Letter to the aggressive sidewalk peddlers in uptown Manhattan

Have you ever been in a situation where someone said something offensive to you, but you couldn’t think of a great response until at least 2 hours later? Well, this is my response to a couple of “sidewalk peddlers” who have been increasingly aggressive in their tone towards me recently.

“So you don’t care about police brutality?”

The words seep in through my ears and twist around my brain.

My stomach grows heavy as concrete as I turn slowly.

My eyes land on the speaker and I restrain the urge to scream.

She stood there, natural hair in an afro, glasses atop her nose, as if expecting me to smile wide and join her in her fruitless attempt to garner support midday on a progressive Ivy campus. I resisted the urge to cock my head sideways and insult her effort.

I usually ignore the comments (“seasoned” Brooklynite that I am, brushing off the catcalls en route to the subway). But this was different. The situation, my emotional fatigue, her tone. I couldn’t gather the words fast enough, but soon came face to face with her.

If only she knew, I thought! That a black body lying prone, hands up, could have very well been my brother. My father. My student. The person I love simply because the police are threatened by the color of his skin as it glistens in the sun when he reaches for his driver’s license at the traffic stop.

If only she knew that I’ve organized with others at Howard when Trayvon was shot, when all of this came into focus. That I sought the comfort of my mother when Zimmerman was acquitted, and that I’ve been numb ever since. That the killing of black women isn’t the priority right now in this country and that I’ve been dismissed in conversations when I try to assert my right as a woman of color because of the fairness of my skin.

Excuse me for not wanting to donate my money, my mental energy, my exhausted emotional state to your organization. Excuse me for not being ready to address the trauma I face when I hear about yet another civil rights violation. Excuse me for not allowing your anger about standing on the sidewalk in 95 degree weather affect my resolve. Excuse me for not letting your guilt-inducing tactics sway me into wavering on my stance.

So I’m not ready to sit down with you near the end of my lunch break (after I’ve spent all morning creating ways to engage my black and brown students in discourse about their lives and before I scroll through my feed for the umpteenth time, trying the scores of images of black bodies in the street).

Because even though I’m not ready to take the action that might suffice in your eyes, I am in front of my black and brown students day in and out, collecting the strength to look them in the eyes and say that they are worth it. That they matter.

I want them to understand who they are and why their presence in their communities is important. I want them to feel valued and know that their voices can be loud enough to enact change. I want them to see things from another perspective, so hopefully they can understand that we are all more similar than different.

Microagressions and privilege: did that really just happen?

 

I love to travel. Discovering new places both domestically and abroad has opened my eyes to different aspects of the human experience I would have otherwise missed had I never left my comfort zone. Besides the superficial benefits of getting to see famous landmarks and enjoy great food, meeting new people and gleaning their perspectives on life make for an enriching experience.

As a female traveler, there have often been instances where I had to take extra precautions or alter my travel plans in order to safely enjoy my adventures. In the U.S, this happens much less often than abroad, but traveling domestically always brings about the unwanted attention of those who can’t conceive why women would consider traveling alone.

On a recent trip to Pittsburgh, I experienced a typical sexist remark from a (drunk) football fan who probably thought paying me a “compliment” would boost my self esteem. (Note that this remark came during the brief 5 minutes out of the weekend where I was alone- we’ll save that for another post). Surprisingly, this instance of misogyny wasn’t the most disturbing expression of white male privilege that I witnessed while in the Steel City.

When I travel in the U.S or abroad, people are usually perplexed and intrigued by the color of my skin. In most cases, I’m privileged enough to escape any overt discrimination and, outside of the occasional catcalls from men, I get to really enjoy the cities that I visit because I avoid most overt negative attention. During this trip, though, there were a number of subtle racial microagressions that my travel companion and I experienced that seemed to compound as the trip wore on.

Seemingly insignificant slights at JFK during the check-in and security process hadn’t deterred my vacation mood. I did notice, however, the constant glares in downtown Pittsburgh, a city not necessarily known for welcoming diversity. Even though I was overjoyed at the constant stream of black and gold at every corner, the tension of feeling like “outsiders” when walking around the city crept into consciousness often enough.

At Heinz field, as the Steelers game neared the end of the first half, my partner ventured out of our row, as several other people had already done during the game. On his way out, he heard the person sitting in the aisle seat mumble “you should go around next time.” Not thinking much of it, he returned to the row and the man remained seated. “Pardon me, sir I need to get to my seat.” The man remained seated and asked him, again, to walk around (we were sitting much closer to one side than the other). After a back and forth exchange that ended with the older white man begrudgingly stepping to the side, the element of this exchange that stuck out was the look of unwarranted”fear and anger” from the man.

He wore no Steelers gear, just a camouflaged jacket that’s often used by serious game hunters. He couldn’t have been younger that 75, and since so many other (white) fans had already left and come back to their seats, his reaction at this particular moment seemed bizarre.

If you’ve ever been to a football game, you understand that part of the experience is being squeezed into a plastic seat among thousands of other fans, thus having to let others in and out of your row whenever they want. Sure, this can be slightly annoying, but you get over it after a while if you have the slightest bit of empathy.

I find something very fascinating about this man’s reaction to having to stand up and let someone through the row. As a Steelers fan, this man supports a team that is comprised of 80% African-American players and is 1 of 5 NFL teams that boast a black head coach. Our camouflaged “friend” supports black players each and every week, yet his experiences with people of color  on a personal level suggest that he believes in deep seated racist ideologies.

The Problem with Calling it Out

 Microaggressions are naturally very difficult to explain or rationalize. Anyone who is unaware of cycles of oppression or discrimination would find it difficult to understand the humiliation of racial slights.

Let’s say that in a parallel universe, we had called out this man for his overtly racist comments and actions. Let’s say we, rationally, had confronted him in a calm manner and mentioned that he is now in 2015 and legal segregation is, in fact, over and done. The myths he was probably fed about black people were indeed false and miscegenation is no longer a crime. An ideal situation would dictate that he and his friends would have offered a prompt and sincere apology.

Anyone who has experienced a microaggression or any racial discrimination understands that this is out of the question for many reasons. This kind of peaceful outcome would require:

• the white person to acknowledge his racist perspective

No one in the 21st century wants to be outwardly labelled as a racist. Even people who interact very rarely with people of color, and have little insight into what the experience is like, would balk at the idea of associating themselves with members of the KKK. Americans typically summon an image of white hoods on horseback when you mention the word “racism” because there haven’t been many opportunities to discuss race and racism openly on a national level before. If anything, Barack Obama’s election made it easier for white Americans to remove the notion of racism from their consciousness. If you had voted for him, there’s no way you could be considered racist. Even if you didn’t vote for him, it’s because you disagreed with his policies. Even if you doubted his American citizenship, it was because his dad was Kenyan.

• Americans to acknowledge that racism still exists.

America seems like a colorblind society to anyone chooses to ignore the institutional and structural discriminatory practices of the U.S government. The U.S is a free country “for all” if you’re under the impression that all people acquired the right to vote in 1870. Politicians who are now in power are the sons (and daughters) of former politicians/citizens who supported segregation. They are the children who grew up with black nannies and images of black “comedians” and entertainers who showcased plastered smiles on their faces. Many of these politicians haven’t adapted to an America where black men and women hold equal power. This adaptation requires a huge ideological change before true equality can even be considered a possibility in the U.S.

• a shift in the power structure between people of color and whites

Very similarly, this can only happen when the overused tropes of people of color in the media are no longer the only archetypes that represent black and brown men and women. Outdated archetypes, like the black athlete or the aggressive black woman make it acceptable, in the minds of whites, to carry those stereotypes over to reality. Unless this unbalanced structure is broken down, and the stereotypes are seen as just that, encounters on a personal level like the one at the stadium will continue to occur everyday for people of color.

 

(un)safe Spaces in Black Academia

In case you missed it in these past few weeks, attending a university is yet another thing people of color cannot do in the U.S. Between Mizzou and Harvard, the message of exclusion for people of color in higher academia has been made loud and clear.

COLUMBIA, MO – NOVEMBER 9: Jonathan Butler (c), a University of Missouri grad student who did a 7 day hunger strike listens during a forum speaking to students on the campus of University of Missouri – Columbia on November 9, 2015 in Columbia, Missouri. Students celebrate the resignation of University of Missouri System President Tim Wolfe amid allegations of racism. (Photo by Michael B. Thomas/Getty Images)

In response to widespread racism and discrimination against black students on Mizzou’s campus, several students rallied together to demand focus on the reality of living as black students on predominately white institutions (PWIs). As several voices have pointed out, protests like these are nothing new; students of color (and their allies) across the country have demanded attention to bring change and awareness to their campus communities.

In this particular case though, the backlash from the protests at Mizzou have highlighted why black voices remain silenced in largely white spaces. Conservative pundits, color blind well-meaning white people, and even outwardly racist folks alike were quick to shame protesters for voicing their concerns, accusing protesters of ignoring other issues around the world.

Meanwhile, the blatant acts of racism on Harvard’s campus demonstrate the reality that blacks are especially excluded from ivy league institutions which have been built upon the notorious legacies that founded this country. The irrational fear, grounded solely in illusions of white privilege, has emboldened white students, born of this legacy of hatred, to commit hateful (yet cowardly) acts on college campuses.

The seemingly inherent fear of blacks somehow diluting the pure prestige of ivy league schools has trained many white college students to believe that racism and discrimination are normal aspects of college culture. An NPR story on the future of Mizzou after the protests featured an interview with a white student.

“I honestly want these protests to try and die down,” he says. “I want the message to continue, but I think it’s attracting a lot of unnecessary national attention from just everywhere. And it’s giving Mizzou a bad image in my opinion … I don’t think we deserve what’s going on right now. I just kind of want things to go back to normal, how they were. Nice and quiet.”

Many of the phrases used here are elements of coded language that get thrown around in an effort to lessen the sting of racism (and make white people more comfortable with expressing their ideas publicly.) The idea of a “normal” highlights the lack of awareness of students who don’t understand what it’s like to feel unsafe in most spaces. The privilege of power extends to these students when they can walk freely to class instead of avoiding potentially fatal threats on campus.

While the issues surrounding these recent incidents remain, it’s clear that the next generation of leaders refuse to allow racism to subtly coat the surface of academic spaces. The black lives matter movement has continued to gain momentum, despite it’s inner struggle in grappling with intersectionality. In order to see true change in public spaces, the uncomfortable conversations about race must continue.

Otherwise, things might just go back to how they were. Nice and quiet.

Misogyny and the Policing of Black Female Bodies

“When we think of police brutality, it’s normally men we envisage as the victims” Olivia Marks. This has been a huge concern of mine in regards to the black lives matter movement. Black men who suffer brutality at the hands of police are, more often than women, shoved into the spotlight of national media. We see these images and hear their names so often that it can be easy to forget about the women who are also victims.

And while some would argue that women suffer a different type of racism at the hands of police, insinuating that it’s not as brutal as what men face, gender often plays a small role when it comes to racism in the police force.

If you haven’t read the Guardian piece on Sandra Bland and Serena Williams yet, Olivia Marks does a much better job at describing each incident in detail.

Let’s start with the best athlete of all time, Serena Williams.

Unless you’ve been living under a rock for the past few weeks, you know that she won the Wimbledon championship for a 6th time during her illustrious athletic career. Think about a time when you felt confident, powerful, and strong, characteristics I’m sure Williams feels as she dominates on the court.

Now, imagine someone coming along to belittle you in your moment of confidence. Maybe they comment on your performance, or give a particularly mean-spirited criticism. Or even worse, they criticize you for something you have no control over.

The amount of hateful criticism Serena faced after her most recent win is disgusting. The main gripe among these critics, who I can only imagine are adolescent white teenagers in denial about their physique, is that she is “built like a man.” Since when did having a visibly strong physique equate with looking masculine?

Oh yea, I forgot. Women who body build have to wear bikinis so we can delineate their gender.

This obsession with “body image” shone through in The New York Times most recent piece that focused on Williams. In the article, white, petite, young tennis players are asked about their bodies and how they look/play in comparison to Williams.

One notable quote from the highest paid female athlete, Maria Shirapova:

“I always want to be skinnier with less cellulite; I think that’s every girl’s wish,” she said, laughing.

I can’t get through that one without cringing. As Amelia McDonnel Perry mentions in her criticism of the article, the most frustrating part of the piece is how it focuses on Williams. If it had simply been an article on body image and sports/tennis, using a plethora of viewpoints of tennis players, the writer could have pulled it off well. But because the piece makes Serena’s body type the “other” in this homogeneous group of athletes, the obvious racial undertones creep to the surface. While this piece doesn’t go so far as to equate Williams with a “gorilla” like those on Twitter did, it hints at the idea that black women do not fit into the metaphorical box of predominantly white female sports.

If you’re still unclear on all the issues here, watch this video:

How does this relate to Sandra Bland?

Once we as a society have a group which we can call “other,” these attitudes become dangerous. Those who equate Serena’s physical strength with masculinity no longer see her as a woman. Instead, they see her as an animal with brute strength and who, potentially, could be dangerous. When this erroneous stereotype is applied to all women who look similar to Serena Williams, it’s problematic. Those in power who hold this perspective are the most troubling.

The police involved in Sandra Bland’s tragic death claimed that she was combative on the side of the road when they pulled her over for improper signalling. If the police were exposed to the derogatory comments about Williams earlier that week, those racist and sexist undertones were present in their consciousness. Even if they didn’t agree with the criticism, they viewed Sandra Bland in a different light then they might have before. If she was combative, they saw her as a threat. One police officer very clearly slams Bland’s head against the concrete, in an attempt to subdue her. Why would he need to use such brute force in this situation?

The police officers didn’t see Bland as a person; they saw her as a part of the other who didn’t belong. This dangerous concept ultimately led to Bland’s sudden and unexplained death. The claim that she committed suicide is an obvious ploy of the police department hoping to avoid any serious investigations.

For many reasons, police brutality against women of color is swept under the rug quickly after it occurs. The archetype of the “angry black woman” often goes as justification for police officers to handle women with undue force. Layered with the inappropriate discussion of black women in the media (conversations which usually focus on their hair, dress, physical physique, and behavior), misogyny is as detrimental as ever to black women’s well being. It’s critical to be aware of what’s happening and to stay vocal.

“If you are a Black person, you can be one police encounter away from death. Any age. Any gender. Any class background.” -Jamilah Lemieux 

It isn’t going away anytime soon

Here I was, typing a response to some recent sexist comments and behaviors I experienced from men in New York City.

And then this happened.

It would be nearly pointless to discuss the obviously discriminatory way that this terrorist is being analyzed by popular media outlets. As usual, he’s a “disturbed loner” who possibly had friends of different races. The backlash against labeling him as a racist terrorist comes in the ironically just idea of “innocent until proven guilty” (perhaps that’s why we’re still calling him the shooting suspect, as if there is any doubt that he carried out this massacre after his confession.)

I would rather discuss the tragically ironic idea that this self-proclaimed racist, who wore pro-apartheid paraphernalia on his jacket, was given the honor of wearing a bullet proof vest when finally captured in North Carolina.

2 things:

1. He was able to flee as far as North Carolina before eventually being captured ALIVE. Walter Scott barely made it 20 feet after a traffic stop before a police officer shot him dead. The invisibility of white privilege made his escape almost a success as he drove 250 miles north of Charleston.

2. Watch this video where the terrorist is gently escorted into a police car after shooting 9 innocent people dead. Now, see how these police officers treat these female teenagers during a pool party in Texas. Or, how Eric Garner is treated by Staten Island police after reportedly selling illegal cigarettes.

Don’t see the difference? In all situations, according to our society’s skewed view of what justice is, each person getting what they deserve. A killer will be put on trial to spew his racist ideology in court while people of color get “what they deserve” in the eyes of law enforcement. If this 21 year old were part of ISIS, and had committed the same crime, perhaps we’d see an investigation into a larger group motive; maybe he was part of a global terrorist plot. No, the police decided that he had acted alone. We will probably hear the insanity defense as a misguided way to address our own fear of what human beings are capable of.

While I would love to delve into the individual lives of each innocent victim, I’m afraid it might not effect change. In each instance of racially motivated violence, we know the name of the perpetrator and the victims’ names become hashtags. Those close to them remember their legacies but the broader society forgets their names as quickly as it forgets the discussion on gun law reform.

What would it take to change the nature of the way we analyze and deal with cases of racist hatred in the U.S? We can talk ourselves hoarse about his motives and personality, but it doesn’t address the larger, structural causes of his actions. We attempt to brush these things off as a way expedite the healing process. We, as a country, fail to address the real motivations of racism and hatred as a means to avoid those difficult conversations that make us uncomfortable.

Racism is not a fad or a trend. It isn’t going away and unaddressed racist violence will only exacerbate and encourage others who share this dangerous ideology to commit more violence and openly express their views.

“I was sentenced to life plus 30 years by an all-White jury. What I saw in prison was wall-to-wall Black flesh in chains. Women caged in cells. But we’re the terrorists. It just doesn’t make sense.” Assata Shakur 

Progress

It seems difficult to keep up with the “newest” person of color who dies at the hands of the police lately. Either the predominance of these occurrences has picked up or the media coverage prevalent on social media has made it too easy for us to share the newest data, name, or viral meme.

People of color are dying. This list, although possibly not exhaustive, is difficult to read. The stories of black people killed at the hands of officers in the past 15 years. Even more difficult to think about the number of times police officers have not been charged with crimes after these deaths occur. The value of a life, in comparison to that of an officer of the law, is null and void. (But if you’re keeping score, black bodies have always been considered a commodity.)

People across the country, the world even, celebrated when the 6 police officers were charged in the aftermath of Freddie Gray’s death. After peaceful protests that attracted the attention of the National Guard and prompted city wide curfews, it seemed that Baltimore might finally get the justice it sought.

Or, maybe the case will go the route of Eric Garner, Timothy Russell and Malissa Williams,  John Crawford, or the countless number of transgender people of color who are killed by police without swift justice being brought on the officers.

But wait, you say. Those cases didn’t end in indictments. This case just HAS to end in “justice” because Marilyn Mosby is here to save the day (let’s be clear, no shade to my fellow HBCU graduate.) Let’s have hope that this case will have a similar result to the “loud music” trial. This guy went to prison for life for killing Jordan Davis. They can’t possibly let ALL of these officers off.

Good point. Perhaps we’ll see justice for the 6 police officers who allowed Freddie Gray’s death to become an inevitability. That will definitely compensate his family for his untimely death and, if we’re lucky, heal the wound of racism that’s been ravaging our urban communities for decades.

An indictment is far from progress. Remember Aiyana Jones? (Possibly not if you still think only black men are killed by police.) After police conducted a “no knock” raid on her home, she died of a gunshot wound. The case was later dismissed (but not before the indicted officer tried to blame the death on Aiyana’s grandmother bumping into him, causing the gun to fire.)

How do we know that the 6 officers involved in Freddie Gray’s death won’t convince the jury that they had “reasonable” cause to treat him the way that they did? That it was a necessary use of force to keep him in the police wagon, handcuffed, without restraint? How do we know the officers won’t convince the jury that Gray was a threat to their safety and were simply standing their ground when he had his legally owned knife?

At this point, I’m not willing to put my faith in a justice system that arbitrarily decides when a 12 year old boy in a park is a threat to the public. I’m not willing to believe that a system built on the backs of people of color is, all of a sudden, willing to drop those systemically racist notions for the fairy tale of a post-racial society. And I certainly will not condemn those who react to this racist system with violence or “looting;” it’s obvious that black bodies will be policed whether they behave “peacefully” or not.

So until we begin to admit that the knife is there, please don’t ask for my opinion on the “all lives matter” movement. And please don’t ask if I think violence is the “answer.”

“The master’s tools will never dismantle the master’s house.” Audrey Lorde