One beautiful Saturday
morning a family ventures out from pandemical isolation to the
Farmers’ Market. Kids, grandma, and cousins are all enjoying aguas
frescas. Suddenly a woman starts shouting at the family, “We
don’t want you N_____s here!” The beautiful day is worse than
ruined.
A
school board member tells me this happened to an LCPS program
director, whom I’ll call “Teacher.” I’m appalled. That it
happened, and that no one spoke up for the family.
A
walk is planned for the following Saturday, to express support for
the family and affirm that racism has no home here. Before the walk,
I question the vendors, from whom we buy fresh local food weekly.
None witnessed the attack. One, a conservative Korean War Vet, says
someone should have shot the hate-spewing woman. Another says, “I
did see a beautiful black family, kids and grandparents, maybe 15
people, having a great time.” (Later I learn that it happened a
little north and west of the Plaza, where vendors were very unlikely
to hear it.)
I
join the walk. Without publicity, we’re a good-sized group,
including U.S. Rep. Xochitl Torres-Small. I meet Teacher, her
mother, and her eldest daughter. She’s left her two youngest at
home, uncertain what might happen. This week, crafts vendors have
returned to Main Street. They and others are supportive, though
unaware of the previous Saturday’s incident.
Outside
City Hall, Teacher and some school board members speak. Teacher
truly teaches us, by the grace and directness with which she
describes the attack and expresses her appreciation of the support.
“I didn’t realize my Superintendent would be like a second
mother, calling to inquire about the kids.” Afterward I have the
pleasure of talking with Teacher awhile, and days later we discuss
the attack on radio.
The
walk is a little island of peace and sanity. The attack – coming
at a moment of joy and laughter, when the market must have seemed a
refuge – was a grim reminder that there is no refuge in the
U.S. if you are not white. The attacker didn’t permanently harm
Teacher, who recognizes that the attacker revealed more about herself
than about anyone else. Teacher’s mother, from Georgia, may have
experienced worse, and would have liked to leave that in the past.
The children are struggling with an ugly memory they’ll digest, and
learn from, in their own ways. (Some day, “n___” will be as
dusty an insult as “pleb” or “tsoulus.”)
Friends
and I discussed what to do in such a situation. Stand with the
family, absolutely. Some friends said ignore the attacker, don’t
make it worse. I might quietly ask the woman, “What’s so weak or
poisoned in your life that you have to take things out on strangers?”
She is simply so unable to handle her pain or problems that she’s
lashing out wildly at a family with more love, education, and class
than she could aspire to.
The
attacker has earned our hostility; what she did is despicable; but
her hatred is a poisoned cup she offered the family – who were wise
enough not to drink it. Hating poisons the hater. One might pity
her, but this old white guy shouldn’t advise anyone what to feel.
Although
we wish nothing had happened, this ugly incident inspired our
community to share its love and respect for Teacher and her wonderful
family, with hopes that this place can still feel like home to them.
Racism
has no place here. Racism has no place here.
– 30
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| "Uncertainty" (c) 2020 pgoodmanphotos |
[I know that the woman who shouted at the family is an outlier. The overwhelming trend of history is toward recognizing that we are one human race and come in all shades and a variety of ethnic groups. I truly believe that some day only historians will recognize "the N-word." That is so despite a brief wave of nativism and ethnic violence represented in the elections of folks such as Donald Trump and Narendra Modi and in Britain's "Brexit." However, vigilance is always wise. There are particular dangers present in the 2020 election.]
[Meanwhile I'm grateful to have met Teacher and her family, though I loathe the attack that sparked that meeting.]
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