I have debated on whether or not to share this. I finally landed with the decision that (hopefully) the benefit will outweigh (or at least overshadow) the risk. I trust that my words will lead you to know that I speak from a place of love and and solidarity. I pray that when my non-white sisters and brothers read this they do not receive a message that seems to say, "See, it happens to me too." Because it doesn't. This is only my interpretation of a set of events followed by my connection to the world around me. This is me fitting a certain set of events into a reality that people of color face regularly and more often to a higher degree.
This is my story of empathy.
My family and I live on the outskirts of Baltimore. This particular part of the country..the DMV...is a beautiful place. Sure.. there is beautiful history and monuments and architecture and harbors. But the beauty that I am speaking of is the people. If ever there was a "melting pot" I have arrived. Cultural differences with beautiful languages (and accents), beautiful shades of skin tones, and children everywhere playing alongside one another despite race, ability, class, or language differences. It is beautiful friends. With this beauty of a diverse population, I sometimes forget that anyone would ever use their race to get ahead or keep others out. But I don't have to look far to be reminded of this. This is where my recent experience helped me to understand, in a very watered down way, what it feels like to be on the other side of white privilege.
My family and I decided to eat at a local and very popular restaurant after church one Sunday. When you have three kids, chances are you check wait times BEFORE unloading your crew. Norman drops me off curbside so that I can check the wait before we commit to unloading everyone. As I walk in I notice the patio is open for seating with available tables, there are very few (maybe 3) families waiting to be seated, and there are some tables open past the hostess stand inside. I think to myself that we might just get lucky today. I approach the hostess table with a smile and friendly greeting.
Me: I have 4 plus a highchair, so 5 total.
Hostess: Do you have reservations?
Me: No, I'm sorry I didn't know we needed them.
Hostess: Oh, you don't HAVE to have them, but 5 is considered a large party. And we won't have anything for over an hour.
Me: (imagining 3 hangry kids in my van) Oh, no thanks. We will just come back another time.
I walk back to the van and signal a big "thumbs down" across the parking lot to Norman. As I hop in the van I can see confusion on Norman's face, so I quickly explain that the wait is over an hour. I also share my frustration with the fact that 5 is now considered a large party (I am sure there is a good reason I do not know about.). Well, Norman cannot fathom there is not a table available or, at the least, a shorter wait time. I challenge him to go see for himself and he takes me up on it. In 3 minutes max, Norman walks back out and tells me to find a parking spot; they have a table ready for us. We walk in the restaurant as a family and past the hostess stand to a BOOTH. A BOOTH! The most coveted seat in the whole darn place. Y'all, I had so many feels...shock, anger, disappointment...and even hurt. Then it hits me...Norman and the hostess have only 1 thing in common.
Friends, I will end the story here. The food was delicious and the service was wonderful. I shared this story to open the door to a bigger conversation. I am not sharing this experience for you to cover your mouth or shake your head or tie-dye your Team Mahala t-shirt. That is not the point. I also know that a lot of other variables could lead this story in a lot of other directions. Maybe it wasn't race...maybe it was gender, age, etc. Still, that is not the point.
My point in this story is that one was kept out while another was put ahead. The point here is that for the first time I GOT IT. It was the closest I will ever get to sitting on the other side of the table (no pun intended). I felt what it must be like to get dismissed for (what feels like) the color of my skin. And this was a silly seat in a restaurant. You know what wasn't a silly seat in a restaurant?
I cannot FATHOM how this would feel if it were my career, my children, my education, or my ability to participate in society the way the majority does. And that...MY LACK OF UNDERSTANDING IS WHITE PRIVILEGE. Sure, I can brush it off and move on about my business because chances are it will never happen like that again. Or I can push it away because it's not a "big deal" in the big picture. But what if this was how my world operated regularly? How would I feel and how would that change me? The next thing I want to do is to demand change and march forward hand in hand with all of you. Unfortunately I know this system has been in place for more years than not. It is big and ugly and I must teach my children to navigate as I learn how to navigate myself. I have a circle of responsibility and I can focus on that for a start. It is time we recognize that IT DOES HAPPEN. And the first and possibly most important step for whites is to recognize it; we must work to tune our eyes, ears, and heart to see it, hear it, and feel it.
This is my story of empathy.
My family and I live on the outskirts of Baltimore. This particular part of the country..the DMV...is a beautiful place. Sure.. there is beautiful history and monuments and architecture and harbors. But the beauty that I am speaking of is the people. If ever there was a "melting pot" I have arrived. Cultural differences with beautiful languages (and accents), beautiful shades of skin tones, and children everywhere playing alongside one another despite race, ability, class, or language differences. It is beautiful friends. With this beauty of a diverse population, I sometimes forget that anyone would ever use their race to get ahead or keep others out. But I don't have to look far to be reminded of this. This is where my recent experience helped me to understand, in a very watered down way, what it feels like to be on the other side of white privilege.
My family and I decided to eat at a local and very popular restaurant after church one Sunday. When you have three kids, chances are you check wait times BEFORE unloading your crew. Norman drops me off curbside so that I can check the wait before we commit to unloading everyone. As I walk in I notice the patio is open for seating with available tables, there are very few (maybe 3) families waiting to be seated, and there are some tables open past the hostess stand inside. I think to myself that we might just get lucky today. I approach the hostess table with a smile and friendly greeting.
Me: I have 4 plus a highchair, so 5 total.
Hostess: Do you have reservations?
Me: No, I'm sorry I didn't know we needed them.
Hostess: Oh, you don't HAVE to have them, but 5 is considered a large party. And we won't have anything for over an hour.
Me: (imagining 3 hangry kids in my van) Oh, no thanks. We will just come back another time.
I walk back to the van and signal a big "thumbs down" across the parking lot to Norman. As I hop in the van I can see confusion on Norman's face, so I quickly explain that the wait is over an hour. I also share my frustration with the fact that 5 is now considered a large party (I am sure there is a good reason I do not know about.). Well, Norman cannot fathom there is not a table available or, at the least, a shorter wait time. I challenge him to go see for himself and he takes me up on it. In 3 minutes max, Norman walks back out and tells me to find a parking spot; they have a table ready for us. We walk in the restaurant as a family and past the hostess stand to a BOOTH. A BOOTH! The most coveted seat in the whole darn place. Y'all, I had so many feels...shock, anger, disappointment...and even hurt. Then it hits me...Norman and the hostess have only 1 thing in common.
Friends, I will end the story here. The food was delicious and the service was wonderful. I shared this story to open the door to a bigger conversation. I am not sharing this experience for you to cover your mouth or shake your head or tie-dye your Team Mahala t-shirt. That is not the point. I also know that a lot of other variables could lead this story in a lot of other directions. Maybe it wasn't race...maybe it was gender, age, etc. Still, that is not the point.
My point in this story is that one was kept out while another was put ahead. The point here is that for the first time I GOT IT. It was the closest I will ever get to sitting on the other side of the table (no pun intended). I felt what it must be like to get dismissed for (what feels like) the color of my skin. And this was a silly seat in a restaurant. You know what wasn't a silly seat in a restaurant?
THIS.
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| link to pic here AND THIS |
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| link to pic here |
I cannot FATHOM how this would feel if it were my career, my children, my education, or my ability to participate in society the way the majority does. And that...MY LACK OF UNDERSTANDING IS WHITE PRIVILEGE. Sure, I can brush it off and move on about my business because chances are it will never happen like that again. Or I can push it away because it's not a "big deal" in the big picture. But what if this was how my world operated regularly? How would I feel and how would that change me? The next thing I want to do is to demand change and march forward hand in hand with all of you. Unfortunately I know this system has been in place for more years than not. It is big and ugly and I must teach my children to navigate as I learn how to navigate myself. I have a circle of responsibility and I can focus on that for a start. It is time we recognize that IT DOES HAPPEN. And the first and possibly most important step for whites is to recognize it; we must work to tune our eyes, ears, and heart to see it, hear it, and feel it.
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