American Noir
“Fuck you! You black asshole!” she shouted as she poured the contents of her drink all over me.
I had just arrived at a crowded bar in midtown Manhattan to meet a few colleagues for happy hour after work. We were huddled in casual conversation when someone walked by and forcefully pushed me as they were walking by; so much so, that I bumped into my colleague standing across from me. Agitated, I turned around to the culprit and sneered, “You can say excuse me!” to which she responded with the racially charged comment above. An uncomfortable silence fell over my colleagues as they were aghast by her racially charged remark and wondered aloud if people “like that” still existed.
The story got worse from that point but those details are not important. What is important is that these racially charged moments of aggression are potentially lurking around every corner of the Black experience. I could tell of the time when I was in high school, walking home from basketball practice in my catholic school uniform, when two police officers jumped the curb and drew their guns on my teammate and I. I could tell of the time I was in Atlanta when a cop pulled me over in my rental car and said, “Boy, get me your [rental] papers, I want to make sure this is yours,” before I was then pulled over again less than 3 minutes later by another cop who told me that my headlights were not on (it was 2pm). I could tell of the time when an ex-girlfriend's roommate was disgusted that she let a Black man take a shower in their bathroom. I could tell of the time when I was at the Intercontinental in Mexico and the hotel manager said to my friends, “Your black friend isn’t welcome here.”
All of those horrible incidents of racial aggression don’t add up to the constant barrage of racial microaggressions that occur on a daily basis in the Black experience. Psychology Today defines racial microaggressions as, “brief and commonplace daily verbal, behavioral, or environmental indignities, whether intentional or unintentional, that communicate hostile, derogatory, or negative racial slights and insults towards people of color.”
Standing at 6’1” with a muscular build, I have a comparatively large physical presence. Layered on top of that is the fact that I am proudly dark skinned, so you might better understand some of the microaggressions that occur in my daily Black experience. However, what some may seem to forget, is that before all of those descriptors, I am a hominid (i.e. a human) with dignity.
When I walked into business meetings dressed in a suit and got asked where I played football, I know it was an attempt to erode my dignity. When I conducted a meeting and was then asked where I received my education, I know it was an attempt to erode my dignity. Being chased down and emasculated by another visiting employee at my office, who didn’t realize that I also worked there because I was casually dressed, was an attempt to erode my dignity. Conversely, last night, while wearing a custom tux and repeatedly being asked security type questions is an attempt to erode my dignity. Having to suppress my frustrations in fear of being labeled an “angry black man” while white colleagues have the ability to freely express their frustrations, is an attempt to erode my dignity. Not seeing any Black executives at the company by which you’re employed, is an attempt to erode my dignity. Being told, “you’re not like those black people,” when you absolutely are just like your black brothers and sisters, is an attempt to erode my dignity. Being told that you don't sound like you were born and raised in Brooklyn because you’re well spoken, is an attempt to erode my dignity. People that have told me that they, “don’t see race,” are attempting to erode my dignity. Going on a date and being told, “I know I’ve put on too much weight when black guys start hitting on me,” is an attempt to erode my dignity. Dating someone who says, “my family will never accept you,” is an attempt to erode my dignity. Seeing the recurring violence against Black bodies and the equally as divisive rhetoric that follows on social platforms, is an attempt to erode my dignity. If this reads as an overwhelming paragraph of experiences then just imagine living it every day.
Then there are the psychological questions that begin to fester in my mind because of the racial climate in which we live. Constantly wondering if I am walking too close to someone thereby putting their feelings above my own, is a subtle attempt to erode my dignity. Sitting across from a new prospective client and wondering how does this person view Black people, is a subtle attempt to erode my dignity. Walking out of an interview and wondering if you will or will not get the job on the merit of your experience and not because of the color of your skin, is a subtle attempt to erode my dignity. All of these thoughts come in a flash but can tally up over the course of time to weigh on one's psyche.
The experiences above are not shared by my white colleagues and friends and therefore we lack the equality that the Declaration of Independence illustrates. Ignoring this difference continues to marginalize our experience as humans with darker epidermis. Despite the aggressions and microaggressions lurking around any given corner, Black people across the diaspora are not victims, we are mighty victors in the face of an ongoing attempt to rob us of a dignity that we hold so dear. But we will not crumble to any perils that may be lurking around any corners because as Maya Angelou wrote, “I am the dream and the hope of the slave. I rise. I rise. I rise.”