Being Black: For the First Time
They didn't serve me. I'm still too hesitant, too fearful, to say that they wouldn't. Are there still places that resist blackness? So outwardly? So boldly? Seated in the back of the restaurant by the white hostess-all others seated in the front. All white customers on one end. Blacks in the back--the way back. Clarification-one black woman seated alone at a table against the very back wall..past the bar, past the stage, past dozens of open, empty tables. Black in the back. After ten slow minutes of isolated waiting, I decide it’s best to leave. Rather than allowing my rage and confusion to bubble over in this New Mexican restaurant, far from the safety and shelter of loved ones, I take my leave. I walk. I think. I find my words, but not my understanding. Does this feeling of displacement, rejection seem ever-present because I'm looking? Am I seeing it, feeling it because it's ever-present? Does my hyper-awareness effect my experience? My blackness is worn like