“Was she black?”

Those words swirled in my head the entire shift. I thought I heard my coworker wrong. Why would she say that? I’m literally 6 feet away. I am African American. Black. Brown. A descendent of bronzed gold that has a heavy history of misfortune and tribulations. Meaning she wouldn’t make a comment like that if a Black person was around.

The conversation was about a washer and dryer set my store manager was contemplating purchasing from an online marketplace. The situation was clearly a scam waiting to happen reasonable price, meet at night but first send a deposit. An obvious scam that concerned the assistant manager which prompted my disbelief. “Was she black?”

Once again, I felt the occasional sense of discomfort from the occasional use of microaggressions that showed up several times a week at work. I couldn’t breathe. I tried to make sense of what I thought I heard. I listened for a response of yes or no, but it was unrelated. So maybe, she didn’t ask that. Or maybe my store manager realized how offensive her response was skipped over the question.

Now, my mind goes back to the other times I was a part of a conversation, heard words that didn’t feel right but couldn’t quite figure out if it was wrong or if I was overreacting. The time, the assistant manager and I were talking about our spouse’s musical professions. She brought up how her boyfriend wanted to get more into hip hop but hated what rappers talked about. The occasional melodies of drugs, murder, and sex which is heavily popular and pushed by top executives because “violence sells”. But wait, did I say that he created Hip Hop sounds? Or is it a given since we’re black, but I didn’t say that he was. Okay, I’m overreacting. It’s not a big deal.

Or what about the time, when I was told that the Asian customers usually don’t understand English and to click through the sales prompts for them. Or that it was the Hispanic customer’s fault that the assistant manager entered her address wrong so she’s the reason she never received her package because “she barely speaks English and it’s hard to understand her.”

Or what about the time, when a Black customer thought our oldest manager ignored her to help a white customer. Given the situation was a misunderstanding, I decided to bring it up to the store manager to help every customer feel welcomed and to avoid my coworker from getting her feelings hurt. Okay, I’ll let my manager know that they can find ways to NOT come across as avoiding customers by using constant communication or something. “People just look for a way to be negative.”

Her exact words. It’s negative to feel like you’re being judged? Or maybe due to Black history and current situations, Black people expect situations like this to happen so, any slight misunderstanding will come across as discrimination. Which I did say in a simpler way. She nodded but I knew she didn’t understand and never will. I was, even more, let down when the situation was brought to the older manager. There was the typical microinvalidation. “I’m not prejudiced. I don’t care if you’re red, orange, blue, etc.”

Then she proceeded to say at her former job, she was reported by several Black people because she “breathed heavily”. So, you came across as not liking Black people yet there were no measures in fixing your behavior to avoid coming across negatively. Okay.

That day created a painful insight for me. The world really is black and white. Our stories are different. Our history collides but is disparate. Our pain is at times similar, but roots are severely twisted. I thought I could use my voice to make a positive change in the world, but I can’t even change a retail store. I decided to speak up about a serious and passionate topic, but it was downplayed. It wasn’t serious to anyone but me. The Black experience is often overlooked simply because it’s not their story. It will never be their situation. They know nothing about it. After the second Black customer told me that she makes 6 figures a year and that she will not be back because of the same older manager racially profiling her, I decided to find an exit but then again, situations like these are everywhere.

Reminds me of playwright Charlayne Woodard speaking from her white husband who proclaimed his boss was a racist so he quit in which she replied if everyone quit because their boss was a racist no one would have a job. That’s hilarious but what kind of world is this to raise Black children. How can someone feel so comfortable with telling someone that their “big black friends” were going to act as a bodyguard to intimidate her old boyfriend?

We’re no longer human beings but dark barricades used for protecting damsels in distress. And now, I dig deeper. Was I hired to replace the former “problematic” Black worker that just moved? My interview was all over the place so am I a diversity hire? Are my yellow-brown skin and mellow vocal tone considered safe enough to work here? Am I the unintimidating safe Black? I hear microaggressions every week. Do I bring it up every time? Or would I come across as looking for something negative?

I felt defeated but looked around at the Black people and other minorities that are thriving in this world. They weren’t letting the world’s idea of them change how they felt about themselves in a negative way. They continued.

Maya’s words ring true for many.

You may write me down in history.

With your bitter, twisted lies.

You may trod me in the very dirt.

But still, like dust, I’ll rise.