Chapter Two
“We’re here”, said the chauffer from the front seat.
Dr. Connor waited for the door to be opened, stepped out,
and was shocked to see a little old woman waiting for a taxi at the front of
the retirement home.
“Hello ma’am. Are you coming inside? We are giving flu shots
at the retirement home today…. It’s free”, he added after a long pause. She
simply stared at him.
“The word ‘free’ is not necessarily appealing to me because
it’s always a conditional statement,” she began, “and poor blacks end up with
the short end of the stick. What hurts black people is that they are always
looking for help from the government, and they are never looking towards one
another for assistance. I don’t trust the government. I had an uncle die after
the Tuskegee Syphilis Experiment, and his family members were given fifteen
thousand dollars in an out of court settlement. I ask you, how do you settle a
life? Around twenty years ago, I heard that they were testing lead paint on
children. Families were given food coupons and a free lawn if researchers were
allowed to till their lawn with a sludge that contained harmful ingredients.
This program was funded by the EPA and the United States Department of Housing
and Urban Development…”
At this moment, Malvin Landon Prince pulled up to the front
of the retirement home. He had arrived today to visit his grandmother, who was
nearing the end of her life. He was a young sociologist and he sat for a moment
in the parking lot to watch the confrontation between Dr. Connor and Rachel
Powers. Their body language displayed the expectancy of privilege and the
resistance of the oppressed. This doctor obviously thought that he could lure
Miss Powers into the retirement home, but he was unaware of how stubborn she is.
She had seen so much injustice in her lifetime, both the most blatant during
the Civil Rights Movement, and the much subtler that occurs presently. She was
standing up to him, her pencil waving in his face, “schooling him” on racial
injustice and oppression- though she never made it past the sixth grade. He
stood there nonchalantly. He was not intimidated, and did not seem phased.
Prince began to think, is this what is meant by reverse
racism? Or is this defensive racism? Is Miss Powers racist against whites, is
she too guarded, or does she initiate hate in defense of what she perceives
will be an injustice? And how has the mentality of the elders trickled down to
the youth. Why can black people say “nigga”, and whites can’t? Especially if
the word is meant as a salutation, or acknowledgement of brotherhood. Is it
defensive racism on both ends? When whites clutch their purse, isn’t it just a
reaction to what they believe could be a robbery? And when blacks seem
uncomfortable in a job interview, isn’t it because they believe that they will
once again be overlooked – “I think far too much. I’ve been reading too much
Sociology”.
He stepped out of the car, and kindly approached Miss Powers
in the middle of her lecture, “If ignorance is bliss than so is privilege. How
could you possibly understand our struggles in the comfort of your gated
community? I dare you to spend a night in the streets, I bet-”
“Hello, Miss Powers, is my grandmother doing any better?”
Usually Miss Powers hates being interrupted, but there was
something about Malvin that allows him to get away with it. He was charming,
witty, intelligent, sensitive and peaceful. He always seemed to be well
intentioned and always encouraged those around him to take the high road.
“She’s been doing
alright. Some day’s she’s better than on others. She’s been waiting for you. Go
on inside and see her”.
“Thank you. I’ll go inside and order her favorite tea. And
I’ll also help this gentleman. What’s your name? … Nice to meet you Dr. Connor,
my name is Malvin. I’ll show you around. Have a wonderful day Miss Powers”.
“Thanks for the help, you’re a life saver”, Dr. Connors
stated when they were out of earshot. “That was the last thing I expected
coming here”.
“Not a problem”, Malvin responded with a smile.
Malvin brought Dr. Connor into the lobby and ordered him a
coffee alongside the tea for his grandmother. On the nearby TV, the news showed
clips of Mandek Xavier. He was the young “radical” who had been sensationalized
on the media for the past few weeks.
“I say again, I’m not anti-Democrat, I’m not anti-Republican, I’m not anti-anything. I’m just questioning their sincerity, and some of the strategy that they’ve been using on our people by promising them promises that they don’t intend to keep… its time now for you and me to become more politically more mature and realize what the ballot is for; what we’re supposed to get when we cast a ballot; and that if we don’t cast a ballot, it’s going to end up in a situation where we’re going to have to cast a bullet. It’s either a ballot or a bullet …”
“- Well, I should get to work. I’m a few minutes behind and
I can’t stay too long watching this. It may make me feel guilty and oppressive
because I happen to be born in a wealthy family. My grandparents were born in
absolute poverty and they were able to pull themselves up. Now I have to hear
all of these excuses that life is so difficult. The truth is the government
doesn’t cause fathers to walk out on their children? The government doesn’t
stick the needle in your arm. And the government sure as hell doesn’t make you
drop out of school. Why were they able to pull themselves up, and why do they
now get shit for doing it?” Dr. Connor paused, and then composed himself.
“Sorry, for the rant, I should head to work. Good day. And thank you for the
coffee.”
… Is this the bliss of privilege, thought Malvin.
- K.S. Fort
From, "The Civilized N -"
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