Lost in Thought: My Bout with Racism and How I Know I Can Do Better
Black lives matter to me and they always have, but I know I can do better.
I should start by saying that I am privileged despite being a minority in several ways. Despite being an immigrant from the Dominican Republic, I am privileged. Despite having a mixed race family of all shades, I am privileged. Despite having African blood running through my veins, I am privileged. Despite being gay, I am privileged. It all boils down to the colour of my skin and although I have seen racism glare its ugly head at me a handful of times throughout my life, I didn’t have it bad at all. I never felt unsafe or worried or treated differently because of the colour of my skin.
However, I have one very memorable bout with racism in my 20’s, which I feel is important to share because it has given me a lot to reflect on lately.
In my 20’s I was pretty shy when it came to approaching someone in a romantic way. One night when I went to a bar with friends, I vowed to myself: “Today, I am going to step out of my comfort zone. Today, I am going to initiate a conversation with someone”. Later that evening, when I saw someone who I thought seemed nice, I mustered up the courage and went up to him.
This is your moment Luis.
No need to be shy.
What’s the worst that can happen?
I went up to him and introduced myself. Before I could say anything else, he replied with “Sorry, I’m not into black dudes”. Those six words landed like blows to my stomach, I was at a loss for words and felt like I’d been knocked to the ground. You know that feeling when you got really hurt as a kid and everything almost goes silent and the colors become muted? That’s how I felt. It was horrible. I walked away. The worst part is that I only responded with “OK”. I was prepared for rejection, but not because of race. Of course, later that night I reenacted a hundred ways of how I would have responded, some just down right evil, some with a little more class and dignity.
A few weeks later, word started to spread within a few circles of friends that eventually got to him. Although this was prior to the social media shaming we see today, this guy was getting lots of flak for what he had done. Not long after that, he came up to me and apologized profusely. I could see the fear in his eyes, but I couldn’t tell if he knew how hurt he had made me. Instead of letting my rage get the best of me, I took it as an opportunity to teach him. To explain to him how terrible and hurtful his actions were and how there are a million other ways that he could have rejected me including “Sorry, you’re not my type”. I’d like to think (or at least I hope) that something clicked for him or at least a seed for change was planted.
The point of this story is not to make myself appear as the victim. I am not a victim. The point I want to make is that one night, many years ago, I experienced only a dusting of what many other black men and women experience every single day. For that second when I was rejected because of my race, I felt terrible. I felt insignificant. I felt invisible. Yet for many, this is an everyday norm.
To all of my non-black friends and peers, I encourage you to listen, learn, and most importantly, speak up. I will be doing the same. I am ashamed to say that I have overheard one too many inappropriate conversations throughout my life where I kept silent. I am done with this. But more than that, I want you to be proactive and inclusive, when you’re working, hiring, volunteering, buying, socializing, dating and even loving.
