sometimes i forget the color of my skin. i forget that i stand out, that i look very different. but then i'll look down and see how pale my arm is compared with everyone else's arms, because in uganda, pretty much everyone is black- everyone. somehow i don't feel uncomfortable even though people stare at me, and shout 'muzungu'. somehow i feel like i'm one of them.
except when driving. there is definitely a difference in who gets pulled over. muzungu's. i think especially muzungu women. it's now been 4 times. the legitimate time i was overtaking on a solid line, the crazy time for a "u-turn", once for 'i just wanted to check your car' what?? and once with mike for having the wrong type of insurance sticker (still not sure that is legit- since he couldn't have seen that from far off). so now i am extra careful on the road-which is good- but i'm also really nervous whenever i see a policeman- i almost feel inappropriately guilty-just because and i get shifty eyed- do i smile at them? do i make eye contact? do i absolutely look the other way? which seems more innocent? i imagine this must similar to how an african american man feels in my country if he's in a nice neighborhood wearing a hoodie. that he might get pulled over for anything- or worse for nothing.
i'm going to share a story that usually resides somewhere in the 'hidden' section of my brain- the 'blocked' area- the 'no-need-to-go-back-there' section. one cold wet slippery fall night in boston, when driving back from my chemistry class, i hit a pedestrian. well he may have hit me- i'm not sure- but he was the one who got hurt. he was an older irish drunk guy who stumbled out of a bar and right into the street where i was driving. i slammed on my breaks but it was too late. i'll never forget that "thump" and then him rolling over my car and landing on the road. i was 23 and was pretty sure my life was over. for a second i thought i'd killed him. the guy behind me pulled over and called 911- maybe several people did- it was a blur. there was an ambulance there in a second (i think it had happened right next to the fire station). i was in shock. this nice guy who pulled over was doing his best to comfort me and reassure me that the pedestrian was conscious and talking and not at all dead. i was still sure that i was going to jail. no- he said- i saw the whole thing- there was nothing you could have done. this kind man happened to be african american.
in the middle of all this- people began pouring out of the irish pub to see what was happening. half of them were this pedestrians irish brothers. they took a look at their brother being loaded into an ambulance, then at me and this black dude and they put it together just as they wanted to. they blamed it on him. the cop who came to the scene was also irish, (nothing against the irish- i promise), and he began to question this guy who was helping me. i jumped up and explained that i was the driver of the car that hit the man. i explained that this guy had stopped to help. they wouldn't listen. then, even the cop, told me i shouldn't cover for this guy- who was clearly driving my car when it happened.
i couldn't believe it. right before my eyes- i was about to be exonerated for something i had done, and it was about to be blamed on this innocent man because he was a black man and i was white woman. i was furious and rapidly came out of my state of shock, grabbed the insurance papers from my car- and my liscence to make the case- re-explained that i'd never met this man before in my life so why would he be driving my car (i'm actually surprised they didn't turn it into a car-jack story too). after it was clear that i did infact own the guilty car and was the driver- i thanked the gentleman accused for stopping to help and apologized-- for my race, for the strife between the irish and the african americans in boston, for the absolute injustice in life- well- i wanted to anyway.
it was eye opening. it was deeply disappointing. prejudice is real. real and scary.
now i'm the minority. i can't blend in. and as much as i hate getting pulled over so often- i am thankful for the experience of knowing a little of what it feels like to be on the other side. because it messes with your head. in my car, when i see a policeman i feel nervous and insecure but also angry. i feel both 'less-than' and a righteous indignation that leaves me feeling 'more than'. i feel a victim of authority and a lack of respect for the one in authority. it's complicated.
so i'm a muzungu in a land of beautiful darker skin. a land filled with beautiful people inside and out. people who 99.9% of whom have made me feel so welcome. people who have helped me feel so comfortable- even in my own pale skin.
"Injustice anywhere is a threat to justice everywhere." MLK jr.
except when driving. there is definitely a difference in who gets pulled over. muzungu's. i think especially muzungu women. it's now been 4 times. the legitimate time i was overtaking on a solid line, the crazy time for a "u-turn", once for 'i just wanted to check your car' what?? and once with mike for having the wrong type of insurance sticker (still not sure that is legit- since he couldn't have seen that from far off). so now i am extra careful on the road-which is good- but i'm also really nervous whenever i see a policeman- i almost feel inappropriately guilty-just because and i get shifty eyed- do i smile at them? do i make eye contact? do i absolutely look the other way? which seems more innocent? i imagine this must similar to how an african american man feels in my country if he's in a nice neighborhood wearing a hoodie. that he might get pulled over for anything- or worse for nothing.
i'm going to share a story that usually resides somewhere in the 'hidden' section of my brain- the 'blocked' area- the 'no-need-to-go-back-there' section. one cold wet slippery fall night in boston, when driving back from my chemistry class, i hit a pedestrian. well he may have hit me- i'm not sure- but he was the one who got hurt. he was an older irish drunk guy who stumbled out of a bar and right into the street where i was driving. i slammed on my breaks but it was too late. i'll never forget that "thump" and then him rolling over my car and landing on the road. i was 23 and was pretty sure my life was over. for a second i thought i'd killed him. the guy behind me pulled over and called 911- maybe several people did- it was a blur. there was an ambulance there in a second (i think it had happened right next to the fire station). i was in shock. this nice guy who pulled over was doing his best to comfort me and reassure me that the pedestrian was conscious and talking and not at all dead. i was still sure that i was going to jail. no- he said- i saw the whole thing- there was nothing you could have done. this kind man happened to be african american.
in the middle of all this- people began pouring out of the irish pub to see what was happening. half of them were this pedestrians irish brothers. they took a look at their brother being loaded into an ambulance, then at me and this black dude and they put it together just as they wanted to. they blamed it on him. the cop who came to the scene was also irish, (nothing against the irish- i promise), and he began to question this guy who was helping me. i jumped up and explained that i was the driver of the car that hit the man. i explained that this guy had stopped to help. they wouldn't listen. then, even the cop, told me i shouldn't cover for this guy- who was clearly driving my car when it happened.
i couldn't believe it. right before my eyes- i was about to be exonerated for something i had done, and it was about to be blamed on this innocent man because he was a black man and i was white woman. i was furious and rapidly came out of my state of shock, grabbed the insurance papers from my car- and my liscence to make the case- re-explained that i'd never met this man before in my life so why would he be driving my car (i'm actually surprised they didn't turn it into a car-jack story too). after it was clear that i did infact own the guilty car and was the driver- i thanked the gentleman accused for stopping to help and apologized-- for my race, for the strife between the irish and the african americans in boston, for the absolute injustice in life- well- i wanted to anyway.
it was eye opening. it was deeply disappointing. prejudice is real. real and scary.
now i'm the minority. i can't blend in. and as much as i hate getting pulled over so often- i am thankful for the experience of knowing a little of what it feels like to be on the other side. because it messes with your head. in my car, when i see a policeman i feel nervous and insecure but also angry. i feel both 'less-than' and a righteous indignation that leaves me feeling 'more than'. i feel a victim of authority and a lack of respect for the one in authority. it's complicated.
so i'm a muzungu in a land of beautiful darker skin. a land filled with beautiful people inside and out. people who 99.9% of whom have made me feel so welcome. people who have helped me feel so comfortable- even in my own pale skin.
"Let us all hope that the dark clouds of racial prejudice will soon pass away and the deep fog of misunderstanding will be lifted from our fear-drenched communities, and in some not too distant tomorrow the radiant stars of love and brotherhood will shine over our great nation with all their scintillating beauty."
MARTIN LUTHER KING, JR., Letter from a Birmingham Jail, 1963
"Injustice anywhere is a threat to justice everywhere." MLK jr.
1 comment:
Now that was deep. You are something special, girl. I appreciate you sharing this.
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