Okay, I'm not foaming at the mouth today. Meditation, rum, and some pool time totally helped that, but I am still pretty pissed. I wrote a poem about it, but before I get to that I just have to share something I witnessed today. Today is my last day in the States before my big trip to Ghana, so Dad I ran some errands (after the pool) and decided to have lunch in the park.
This park is one of several parks in downtown Portland. As we drove by you could see it was packed with a mixed crowd, lots of street kids, but also families and tourists all making the most of the sun and water. We parked and took some Sandwiches to sit on the hill over looking the fountains. As we are actually experiencing a real summer for the first time in Portland and it is close to 100 degrees outside, everyone was in various states of undress sunning and splashing in the fountains, which are a collections of pools terraced in a waterfall formation in the center of the park. It smelled like sun screen and it was just one of those chill summer moments.
Then my attention was drawn by these two White street kids. I'm guessing they're street kids because no one else would be wearing that much clothing and carrying backpacks. It's too hot for that. Plus they seemed to be a part of the collective of teenagers hanging out on that side of the hill. They started to wrestle. At first it seemed aggressive but playful, but then it looked like things were escalating. A few punches were thrown and then they were on the ground.
"Where are the cops now?" I asked my Dad. "They can arrest a Black man in his own home, for doing nothing, but no friendly neighbors are calling to break up this damn fight."
Their friends pulled them apart, but as I watched the scene unfold I began to notice a subtle drama playing out in body language. There was this White girl in their group and she was crying and these other two girls were talking to her, then this Black guy with a mohawk came on the scene. They all seemed to know each other. At no point did I see him touch her, but I heard her clearly when she told her friend "That Nigger Hit me." To which he responded "Nigger, I'll show you Nigger!" He got in her face...though once again, he didn't actually touch her, and then the two White guys who just got done fighting each other jumped on him. Then they were all three fighting while she repeated several times "That nigger hit me." And miraculously the cops materialized. Amazing what happens when you see a Black face involved in an altercation. Suddenly it's no longer something harmless, but an issue of security. One of the kids signaled that the cops were coming and everyone quickly disengaged and walked away in different directions.
Dad and I decided it was time to head home, but as we passed we watched the cops talking to the Black kid and one of the White kids who had jumped on him (the other one had walked the other way and was long gone). It didn't end as badly as it could have, but I noticed that no one was saying shit to that girl who had called the guy a Nigger. I guess if you are a White woman and you're angry and run off at the mouth, it's not a police matter. But they say we live in a post-racial society. Right?
This poem is called:
To the White Supremacist Patriarchy...you are not absolved.
I don't care if Colin Powell says it's okay,
IT'S NOT OKAY.
You are NOT the good neighbor,
NOT the good citizen,
NOT the liberal, the friend,
the good Christian
you say you are
if you still can't see me
through your fears
if you can't come to me
without pretenses,
without the lie of separation,
if you can't look into my eyes
and see the pain, the betrayal, the anger,
and accept your part in it.
If you choose to let your guilt
blind you to my truth,
if you can't look into my eyes
and see your own reflection,
then we are both lost.
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