Racism Refuses to Die Because White People Refuse to Let It

Keni James, 21, holds up her fists as she and others block streets in downtown Los Angeles to protest the killing of George Floyd by police in Minneapolis. (Jason Armond / Los Angeles Times)

It's feeling a bit more racist. As I sit here trying to not be consumed with the electoral college coverage, I'm writing this. These are mixed feelings. The number of voters who came out is encouraging. The fact that I find myself in a Blue state is encouraging but what does it all mean? 

As a Black Queer person, that is the lens I have to see the world. COVID-19 has caused our Governor to mandate masks. The current dictator in office has pushed for segregation, dehumanization and a call to arms against anyone who stands against him, specifically Black, Indigenous, Latino and Hispanic communities. People who identify with the LGBTQIA plus community are also targeted, as hate has been encouraged from the top. This hate isn't new or unheard of but the brazen outright push and enthusiastic response to it, is something I thought I would not continue to see in my lifetime, especially when I was raising two Afro-Latino sons of my own. 

Yesterday, after spending hours staring at my computer, preparing for our end of semester mock trail, I decided to take a break and drop a loaf bread my kiddos had baked to my mom. On our way out the door my son's optometrist called and said his glasses were ready to be picked up. So, we swung by Costco on our way home. It started with the greeter at the door letting in two people without showing their membership cards. Literally, the optical center is maybe six feet away from the entrance so my son and I start walking towards it. Dude calls after me and asks, "are you with someone?" Confused I asked, "do you need to see my card?" He says "yes." I stand there for at least three minutes digging through my wallet and show it to him. For context, we are at the optical section a total of 6 minutes. In that time white people enter Costco, some showing their cards, some not. None of them are called back. 

As part of being cultured as a woman/girl you are taught to smile. Wearing a mask with a bold African print on, I smile. Even though my teeth are hidden, my eyes reflect the reflexive friendly response. One I cannot control. One which may have saved my life in the past. The smile that says neither my Blackness, Queerness or gender make me a threat of violence or a victim. None of these white people smile back, instead they clench their bags, scowl or glare. 

If you know me, then you know that I have rarely gone out since March. My kid's only contact outside of our home, is their grandparents. They keep up with a few friends on the phone or through video games but they only visit their grandparents. Staying in, having things delivered or doing pick up is how we have been living as my dad is in his 70s and my mom has other high risk factors. If you have seen me recently, it is through a computer screen. So, I imagine this racism has been going on long before Election Day introduced the possibility of the loss of an openly racist president. 

Wearing masks as a person of color or a male person of color has a scary connotation. Masks on these particular faces has long been associated with predators, criminals- a stereotype of what racists already associated with us. It's as though they already assumed the only reason they would encounter us was as a servant or as someone who was committing a crime. Seeing half of our faces covered only solidifies that particular racist thought which then leads to the perceived validity of their other racist thoughts. I live in a Blue state but I'm still terrified to leave my house and only part of that is due to a communicative disease, (which is killing more people of color overall but that's something we already got into on the podcast). 

Racism is still here. I want to be clear, I live in a Blue state with a Governor who mandated masks and enforced a lockdown- saving lives of New Mexicans but it is still a state that leads the nation when it comes to police murdering civilians. We have such a long way to go, and we won't get there until white people stop seeing BIPOC as threats. We will not reach equality until we have applied equity. We will not all have the same quality of life and even life expectancy until we are all viewed as human beings. This is literally the bare minimum. One of the movements that embodies these qualities, is Black Lives Matter. Those words show how little we are asking. And yet it has led to counter protests and police officers demanding we be quiet through tear gas, arrests, beatings and now that is symbolized in the caravans of trucks in front of polling stations. 

Last week, I was in line at the pharmacy and two older white people were ahead of me. We are each standing on our squares, staying 6 feet apart, wearing our masks. They each separately turned and looked at me. I'm wearing the same African print mask, sportin the same gorgeous blond faux locs and as I smiled, they each separately glared and scowled behind their masks. Their eyes very clearly saying, we don't want you here. What do I do with that? I was in no physical danger but the microaggression, the reminder that many still see me as, well what? As other? As undeserving? As an outsider? As a nigger? 

I'm tired. I'm beyond tired. I'm annoyed that once again I am writing about race. That even though the world will be forever changed due to a pandemic, I am still writing about race in a pandemic. I'm tired that this election's pivotal issue is race like every election before it. I tired I am still talking about race when the evidence of how this social construct has solidified how we function as a society. I am tired we all pretend that white people have no idea what they have done to us. How have white people never stopped to wonder, why they find themselves in all white spaces? Did they really never question that? Or do they and then accept the lie that us colored folks just didn't want to be admitted? I'm tired that my grandmother had to tell my mother how to arm herself against racists, that my mom had to do the same with me and that I am now doing this with my boys. Because nothing has changed. 

My family has always lived in Blue states and we still aren't free. We are always forced to be ready. Ready to run. Ready to fight. Ready to accept that we do not hold the power to feel safe calling the police when we are victimized. I'm tired and as I sit waiting to see how this election shakes out, part of me is hopeless because what will it take for our country to change? My ancestors have been waiting for generations. I know why we march, I'm wondering why aren't more of you?