Color Me Love
She sat on the steps of an old office building with her head bowed low. Long, dingy brown hair covered her face like a lion's mane. Since I'm the friendly sort, I inquired what had happened.
She glared at me with a face full of raw anger. I didn't yield. With eyes red from crying, tight lips, and sarcastic, she spit out at me. "A black woman called me a redneck, a low-life honky, and trailer trash. When I called her a nigger, I got fired!"
Tears from her angry brown eyes burst like a dam. Understanding her pain, laced with confusion, I could not hold back my heart, and the truth revealed itself.
I said, "You have been discriminated against without due process. Go back in, make them clear up this mess, or pay for causing you such duress".
She was so rushed that I couldn't catch her name, but I saw my hypocrisy and shame within my words.
On my way to the Grand Canyon, I saw a vendor selling flags on the side of the road as I passed through Alabama. Rebel Flags of every size fluttered in the wind. My first thought was that this is a very prejudiced person. Then, as I got closer, I saw the vendor had posted, in giant letters, "Selling History Not Hatred." I laughed until I cried.
How often have I waved an African Flag, not to mention the flag of the Northern states symbolizing the end of slavery? What must others have thought of me? Yes, in a way, I was selling something, too. It might not have been hatred, but it was indifference.
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These days, I have a whole different outlook. Whenever I see a Rebel flag displayed, I no longer see instant hatred. I leave individual feelings up to the person waving the flag. I discovered that I must be careful of what I think I see because it could be a mirror image of me.
In the old days, people called color evoked value and beauty. Black suggested evil. Afro-Americans implied aristocratic behavior. Then there's me, the one some call Nigger - evoking hatred towards those not given this name because it's a label of slavery and shame, exclusion of people they say have no name.
If I had a choice on how you see me, color me any shade that evokes love.
Wrapped up in this thing called humanity, I sit down where the nameless woman had been. My long, artificial cornrow braids fell around my face like a lion's mane. When someone stopped to inquire, I took the time to share my name.
Together, we discovered that being in awe of a thing makes one speechless. The truth scares one into silence. Understanding creates communication, which breeds commonalities, and with that, we each create ourselves by what we allow to influence us.
That day, I met a friend and colored her with shades of love.
? ljm 11/19/2001
A Traveler
8 个月To the person who sent me a message titled “Wake up,” I won’t link your name, but I will do what you didn’t have the courage to do: I will respond publically, Yes, being called a “Nigger” by a White person can be termed as “racism”; however, these two women were calling each other names, and for one to be fired went against the law. Due Process, as it relates to job discrimination, applies to everyone, regardless of skin color; as colored folks, we know about being fired without Due Process! The boss should have sat these women down and allowed them to work it out; this should have been a “warning” and a reminder to respect each other. If he was going to fire one to make himself look good, he should have fired both! Just my opinion.