There I was, standing and chatting with Ralina at the entrance of the bar. We were waiting for Jane to scope us out a table—the conference had just gotten out and the restaurant and bar were packed.
We stood there chatting about the wonderful dialogue we had created after our panel on Post-Black television. I was in my first and only three piece suit looking as dapper as I could. I had a red lanyard around my neck indicating I was a presenter at said conference.
As we were chatting, a slender and faint white woman approached me with a gaze in her eyes—she had clearly been drinking. As I glanced over to her, I could sense she wanted my attention. She began to talk in a loud voice, slightly slurring her speech and said with a French accent, “Excuse me, do we put our names on a list or do we just go seat ourselves.”
It took a few seconds for mento register what was happening. “Hey, wait, she thinks I work here!”
In that moment, Ralina reached across the conversation and grabed my red lanyard and says to the lady, “Ma’am, he doesn’t work here, he is a presenter.”
The white lady instantly got flush red. She then began to stutter as she continued to try and dig herself out of a hole. “Well, I thought you might know more than me. I am from Europe, and over there, we just go in and sit….”
When you find yourself in a hole, quit digging
She continued to ramble on but I casually turned my back to her and proceeded with the conversation I was previously having.
These types of mis-categorizations and microaggressions are nothing new. Blacks have often been seen as help and not the guests. Hell, President Obama has acknowledged as much. Not to mention white people blogging about their misunderstandings.
Yet, most people will find some excuse to let this poor white lady off. I am not personally attacking her moral character. I do not believe she consciously thought I was help and decided that I was just the right person to ask about a table.
I think of the comparison of racism as smog– something that we may or may not see, but we breathe it in all the same. Something that is toxic but that there is no getting around being saturated with its toxins.
I do not think this white lady intended to make me feel as though it was 1823. I do not think it was her intention to send me on a self-analysis that made me question who I was and my place in the United States or Academia.