It was supposed to be a weekend of unadulterated joy and celebration. My husband and I were in Washington, D.C., for our son’s commencement ceremony at Howard University. What began as a seemingly trivial brush-up quickly spiraled into a jarring confrontation fueled by racist animosity steeped in American culture. Could it have been a grumpy old woman pissed at the world? Possibly. But a lifetime of wondering, “Is it because I’m Black?” leaves me to ponder the current state of race relations in America.
As I navigated a throng of people exiting a bus, I accidentally brushed past someone. Then, like a punch to the gut, I heard:
“F&*$ you, bitch!”
I paused with disbelief. Were those words coming from the woman I’d just passed? As I turned, she stood glaring directly at me.
“What did you say to me?” I asked, slowly walking toward her. Her response was defiant: “Well, you bumped into me!” as if that justified her spewing vile expletives over an everyday, accidental occurrence. I firmly pronounced, “I said excuse me,” because I had. A lady who witnessed the incident rushed forward to defend me, blurting, “She said, ‘Excuse me.’ I heard her!” This lady was at least six feet away. If she heard me, then I knew this person heard it.
Still, the woman persisted, claiming, “Well, you almost knocked me down.” I hadn’t. It was a mere brush-up. At my husband’s urging, I turned to walk away. Seething. Many response scenarios raced through my mind, but I tried hard not to make the situation worse.
As I wrestled with the raw anger of the incident, it instantly triggered memories of past, overtly racist encounters that I had come to believe were largely confined to history. I remembered being called the n-word by a carload of white boys while riding my bike on the streets of Cleveland, OH. The words “n-word go home!” were boldly spray-painted in black on our white “Black House” on Baldwin-Wallace College’s campus near Cleveland. Members of a white fraternity in the dorm next to mine hung Black Barbie dolls out their windows with a string tied around their necks. Those blatant racist acts happened over 40 years ago.
Beyond the personal insult, this encounter served as a stark, painful reminder of the ongoing challenges in American race relations. Research shows that individuals often mirror their leaders’ behavior, a phenomenon termed “social learning.” Leaders often set the tone and create the culture for the organization and the people they lead. Since he first took office in 2016, a Pew Research Study shows that 60% of Americans say President Trump’s election has led to worse U.S. race relations. When a leader openly espouses racist attitudes and rhetoric-questioning whether his Vice President opponent is Indian or Black, calling Mexican immigrants “rapists,” or declaring that Haitian immigrants eat cats and dogs– their faithful followers have little reason to dispute them.
Furthermore, when Trump signed an executive order to dismantle diversity, equity, and inclusion programs, citing that beneficiaries were hired only because of their race and not for their knowledge, education, or expertise, his followers have justification to form negative attitudes. This environment emboldens individuals to act on prejudices they might otherwise have kept hidden.
I experienced life after the Civil Rights Acts and Affirmative Action of the 1960s. Like many Americans, I learned through books, documentaries, and family stories of historical atrocities like water hoses and dogs being released on peaceful demonstrators. I absorbed the civil rights efforts of prominent leaders. As a teen and young adult, I participated in marches for equality, but thankfully, there were never any blatant, violent acts directed at us. I remembered Rodney King’s memorable words from 1992, “Can we all just get along,” uttered during the LA Riots that erupted after the acquittal of four police officers who brutally beat him. His plea resonated then, and it echoes now with an unnerving urgency.
After my anger subsided, I began to feel a profound disappointment. I believed our country had moved beyond the divisive acts that former generations experienced. I’m not naïve; I believe some of the more covert racist acts that continued showed up as being passed over for a job (or not being hired in the first place). When my family moved into our neighborhood in the late 90s, we witnessed white flight once again. This time, I was old enough to understand.
This blatant incident in D.C., on what should have been a purely joyful occasion, resurrected a persistent, painful question rooted in America’s racist history: “Did that happen because I’m Black?” It is a question that, for too many of us, still demands an answer in a nation that grapples with its racial past and present, a nation where the simple act of brushing into someone can unveil the unsettling truth of how far we still must go.