La Petite Histoire de mon Rendu Compte*

I am away at a conference. Mid day yesterday I stood outside the hotel waiting for my lunch companions. A patrol car pulled up, and two women jumped out along with the officer. The women were conference goers, too. I knew from their bright, new conference totes. They posed in front of the cruiser, and the officer took their picture. The hotel’s shuttle driver came out, saw them, and asked, all smiles and laughter, if they’d been arrested. More smiles and laughter as they explained how they’d gotten lost and the officer had found them on some who-knows-where road and brought them back safe and sound. He was, apparently, “just so nice, sweet as he could be.” Everyone laughed some more. The officer posed for a selfie with the ladies and left. The driver waved and left. The ladies went into the hotel.

It was a cute scene. A funny scene. But I felt some kind of way watching it. Yes, here is where I say that everyone in that scene was white. Here is where I say that where I am for this conference is pretty white. And all of that is fine. So entirely fine.

But here is also where I say that, when I imagined myself lost on some who-knows-where road in this town, when I imagined a police car pulling up to me as I tried to find my way back to my hotel, I could only imagine Marlene Pinnock, could only imagine a scary, violent plot line for my story. No smiles and laughter, no poses in front of the cruiser, no selfies with the hero officer.

I’m willing to believe I would have had the exact same experience with that officer that I witnessed. I’m willing to believe I would have walked back into the hotel with a funny story to tell my friends. I’m willing to believe that because why not think the best of people. I’m willing to believe it because … oh my God how much do I want to believe that.

But how many times, just in 2015 alone, has a should-have-been-harmless encounter between a police officer and a Black person ended with that Black person’s death?

And that’s what I thought about as I watched that scene play out. I thought it when the officer stepped out of the car and gave me a careful once-over before turning to smile at his smiling passengers. I thought it as the women passed me to enter the hotel and didn’t respond to my smile and nod but shifted away slightly and took themselves inside. I thought it as the officer drove off, giving me another long look as he passed.

I was once rescued from a broken elevator by two police officers. This was back in the 80s, back in the bad old days of my life in an apartment building that attracted a lot of police attention. Those officers were surely in the building because of the crack factory in 1F and just happened to hear my cries from down the shaft. I was so happy to hear their voices as they talked crazy-claustrophobic me back to calm, so happy to see them when they finally got me free. There were smiles and even some laughter.

There are a lot of things I think of when I think of white privilege. A LOT of things. Yesterday it just slapped me hard, the freedom those women have to feel safe and at ease with that officer because they know he’s going to serve and protect them, and it would never occur to them that he wouldn’t because they are good people, nice people, law-abiding people, and of course he would drive them back to their hotel.

And I am a good person, a nice person, a law-abiding person. And that officer might have driven me back to my hotel, too, even without my shiny conference tote bag marking me as a sanctioned stranger to his town. He might have. But I no longer have the privilege of believing that without a second thought, of being able to take my safety with him for granted.

_____

It’s probably a given that I would return to this blog on a Slice of Life Tuesday.
Please check out the slices other folks are serving up over at Two Writing Teachers!

SOL image 2014

__________

* I know it should be be “réalisation,” but I’ve always just liked “rendu compte” better. And, too, there’s no excuse for making the title French. But that’s how it came into my head when I finished writing and needed a title. Which is random and strange, but I generally like random and strange, so I went with it. (Désole de ne pas désole.)

Advertisements

8 thoughts on “La Petite Histoire de mon Rendu Compte*

  1. oh, how I wish your return to your blog and Slice of Life were not this story of life on the outside of white privilege. I wish that police officer and those conference goers had not given you the fish eye. You have enough burden in your life right now that you don’t need or deserve this psychic weight.

    Like

    1. Thanks, Sonia. I wish the same thing … but at the same time, I’m a little bit glad. I was beginning to think I’d silenced myself for so long I wouldn’t be able to say what I wanted to say. I’m glad to find that’s not true.

      Like

  2. This was a very thought-provoking and inspiring blog. Inspiring because you had the courage to write it in a place where everybody is usually sharing good, “safe” stories, for the most part. I believe everything you said because of the way you wrote it. It has the ring of truth…every word. Just know that it’s not just African Americans who can feel this way in a white world. Having taught many diverse minority students, I know they, too, feel like outsiders and not always safe. I’m sorry anyone has to feel that way.

    Like

    1. Thank you. I will say, however, that I think I’m a bit notorious for sharing difficult stories on SOL day! 🙂

      And yes, there are plenty of the “majority minority” who experience what I’ve described here. I, too, am sorry for the truth of that and will keep pushing back against it. Thanks a lot for reading and commenting. I appreciate it.

      Like

  3. I’m glad you shared this writing with our writing community. It’s something all of us need to read. It’s terrible that you cannot take your security for granted when it situations like this.

    We need to do better as a society. (Talk about an understatement.)

    Like

    1. Thanks, Stacey. I sometimes pause before posting some stories on TWT … but then I remember that the community you’ve created is a safe space for me. Thank you for all these years of hosting it, nurturing it, growing it!

      Like

Your turn ...

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s