I understand that I now have the reputation of being a bitter, angry person who just writes about people she doesn’t like. I’m old enough to know that what others think shouldn’t bother me. But I’m still human. Like I wrote when I began this journey – this is my story, within my limited perspective. This is my truth. The way you interpret my words is entirely up to you. I’m dealing with a certain multitude of things right now – we all have our stuff. Maybe I am just an angry person. Maybe these things I write about is why.
I was headed home from a long drive and not the greatest day. I was about ten minutes out of town when I came upon an older man on a dirt bike. He was going about fifteen miles under the speed limit. I slowed behind him. Soon a few other cars lined up behind me as well. I waited till the second pass zone to turn on my turn signal and began to pass him. When I got beside him he sped up to match my speed. I glanced in my mirrors and the line of cars had also sped up to the speed limit also planning to pass him so I couldn’t fall back. A camper then started heading my way, so to avoid a head on collision I sped expendentially and passed him. The man on the dirt bike began to ride my bumper and followed me into town after making a few choice gestures. My adrenaline was already kicked in. I took a few side roads in town and so did he, still tailgating. I eventually pulled into Charlie’s and parked, not wanting to go home and showing him where I lived. He came and parked right beside me. I didn’t get out and instead called my sister. I asked if she wanted anything to eat but she could sense something was not right. I could see the man standing with his arms crossed staring at me. I thought it might be best to go into the restaurant because it’s a public place. I quickly got out of the car and he started shouting at me and walking towards me. I got back into my car and locked my door. He began to knock on my window and calling me an “ignorant nigger bitch.” I turned on my vehicle and pulled away and drove around for about 20 minutes. When I was sure he was no longer following me I went home, ran inside my house and locked the door.I fell apart.
I am not an angry person. But my reaction to having to deal with situations like these is that of anger. And it does, by the way, infuriate me. I am angry that an asshole on a dirt bike made me afraid to go home. I am angry at the two other people in the Charlie’s parking lot who watched this happen and did nothing. I am angry that I couldn’t find the words to explain to my loving amazing white parents why I felt uncomfortable calling 911 and/or the cops. I am angry that though my friends can empathize, (And they are wonderful), that they cannot truly understand what it’s like to always having to prove my side of the story and have to have a reason for it not to be okay to have a stranger to act aggressively towards me. I am angry that people complain to me “why does it always have to be about race ” when yes – it is about race – but I didn’t bring it there but apparently I must be at fault for that as well . This is not an isolated incident. This is not unique to just me. This is a problem and if you personally have never experienced something like this, please understand that that is your privilege and that privilege is not an excuse to not care. Please understand that belittling or shaming a reaction does not erase the wrongdoing.
Another Angry Black Woman