They're Crawling Out of the Woodwork

My husband and I had a very unpleasant encounter on the bike path this morning. We live in a progressive suburban neighborhood north of Cambridge, so I do not often encounter overtly racist people.  We went for a walk and this older white lady who appeared to be in her 60's with a long blonde pony tail gave a me a hard stare and snarled at me "they're crawling out of the woodwork ." My husband was talking and didn't seem to notice. I nudged him and we both turned around to see her still staring hard at both of us, though we were now some distance apart.

Every time something like this happens, I never know how to react.  I was once called the n-word by contractors while supervising student workers on the job at Harvard. I floated into an altered state so that I could continue working, where I did not acknowledge the reality of what was happening, though I could see the upset reactions on my student workers faces, one of whom was Black, as they rushed to retrieve books from the stacks, and as I left for the day the reality of what happened hit me, and I knew I had a responsibility to report it.

I am aware that no matter what kind of person I am, or what I may have achieved as an individual, I will be perceived as an "other" first by entitled people with hatred in their hearts.  Out of the many news stories where Black people are targeted for hate and violence, the one that most deeply affected me was the massacre of Black people at they Tops Super Market in 2022. One of victims, Roberta Drury, looked a lot like me. Sometimes, just showing my face in public feels like an act of brazen resistance.

The voices that say we should just stop talking about how racism makes our reality different seem to be getting louder, like the push to remove critical race theory from schools, but silence just allows hatred and ignorance to grow stronger and fester in darkness.  There is a conservative push to change the narrative about slavery where rapists and pillagers who profited by exploitation of Black people are portrayed as astute business men whose victims are sub-human capital whose sacrifice was necessary for the survival of the economy.

Ironically, I fight a feeling shame for being targeted by racist people, when it's the people inflicting racial harm who should be ashamed.  We should be able to talk honestly and openly about our experiences and demand equality and respect. I am encouraged by the many warriors for justice of all races I have encountered over the years, and I am confident justice and love will prevail.