There is something that Black guys and crazy people have in common. No, not the police, you racist ass. There’s a situation I encounter most times I go walking around. I live in West Hollywood where I have been told that I am the 0.8% Black that occupies this city. This something is a natural part of life that happens to all of us. Walking behind someone.
Now this may sound odd to some of you. “What’s so bad about walking behind someone?” Glad you asked. I like walking. I don’t drive so my legs look awesome and I could kick a hole in a wall if I felt like it. But sometimes I get behind someone and you could cut the tension with a knife.
In fantasy land I have a conversation with these people. I’ll be walking behind them and they know a big Black dude is nearby and they stop and check their shoes, look at themselves in the nearest reflective surface, or inspect that spectacular crack on the ground.
“Excuse me. Uh, excuse me. Could I walk past you? I know you’re scared of me. I haven’t done anything to you and I don’t plan on it. I’ve never been in jail and haven’t committed any crimes. But I know that you are now watching your money and clutching your purse extra tight. I just need to get where I’m going without worrying about you getting crazy and using pepper spray on me. So if you don’t mind, just let me go by and you can continue about your day with your passive racism. Cool?”
Of course this will never happen.
Rockets.
1 comment:
It isn't your race, it's your trenchcoat :P
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