The Racism Doesn’t Stop, Even When You’re Learning to Drive
People constantly question your abilities when you are black
I learned how to drive later on in life. With the excellent public transportation system here in Geneva, Switzerland, I didn’t really need a driver’s license. When I got pregnant, I decided it might be useful to get my license so as not to haul around a pram on public transportation day in day out. Driving lessons being extremely expensive in Switzerland, my husband and I agreed that I would take a few lessons with a certified instructor and then practice with him. It seemed like a good plan until my first class.
The instructor came to pick me up. He had an arrogant and aloof air about him. He was an older gentleman with cold, piercing, sky-blue eyes, a plentiful salt, and pepper colored mane, and an overly tanned complexion. He quickly explained a few things and set me up in the driver’s seat. I was nervous — the whole idea of driving a stick shift vehicle for the first time was daunting. I managed to pull out of the parking spot and we were soon on our way.
“The most important thing is not to panic”, he said.
I proceeded, following his instructions to the letter. We drove into the countryside, down narrow tree-lined roads, and mesmerizing landscapes dotted with…
