completely different story. She had seen her friend get knocked and despite my apology and explanation which she likely did not hear, she had become irate. She shoved me saying get out of here. I told her to respect my private space. She brought her face close to mine and yelled get the [insert expletive] out! I explained there was nowhere to go as I quickly searched for a solution: fight or flight? Obviously not a physical fight since this woman was the combined weight of Brunella and I but could I get her to calm down? Maybe.. I began again, "Maam,"

She cut me off with the following, "You slanty eyed [insert expletive]. Why don't you and your friend go back to your own damn country!"

There wasn't much to do or say after that. I examined her face, angry and a red mass of seething fury. I looked at her friend's face, mortified and embarrassed. Just then the band took a break and the crowd began filing outside for air or making their way towards the bar. Brunella and I walked outside to breathe to understand what had just happened.

I refused to let it spoil the evening and more time passed. At the end of the night, we spotted her with the thin friend and another man standing across the street. I told her she was a racist. She pretended to ignore me but her face, tight lipped and strained told me that she knew that she had severely messed up. She did not apologize but her company's actions spoke loud and clear. Neither would look her in the face. Both of them turned away from her, their body language clearly denoting that they did not wish to be associated with her, be considered a part of her hatred.

I've thought about this a lot in the days since it has happened. What could I have done differently? Why did she decide to say what she said? In the end, I have no answers. But I do know this: this woman is not representative of every woman in the South or even just New Orleans. When the lawyer that I worked for this week found out through the grapevine what happened, I was told he was livid, and said that had he been there, he would have done much more than give her a piece of his mind. That he would stick his foot where the sun doesn't shine so to speak. Professor Abriel had much the same reaction, disgust for that woman and her hateful words.

It took me longer to figure out how I felt about what had happened. Having discussed it with family and friends, although I too feel disgust, I also feel sadness and pity. Sadness because I know now firsthand that racism in it's ugliest form is still alive. But more than that I feel pity for this woman that will never know the wealth of perspectives and the joys of learning from people different from ourselves. I think about the rainbow of friends I have, the myriad of experiences I would have lost out if I had never encountered people of different ethnic backgrounds and let them into my life. I cannot imagine a life without this kind of diversity. I also pity how trapped her mind is: to see color before the person behind the color. To have race influence your decision before you meet a person and prevent you from truly seeing a person for who they are not what they look like.

Of course I wasn't excited to have racial slurs yelled at me. But in the end, I walk away grateful. Grateful that I am not a victim of this social disease. Grateful that most people are also not afflicted. Grateful for how far this country has come and finally grateful that I grew up in a generation and place where I was free to see people beyond their race. I can only hope that this woman will also grow from this experience. I wish her good luck and thank her for reminding me of all that I have that she has not been able to experience.