I’m not trying to diminish the factor of race in this story or the humiliation the white family meant to perpetrate on you but my own experience is that white people can treat their own family members with disdain and contempt too, for decades, but do so far more subtly and consistently so that it’s difficult to identify it for what it is—abuse, inhumane. I’m 61 and just now coming to terms with how my father taught my younger brother to have contempt for me and how he in turn is teaching one of his children to have contempt for me as well. It’s insidious. I wish I knew how to make it stop. For the betterment of all of us.
My immediate thought with the woman who didn't have the courtesy to thank your friend was she may well be socially awkward or on the spectrum and didn't know how to respond. The very kindness may have caused enough anxiety to lead to the blank look and strange response.
However, the swimming pool scene was very clearly racism and disgusting. I've always wondered if I would do the right thing in such a situation but have never been tested. Kudos to you for reacting in the best possible manner.
I read the coffee shop story and while it certainly could have been about race, you have to take gender into account too, and the practice of men buying drinks for women as a come-on
I honestly didn’t think the coffee incident was about race. It did, however, cause me to remember my experience which was, especially given the time when it happened, definitely about race. I guess you could say it triggered me. As far as the “come-on” aspect of your point, maybe? But if that was indeed what they thought, then why accept it the free coffee? It’s like when a guy (or gal) sends a someone a drink in a bar; if there’s no interest, then you don’t accept, right?
Yes! We had to stop in many towns in the general area, but TBH, we were all over the place: Oxford, Tupelo, Tunica, Meridian—wherever there were Black-owned funeral homes.
White indoctrination is generational. A Klan-type member in my biological family tried everything to make me in into his alt-right image. It should be illegal to indoctrinate children with hatred for others. It's a pathological, remnant of transnational human trafficking. So is the electoral college.
I’d like to think the kid has internalized the kindness and life you gave him. But his parents were there to wipe it out maybe. Still a fact is a fact. Wishing that kid would appear here to thank you now.
That's a touching story, on many levels. And I agree with you on the through-line.
It's sad that we live in a world so run-through with distrust that in many places and contexts, any affirmative contacts from a stranger can be perceived as threatening, no matter how kind, or simple, or friendly, or even life-saving.
As a large, bearded, now-older man, living in an urban environment, I have become accustomed to staying in my lane and minding my business, knowing that the discomfort people may feel from my speaking up or trying to be friendly may precisely counteract the intended positivity. I'm pretty sure that more times than not, an attempt to pay a coffee forward would end the way that other writer's did. Instead, I end up trying to move slowly and quietly, one more isolated being in the quiet stream.
And that's before you add in racism. I'm perceived that way as a White guy -- I have to imagine the extra levels if I were Black. Then add a different place, or a different time, or a different circumstance. (The racism in your story is its own story. And you were young then. Then multiply that by the number of trips you've had around the sun, I imagine ....)
Your tale reminds me of one of my own. For a couple of years after college, I lived 3 or 4 miles outside of town, off of a winding country road. One night, I was on my way home between 1 and 2 am, and it was sub-freezing, with about a foot of snow on the ground, and still more coming down. (In a region where freezing temps and snow weren't that common.) As I rounded a turn, I saw a young woman walking on the side of the road, toward town. This was a road that never had pedestrians, she had miles to go to get anywhere, and her coat was just a lightweight army canvas coat, with her head half-shaved and no hat. (A punk rock look; this was the 80s.) I turned the car around, stopped next to her in the road, and offered her a ride to wherever she was going. She thought about it, stepped around the car and got in, and asked quietly, "you're not going to rape me, are you?"
It broke my heart that she had to worry about that -- but of course she had to worry about it. (And I was a longhair with a beard at the time, so even though any man could be a threat, I looked worse, I'm sure.) I tried to kindly reassure her, and may have even showed her my i.d., just as something that a predator probably wouldn't do. And then made the gentlest of small talk while she made herself as small and distant as she could at the other end of the very wide bench seat (in my bigass 70s American 4-door).
When I dropped her off in town I was happy to have gotten her there warmly and safely. But I felt like shit about the world we live in, that she had to live her life thinking like prey.
Back to normal, memories flowed out of my mind too. By 16, we were living in the city and I was taking busses between school, work and home. During any time off I could manage, I took a bus or train, then backpacked into wild country. Once you get out of cities, getting around without a car is next to impossible, so I did what we always did before we moved to the city... I hitchhiked.
And then I got stupid. I was back in the city and waiting for the bus, when I stuck out my stupid thumb. A man in a big car stopped and I jumped in. He asked me where I was going and I told him. Just a couple miles later, he turned the opposite direction. I said, you can let me out here, and I'll catch the next bus, but he kept driving, and driving and slowing down to avoid stopping at lights, then driving on. Of course, everybody heard scary hitchhiking stories around the campfire, but.... I was young and stupid and never thought it could happen to me, until it did. I put my hand on the door handle and the driver said, open that door and I'll floor this car. I was seriously frightened, but he slowed down and started talking.
He told me he had daughters my age and when he saw me hitchhiking he thought of them.
Hitchhiking is dangerous, he said very sternly, then reminded me, that I didn't know anything about him when I got in my car. Are you scared he asked, and I nodded my terrified head yes. Good, that's what I wanted. I wanted to scare you enough, to stop you from hitchhiking again and then he pulled over, stopped and told me to get out of his car.
I walked, five miles or more before I found a bus stop and got back on track. Suffice to say, I never hitchhiked in the city again. Eventually, I stopped hitchhiking in the country too. I've always figured that man was some kind of angel, who stopped by, to keep me safe and on track.
What a wonderful story and how true it is . So sorry for what happened to you. Being kind does not cost a person anything and it can change a persons day.
I’m not trying to diminish the factor of race in this story or the humiliation the white family meant to perpetrate on you but my own experience is that white people can treat their own family members with disdain and contempt too, for decades, but do so far more subtly and consistently so that it’s difficult to identify it for what it is—abuse, inhumane. I’m 61 and just now coming to terms with how my father taught my younger brother to have contempt for me and how he in turn is teaching one of his children to have contempt for me as well. It’s insidious. I wish I knew how to make it stop. For the betterment of all of us.
Hard to hear, but in no way surprising for anyone who grew up at that time. Would it be different now? Maybe, sometimes. I hope so.
Beautifully told, by the way:)
Thank you!
In the South of 1976, a Black man saved a child’s life—and what happened next speaks volumes about the times, and maybe even about today.
My immediate thought with the woman who didn't have the courtesy to thank your friend was she may well be socially awkward or on the spectrum and didn't know how to respond. The very kindness may have caused enough anxiety to lead to the blank look and strange response.
However, the swimming pool scene was very clearly racism and disgusting. I've always wondered if I would do the right thing in such a situation but have never been tested. Kudos to you for reacting in the best possible manner.
I read the coffee shop story and while it certainly could have been about race, you have to take gender into account too, and the practice of men buying drinks for women as a come-on
I honestly didn’t think the coffee incident was about race. It did, however, cause me to remember my experience which was, especially given the time when it happened, definitely about race. I guess you could say it triggered me. As far as the “come-on” aspect of your point, maybe? But if that was indeed what they thought, then why accept it the free coffee? It’s like when a guy (or gal) sends a someone a drink in a bar; if there’s no interest, then you don’t accept, right?
Did you ever enjoy driving the Natchez Trace back in the 70s? It was slower but very senic way to go with a bucket of Minnie Pearls....
Yes! We had to stop in many towns in the general area, but TBH, we were all over the place: Oxford, Tupelo, Tunica, Meridian—wherever there were Black-owned funeral homes.
I was raised in Starkville, (MSU), left in '77 via USAF. Must of been fun for you to vacation while your dad worked.
White indoctrination is generational. A Klan-type member in my biological family tried everything to make me in into his alt-right image. It should be illegal to indoctrinate children with hatred for others. It's a pathological, remnant of transnational human trafficking. So is the electoral college.
I’d like to think the kid has internalized the kindness and life you gave him. But his parents were there to wipe it out maybe. Still a fact is a fact. Wishing that kid would appear here to thank you now.
I’m sorry that happened to you.
That's a touching story, on many levels. And I agree with you on the through-line.
It's sad that we live in a world so run-through with distrust that in many places and contexts, any affirmative contacts from a stranger can be perceived as threatening, no matter how kind, or simple, or friendly, or even life-saving.
As a large, bearded, now-older man, living in an urban environment, I have become accustomed to staying in my lane and minding my business, knowing that the discomfort people may feel from my speaking up or trying to be friendly may precisely counteract the intended positivity. I'm pretty sure that more times than not, an attempt to pay a coffee forward would end the way that other writer's did. Instead, I end up trying to move slowly and quietly, one more isolated being in the quiet stream.
And that's before you add in racism. I'm perceived that way as a White guy -- I have to imagine the extra levels if I were Black. Then add a different place, or a different time, or a different circumstance. (The racism in your story is its own story. And you were young then. Then multiply that by the number of trips you've had around the sun, I imagine ....)
Your tale reminds me of one of my own. For a couple of years after college, I lived 3 or 4 miles outside of town, off of a winding country road. One night, I was on my way home between 1 and 2 am, and it was sub-freezing, with about a foot of snow on the ground, and still more coming down. (In a region where freezing temps and snow weren't that common.) As I rounded a turn, I saw a young woman walking on the side of the road, toward town. This was a road that never had pedestrians, she had miles to go to get anywhere, and her coat was just a lightweight army canvas coat, with her head half-shaved and no hat. (A punk rock look; this was the 80s.) I turned the car around, stopped next to her in the road, and offered her a ride to wherever she was going. She thought about it, stepped around the car and got in, and asked quietly, "you're not going to rape me, are you?"
It broke my heart that she had to worry about that -- but of course she had to worry about it. (And I was a longhair with a beard at the time, so even though any man could be a threat, I looked worse, I'm sure.) I tried to kindly reassure her, and may have even showed her my i.d., just as something that a predator probably wouldn't do. And then made the gentlest of small talk while she made herself as small and distant as she could at the other end of the very wide bench seat (in my bigass 70s American 4-door).
When I dropped her off in town I was happy to have gotten her there warmly and safely. But I felt like shit about the world we live in, that she had to live her life thinking like prey.
Back to normal, memories flowed out of my mind too. By 16, we were living in the city and I was taking busses between school, work and home. During any time off I could manage, I took a bus or train, then backpacked into wild country. Once you get out of cities, getting around without a car is next to impossible, so I did what we always did before we moved to the city... I hitchhiked.
And then I got stupid. I was back in the city and waiting for the bus, when I stuck out my stupid thumb. A man in a big car stopped and I jumped in. He asked me where I was going and I told him. Just a couple miles later, he turned the opposite direction. I said, you can let me out here, and I'll catch the next bus, but he kept driving, and driving and slowing down to avoid stopping at lights, then driving on. Of course, everybody heard scary hitchhiking stories around the campfire, but.... I was young and stupid and never thought it could happen to me, until it did. I put my hand on the door handle and the driver said, open that door and I'll floor this car. I was seriously frightened, but he slowed down and started talking.
He told me he had daughters my age and when he saw me hitchhiking he thought of them.
Hitchhiking is dangerous, he said very sternly, then reminded me, that I didn't know anything about him when I got in my car. Are you scared he asked, and I nodded my terrified head yes. Good, that's what I wanted. I wanted to scare you enough, to stop you from hitchhiking again and then he pulled over, stopped and told me to get out of his car.
I walked, five miles or more before I found a bus stop and got back on track. Suffice to say, I never hitchhiked in the city again. Eventually, I stopped hitchhiking in the country too. I've always figured that man was some kind of angel, who stopped by, to keep me safe and on track.
Wow. That's pretty frightening.
I'm glad you were able to see it that way. He doesn't strike me as an angel. He strikes me as a dick.
What a wonderful story and how true it is . So sorry for what happened to you. Being kind does not cost a person anything and it can change a persons day.
At this time of forgiveness and thanksgiving - for some people at least - this is a thoughtful story to hear.
Sometimes it's hard to believe how crass some people can be. :-/
Or how racist. That sadly ends up not being so hard to believe. Though it should be.
It's good for the rest of us to be reminded. Of what that's like for every individual who goes through it personally. Without having signed up for it.
Marlon, I'm sorry that happened to you.
And gratitude is humbling and arises from an open heart. Fear can obstruct that, sadly.