A transit racism field report:
EMPTY SEAT EFFECT
So I take the bus to work every other morning. Usually if I’m early the bus is nice and peaceful and I’m the only person on it save the driver. We even chat sometimes. But then sometimes when I’m “late” (on time) it’s packed and musty with foggy windows and filled with people with gruesome injuries going to the hospital, people with mental disorders going to the hospital, and homeless people. It’s crazy.
Two days ago I was running a bit late but was able to get on right before the rush. There were a few empty seats, although I knew that would change at the stop before the hospital. So I sat and waited.
We got to the stop and the RUSH started. Seats started filling up and eventually it was packed. People standing up and everything. Then I realized that I still had an empty seat beside me. I even beckoned an old Asian lady to take the seat but she declined. Even the homeless person with the Santa Claus beard had a person sitting beside him. Then I realized what had happened.
Ayo Ada Omewere Aina Ojo Aleko Ogolo (yes go on then, I am an African Princess - My official royal title should be Lady!
I had a conversation with a facebook pagee, who mocking laughed at the Sit Next to a Black Person Month bloglet. On account of it wanting to make people think about how they interact with Black people, using a denial tactic at first and then having to admit that whilst he lived in a Borough that was predominantly Black that there was racism - I think I have done my job! Lol
Yeah, the denial is strong in some folks. It’s right up there with “I don’t see color” How the hell? That’s why we have to approach these things with a lotta patience, a lotta deep breaths, and a lotta laughs, cuz racism is too serious to take too serious.
This is awesome! Black People in Aspen. Or at least one. I wonder does he have a seat beside him on the ski lift? #sitnexttoablackperson
But then I noticed that I started slipping into a pattern when I got on a train. First I’d look for an empty seat next to a white woman. And then next to a white man. And then a black woman, and the, last choice, a black man.
And sometimes, if the only empty seats were next to black men and if they were wearing big puffy coats, then I would just stand.)
From Rebecca Claire Gilman’s Spinning into Butter: a play in two acts.
Racism? Protecting her safety? Allergies to puffy coats?
