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When I first read this quote, I thought it was a good piece of advice, especially when you are in the middle of a heated discussion or argument with someone.  Once the words are out of your mouth, it’s impossible to pull them back.

There’s been quite a bit of “You’re not my sister,” and “I’m never going to play with you again,” going on lately between Mo and Co. I wanted to write about how we’ve been talking to the girls about hurtful words and kind words, about how they should think before they speak to us and to one another because disrespect won’t be tolerated.

Then I thought about how even though we drill these lessons into our children as they have been drilled into us, there are those among us who haven’t had the benefit.  I thought about the times when people have said unkind things to me or about me.  I’ve never been one for witty answers and snappy comebacks when faced with hurtful japes.   I’m totally unprepared to defend myself; I’m just so taken aback over what’s just transpired.  The older I get, the more baffled I am because I’m constantly left wondering, “Really? Why is this still happening?”

About a year or so ago, I was at a community service project with several members of my sorority. We were at an inner city elementary school, talking with at-risk children about fire safety.  As part of the program, the closest fire station to the school had promised to come by with a ladder truck for the kids to explore.  The several firefighters would be on hand to show the kids their equipment, answer questions about fire safety and talk about life as a fire fighter.  It promised to be a really good program.

The kids were attentive throughout the sorority demonstration about smoke alarms and how to find a central location for your family if your house caught on fire.  They started to get excited when the fire fighters came in to let us know they were all set up outside.  We all packed up our things and headed to the parking lot.  The kids raced ahead with a few of my sorority sisters, while several of us wrapped up our supplies and headed out.  One sorority sister, whom I’ll call M, fell in step with me as we walked towards the lot, amicably chatting about nothing.  As we approached the door, one of the firefighters, held the door open for us to pass through. I went first, saying “Thank you,” and then M followed behind me.  The young guy let the door close and jogged off to where the rest of his crew were standing.  Apropos of nothing, M says, “He probably held the door open for you because he thought you were white.”

What?

I can remember actually coming to a halt and turning to look at her because I couldn’t believe what I had heard.  I can’t tell if she was trying to be funny or if she was serious. Of course, there is truth in humor, so I’m sure it was a little of both.  Even now, I still wonder what made her think that what she said was alright or that it would be well received? My gut tells me, she wasn’t thinking since she said it in the first place.  I tried to follow her logic (if there was any to be had) and see it strictly in terms of Black and White:

 –> Black women at a predominantly Black school with a group of Black kids.
 –> Predominantly White, all male fire crew

I’m not connecting the dots here. How did she put it together that given these variables, an act of courtesy was done strictly because of. . .of what?  I don’t get it.

By the time I had processed what she had said, the fact that I heard it correctly and so forth, she was already talking with some other people and I was floundering for an appropriate response.  That response turned out to be no response at all.  I had nothing to say. In part, too much time had passed (in my opinion) between what she said and when I was ready to reply.  To walk up on her after the fact, now with an audience of other sorority members, and discuss it seemed like folly.  Could I have called her privately and talked about it? Sure. Did I want to? No, not really.  I mean, I was angry and I was hurt. But I realized, here is a woman who, must see me as a threat of some kind.  Why would I waste my time and energy trying to mollify her when she would rather make jabs are me? If I look at the big picture, how was I doing before I met this woman? How will I be doing if I were to just remove her from my social circle? Fine on both counts, let me tell you.

Many would argue that the above situation was a prime opportunity for me to stand up for myself or to make an insensitive clod aware that words can hurt.  I know that, but the paralysis that comes over me when something like that happens (and it has happened quite a bit) prevents me from doing so.  I’ve had people tell me that I need to be prepared, that I need to have a list of comebacks ready on my tongue. I can’t go through life with my guard up and a sharp word ready to loose all of the time. That’s tiring and impractical.  And just like when two kids are fighting, it’s always the kid who throws the second punch who gets caught. I don’t want to be the one made to look like a hysterical, can-take-a-joke, tight-ass.

No one likes being disrespected. How you choose to respond to it is up to you.  My experiences have taught me to really weigh my words before I speak. I don’t know what private battles someone is fighting daily, nor do they know mine.  We tell the girls to think before they speak, often times because they start launching into a story filled with, “uh, um. . .uh. .uh”.   Really though, it’s laying a foundation for being courteous and respectful to others.

I wish someone had done that for M.