Standing at the Crossroads

On the way home from my vacation last week to Bellingham, Washington, I was waiting at the Seattle-Tacoma International Airport for my flight back to Sacramento, California. A white woman sat next to me and checked her phone. Shortly thereafter, she poked me in my left arm with her right elbow.

"Ow!" I said loudly.

She got up and walked away without uttering an apology.

Granted, what she did wasn't a hate crime. But I couldn't help but wonder if she would have been contrite had I been white.

Although I have friends and family of different races, I've learned to keep my distance from strangers and acquaintances I've perceived to be racist. I've had the "N" word hurled at me several times in my life, and I've called the person on using the epithet. But, for the most part, I've kept my distance, and those who don't like people of color or other faiths have stayed away from me.

I predict I will have an encounter with racists sooner rather than later.

On August 17, I plan to attend a candlelight vigil in Fairfield addressing the violence after a white supremacist march August 11 and 12 in Charlottesville, Virginia. I will stand quietly with my candle and not call anyone names or start fights. I will do my best to keep out of harm's way. But I feel I must make my presence known.

Now that the 45th President of the United States has blamed both white supremacist marchers and what he calls "alt-left" (There is no such thing!) counterprotesters for the violence that resulted in the death of a local woman and injuries to 19 other people, I'm more on guard. I concluded that he was racist when he announced his candidacy by labeling undocumented Mexican immigrants as "killers" and "rapists." I was appalled when he was elected. (No, I refuse to use his name.)

Today's entry isn't long. Just know this: I'm woke, and I'm done.

Writing Diva