Yet Again, The White Hand of Dismissal Affects My Black Life
I’m not a conspiracy theorist but there is something to be said for the strategic placement of modern-day Karens in Black lives.
Yesterday, while on our way home, my wife and I made a quick stop at a “not so local” farm stand just north of Boston; a popular destination for the area’s affluent to congregate and suppress any impulse to express individuality.
Though we had previously visited this oasis of overpriced produce and suburbanite-approved lack of diversity, it had been a minute. On this day my wife was in a corn mood and, admittedly, this farm stand had the best around.
After all, who doesn’t love elote?!
Once inside, it didn’t take long for those familiar visions of being in an alternative universe to come rushing to the forefront of consciousness.
I have always been an observant person who enjoys capturing the world around me; watching the interaction (or non-interaction) of people as I move through a day.
Typically, when in large groups of white people, I scan the immediate area for “like melanin” folks, if for no other reason than for mild comfort — a piece of mind. A tactic cultivated years ago when I was young. Growing…
