When I walked inside I saw that the line was a mile long. Okay... well, not quite a mile... but it did make me wonder what was going on. I even found myself going down the list of holidays in my mind that would possibly cause a sudden rush to the United States Post Office on January 31st. I came up with nothing. So rather than get in a huff, I stood in line with everyone else and waited my turn.
In front of me stood a woman who was clearly Muslim. I could tell by her clothes and the beautiful head-scarf she was wearing. I just had to figure out a way to start a conversation with her. It helped that she had a warm smile. I complimented her scarf. From there I found out she was originally from Pakistan and has lived in America for 11 years. She likes it here.
There was a time in my life I would have looked at a woman like her and chalked her up as "the enemy" especially in the wake of 9/11. I would have certainly never struck up a conversation with her, let alone thought she was someone I could be friends with. Just goes to show what can happen when you refuse to label or stereotype people even when the temptation presents itself.
Then right about the time I was feeling all proud of myself for not labeling, I heard this woman standing just a few feet away talking on her cellphone. I'm positive the entire post office heard her talking on her cellphone. Yes, she was that. loud. The conversation went something like this...
"Somebody called the PO-lice on RJ today."
"Cause he black."
"I already told you... cause he black."
At this point I could feel my butt-cheeks clenching and my entire body tightening up. I more or less froze on the spot and looked off in the opposite direction pretending not to hear the conversation. I am sure my face was flushed with embarrassment. Only one word would suffice in that moment... awk.ward.
The white woman in front of me rolled her eyes. I couldn't even look at the 2 women behind me who happened to be black. I did wonder what they were thinking though as the conversation continued... if they felt as uncomfortable as I did? The woman on the phone rattled on...
"It was a brand-new bike and since he the only black boy in the neighborhood some white person called the PO-lice."
"You know... selling drugs... up to no good...he black so he must have stole the bike. All those stereotypes."
"He even had to show the PO-lice his receipt to prove it was his bike."
"I done told you.. cause he black."
If she said it once, she said it at least 5 times. LOUDLY. So all could hear.
I finally worked up my nerve and took a peek at the lady behind me. She had such a sweet smile; her eyes apologetic. I understood her embarrassment since her race wasn't being represented very well in that moment. There was no point in that woman having an entire conversation on her phone about racism in the post office for all 20 people (most of whom were white) in the line to hear. I realize that IS a conversation that nobody enjoys but is sometimes necessary. However, there is a time and a place for everything. And the United States Post Office ain't it.
I've had several hours to reflect on why "I" felt embarrassed. I wasn't the one who called the PO-lice on an innocent black boy riding his bike. Yet, her words rang true and I knew it deep inside. I could definitely see a white person calling the law if they saw a black boy riding a brand new bike in their all-white neighborhood. They would immediately assume it was stolen. And why? "cause he black" or "he selling drugs" or "he up to no good". All of which are common stereotypes.
The woman was right in her assessment. I will give her that much. Make no mistake about it though. I disagreed with her spouting all that out in such a public setting while on a private phone conversation. It was awkward... uncomfortable... and highly inappropriate; an indictment against the entire white race. I just wanted her to hush up. I guess sometimes the truth hurts.
The positive side of this is it has further strengthened my resolve not to use labels and stereotypes. As I have evolved as a person, I have chosen to live my life differently than my Southern upbringing would have me do. And though I love my Southern roots, there are some things I've had to let go. Rather than see race, religion, or color... I now choose to see the person. I want to appreciate the beauty in all of us. After all, we are the human race... and we are one. It's high time we act like it.
