Von

 

 

Yesterday (Sunday). The Costco parking lot. Early afternoon.

 

I was walking back to my car with a bag of hot wings and bourbon-glazed chicken bites.

There weren’t any spots close, so earlier I parked pretty far from the entrance.

As I neared my car, I came across an older white lady.
She was flanked by (I’m assuming) her two teenaged kids.
A young boy and girl.

Going in opposite directions, our paths crossed precisely as I reached my car and they were on their long walk to the entrance.

I went to put my key in the door and happened to notice that the lady had stopped dead in her tracks. She pulled out her car alarm remote as she walked back toward her car. I got behind the wheel of my own car in time to see her pressing her alarm remote in the direction of her car.

Frantically.

Now…I don’t know if she was really having trouble getting her alarm to work.

Or if her theatrics were supposed to be sending me a message.

After a couple seconds, I assume she was satisfied that her alarm was working properly and her car was safe and secure. She caught up with her kids and they went into Costco.

 

So, in summation, only after seeing me did ol’ girl feel it was necessary to activate her car alarm.

 

Someone told me a while ago not to sweat stuff that’s out of my control. So under that line of thinking, I shouldn’t have let what happened affect me. But I couldn’t shake it off. It stayed with me all day.

What that lady did…her actions were the nonverbal equivalent of calling me a nigger—to my face.

Am I overreacting? Am I wrong to be offended?
On the drive home I replayed the incident in my head and tried to give her the benefit of the doubt. How would I react if I were an older white suburban soccer mom in a Costco parking lot—and a big, bald, tattooed black man approached me? She probably watches the news and sees black folks actin’ a damn fool every night and saw me as one ”them,” in her quiet little suburb possibly about to engage in some thuggish shenanigans.

But c’mon.

 

In reality, I’d just finished shopping.
I was just trying to go home and enjoy the rest of my day.
And really, would I pay for a Costco membership, go shopping there, and then break in cars in the parking lot?

Does that make any sense at all?

 

 

Guess I’m spoiled.

‘Cause aside from occasionally being followed around Target, and having the sense that some of my newer colleagues may be afraid of me—I’m never really confronted with stuff like this.

So I guess I really shouldn’t trip. ‘Cause in reality, a lot worse has happened to folks in more random situations.

It ain’t like she Katherine Harris’d me (aka, disenfranchised my right to vote).

Somehow, I think my ancestors (who were enslaved, sprayed with water hoses, and had dogs sicced on ‘em so I can enjoy the privileges I have in 2008) would tell me to suck it up, rub some dirt on it, and stop actin’ like a baby.

In the grand scheme of things, what she did wasn’t really that big of a deal and I should really just let it go already.

 

 

 

So why am I still bothered by it?