“We Don’t Wanna Sit By Them…”
In these times, I never expect to come across someone who blatantly disregards me because of my race. That may sound a little naive, but I live by the creed that you should treat others the way that you are treated. Because of that, I am always cordial, even when i don’t feel like I should be. It is my way of dealing with uncomfortable situations; kill ‘em with kindness, that’s me.
My son and I went out to dinner last week. As we were sitting in the waiting area, an older couple walked in. They appeared to be on a first name basis with the guy at the front, laughing and joking as he asked them how many they had for dinner. The woman—older, white, pudgy—took a quick look around the restaurant and paused as her eyes passed over me and my son. We were engaged in a lively conversation about some chick that my son is digging on, but that didn’ deter me from hearing her, loud and clear, as she turned back to the guy at the front and said, “We don’t wanna sit by them…”
My reaction? I laughed. Out loud. My son pulled on my jacket sleeve, because my laughter (I’m sure) could be heard all over the restaurant. He heard what the woman said, and when I turned to face him, his face showed a look of disbelief and pain. I put my arm around his shoulder, and he whispered, “Why are you laughing?”
I stopped for a moment to consider his question. Why was I laughing? I came to the conclusion that I was laughing because there was nothing else for me to do. I was also laughing because I thought, “What the hell would make her think that we wanted to sit by herass anyway?” Racism is an ugly thing, and when it is thrown at you, without warning, there is an instant fight or flight reaction that surfaces. I heard that woman say those words, and I just wanted to grab up the brown boy and my brown self and get as far away from that restaurant as quick as I could. Something stopped me.
That something was the fact that Ihad a right to be in that place, and eat dinner with my child, just as she did. A long time has passed since the era of “the colored section” and having to pick up our meals in a greasy brown paper bag at the back door. There is nowhere that I cannot go, and do whatever it is that I choose. That woman and her racist attitude can no longer limit me from walking into and eating at any restaurant, store, or anywhere else. I have blood flowing through my veins as much as she does, and my money spends just like hers. If she wants to live her life—short as it may be, given her age—with that kind of hate bottled up inside her, that has absolutely nothing to do with me.
I laughed because it dawned on me just how miserable her life is. And I laughed because I realized how blessed mine is. I no longer need her, or anyone else’s, approval. I can live my life freely, and without accepting judgement from others.
As we walked out of the restaurant, my son kept his eyes peeled on me. I had told him over dinner that I was going to walk up to her and tell her that I didn’t want to sit by her ass either. I didn’t, because that would only be playing her game with her. And I chose to show her that her words didn’t damper my spirits. Because when it all boils down, it is her life that is marred by her prejudice, not mine.
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Tags: Racism
Its always my belief that people who lash out at others, use others as the butt of their jokes, etc. are doing so because they are miserable. I actually feel sorry for them. I’m glad you showed your son that you don’t have to take on another person’s misery and pain.
Symphony –
You are exactly right…pity was the only thing that she deserved, and that was what she got.