the one about being a black man wearing a mask and racism

I was going to dedicate this post to the annihilation of any semblance of self isolation measures this weekend as we, here in the DMV, were blessed with gorgeous weather and were baited by the blue angels flyover to go outside en masse. I was going to lament humanities’ penchant for self-destruction even as I myself succumbed to the lures of a dawning summer.

Alas, I will instead dedicate this post to the Karen who watched me suspiciously as I went on my daily walk in my big body, my bold black skin and my woefully inadequate face mask. Karen works at what looked like a nail salon or beauty supply store and was in the process of taking materials out of the trunk of her car that was situated on the corner of a large boulevard. As I walked by in my hoodie, sweats, mask and black skin, she stopped in the middle of whatever she was doing to make sure that I fully crossed the street before she left her car to go into her shop.

Now let me stop right here. This is an affluent neighborhood (which means nothing) with overly wide streets and friendly neighborhood cops. It was approaching 7am so the sun was fully out and there were a few people out and about minding their business in the same way I was trying to mind my own. This “interaction” could not have been more than a few seconds, but it reminded me that my neighbors do not recognize my humanity.

Now some of you may be reading this with an air of incredulity and maybe even pity. How do I literally walk through life just assuming that people consider me a threat. To those people, I submit to you Trayvon Martin, Eric Garner and Michael Brown. I submit to you hundreds of years of organized oppression that has embedded a flight or flight response into my DNA. A gift of sorts from the ancestors who could give nothing to their progeny other than their own pain.

Karen was genuinely scared of me but the gag is that my fear was not only greater than hers, but was also better substantiated. My crime is simply trying to protect myself from the Rona in my black hoodie and black mask and black skin. I mean … it’s not like I walked into the Michigan state capital armed with semi-automatic weapons screaming obscenities at our boys in blue who are only trying to keep all of “us” safe. That would be extreme.

But so is my black skin … and my black mask … and my black skin.

Say what you will about the coronavirus, but one thing Ms. Rona does not do is discriminate. She seems to be the only one …

Stay safe out there!

The Trendy One