I couldn’t believe it.

My exercise class — the place where the euphoria of exertion keeps me grinning as I sweat, and floating as I leave — became the site of what felt like a racial incident.

And as someone who writes about race, my experience made me question what exactly defines a “racial incident” versus a simple unpleasant situation with insensitive people.

As I huffed and puffed, I pondered, is a “racial incident” defined by the fact that the person who’s the target of negative language and actions appears to be a different race than the rest of the people in the room?

Or does a race word need to be spoken in order to empower the incident with all the socio-political weight of “racial”?

It’s all a matter of interpretation. And race is the most obvious distinction between us. So when something happens, it’s easy to accuse that the motivation was that one person has more or less of the stuff that divides and dominates our lives: pigment.

Before class, I experienced what many people of color feel when they’re in a room with Caucasions.

I felt invisible.

The three black women who were warming up before the instructor arrived spoke with each other as if I were not there.

People who think I’m too sensitive would say, “Oh, they already know each other and were just chit-chatting. Don’t take it personally!”

Fine.

Then came the instructor, whom I’ve known for years and love his hard-core teaching style. He has an insulting sort of humor that is playful and is meant to inspire us to exercise harder. But last night, another instructor joined the class, and my regular teacher was pointing out different students.

“Elizabeth, I hate her, man,” my teacher said with a playful smile at me.

The other guy — who was African American — turned to me, scanned my body with his eyes, and said, “I can see why.”

What, exactly, did he see about me that would inspire hate?

Now, if this were a room full of white people, who were focusing this dialogue and body language on a black person, it would reek of racism… rejection… rudeness.

“What did you mean by that?” I demanded of the new guy.

The black women who had ignored me at the beginning of class, now joined by several more women, whispered and snickered over my negative reaction to this guy’s insult.

“You don’t know me,” I said to the new guy. “That wasn’t nice!”

A woman in the back exclaimed, “It’s just a joke!”

I guarantee, if that joke had been on her, it would have been equally void of hilarity from her perspective.

My thoughts reeled… what is going on? Should I storm out? Is this a racially motivated situation? Was the guy just trying to go along with my instructor’s harsh humor? Is my pride in living in Detroit and feeling comfortable in all-black settings naive?

The jumble of questions fueled an intense workout, because I vented my annoyance into the exercise.

“Am I being too sensitive?” I wondered. “Do they all think I’m white?”

I silently forgave them for making me feel bad. I prayed that they would feel peace and love.

And I realized, whether an unpleasant experience is “a racial incident” — is open for interpretation.

Ask the people involved, and I’m sure they’d deny that my appearance had nothing to do with the experience.

Ironically, my new book OTHER PEOPLES SKIN, is an anthology of 4 stories written by four women who span the spectrum of skin color. I joined Tracy Price-Thompson of Hawaii, TaRessa Stovall of New Jersey, and Desiree Cooper of The Detroit Free Press and NPR — to write stories about black women who are dealing with the same things that I felt in my exercise class.

But our stories have much more dramatic and painful incidents that the women must overcome. And ultimately, our characters heal and find empowerment from their struggles. In “Take It Off!” I write about a biracial college student who has white skin and coarse hair that she hides under a hat. She is terrified of rejection by whites and criticism from blacks. In the end, though, she realizes that she can make positive change by using her dual heritage to fight racism on campus. She finds the strength to take off her hat, reveal herself, and empower others.

I, too, have that mission through my work as a journalist and author.

That’s why last night’s experience in exercise class was an excellent reminder that race and all its weighty implications permeate our every action.

We filter people, experiences and the world through racial lenses that are fogged, scratched and sullied by suspicion, hurt and fear.

Sometimes it feels as if those lenses might never get clean.

But we have to keep trying.

Posted: November 6th, 2007 under The Bliss Report.
Comments: 2