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Living Every Day While Black

1 — Driving.

2 — Moving into an apartment.

3 — Walking.

4 — Going into YOUR apartment building.

5 — Looking for your keys outside of YOUR apartment building.

6 — Shopping.

7 — Check into an Air B&B.

8 — Sit in a Starbucks, waiting for a business associate.

Oh, so now we can add number 9 —

“Sleeping While Black” to the list of things we can’t do without having the cops being called.

Yesterday I saw the story on the news about a Black, female GRAD STUDENT AT YALE who had the cops called on her by another student, who was then caught by someone’s smart phone and then the video was sent out into the world, going viral. Of course I instantly cringed and thought, “AMERICAN BUSINESS AS USUAL” because it happens every day, all day, in the lives of Black folks. I’m in my ‘50s and can say with conviction that this has happened to me at least twice a year since I was a teenager. Cops got called, or security was called, while I’m shopping or eating, walking down the street, or parking somewhere.

Remember in 2013 when Oprah was in Switzerland for Tina Turner’s wedding, and she was shopping, and the following happened?

“I go into a store and say to the woman, ‘Excuse me, may I see that bag over your head?’ and she says to me ‘No, it’s too expensive.’”

Winfrey says she asked again to see the bag — a $38,000 crocodile skin number by Tom Ford — and the woman again refused, saying, “No no no, you don’t want to see that one, you want to see this one, because that one will cost too much and you will not be able to afford that.”

Yeah, that. That shit has happened to me too, but in Bergdorf Goodman while I was perfume shopping.

As I read the story about this woman trying to take a fucking nap at Yale, in a space she paid to be in, I thought about the CONSTANT harassment and humiliation my family endured in the ‘70s and ‘80s when I was growing up in Allentown, PA — where we were always followed by security, stopped by cops (“Is that YOUR car?”), the usual bullshit. But one day, while shopping in the Whitehall Mall, my mother had enough of the fuckery, and taught the good people of Sears and Roebuck a lesson they’d never forget.

It was probably a Saturday afternoon because we had a lot of things to do, and mom wanted to do some “one stop shopping” for time management reasons, so we went to Sears. Remember those days? A real DEPARTMENT STORE! You could buy underwear, a wrench, a potted cactus, a diamond tennis bracelet, and a tape recorder and be on your merry way in short order, instead of driving around to 25 individual stores…SO CONVENIENT!

So there we were — mom, me (at 13) and my little sister Addye (at 8), one cart, and a list of things to get. While we made our way around from department to department, I noticed a 20-something white guy loosely following us. Every time I turned toward him, he quickly looked away. I knew the deal, because it happened ALL OF THE TIME. After the third strike, I told my mom what was going on, and she stopped, bent down to look my sister and I in our faces, and whispered, “It’s time to start the parade!”

“Start the parade.” That was code for, “Let’s wander around for a bit and see how many security guards we can get to follow us.” It was a game we played 99% of the times we went shopping…or anywhere for that matter. Mom didn’t want us to be scared of security. We wandered around the sporting goods section, pretending to look for a catcher’s mitt for my father. Each of us picked things up, looked at them, and then put them back, like we were browsing. After about 5 minutes, I spotted two more white guys, they were both older than the first guy. Then another. And another. In no time flat, there were 4 of them. Mom got really pissed, because she realized we had to leave soon.

We walked to the kids section and she picked up some t-shirts, then walked us to the dressing room, where the 4 men sauntered behind us, pretending to be shopping. While in the dressing room, she whispered to us, “Okay, we’re going to have a BIG parade today before we leave. Crystal — get another cart and come back, you sister and I will wait here. So I walked around and got another cart that was near a cash register, all eyes on me, then went back to meet them.

“Okay — A.J., walk with your sister, both of you follow me…and while you’re walking, PICK UP AT LEAST TWO OF ANYTHING and put it in the cart!”

My sister started to giggle, “Mom, how are we gonna get all of the stuff home?”

“Don’t worry, just grab a lot of stuff, I don’t care what it is.” She winked at both of us, and then we walked down the aisle nearest to the dressing rooms and began to fill the carts. “Make sure you pretend to look at it and be interested in it before you put it in your cart!” My sister and I gave her a thumbs-up and off we went.

We snaked around the women’s department, tools, housewares, electronics, shoes, men’s, kids, jewelry, handbags & accessories — picking things up, looking them over, and then plopping it in the cart. We did it slowly and methodically, all while noticing the parade we started was all of a sudden 10 men long! About 15 minutes later, both carts were overflowing with all kinds of stuff — a toaster oven, sneakers, whiffle ball bat, a dog’s chew toy, curtains, a wallet…you name it, we had at least two of it! Mom said, “Okay, lets go to the cash register!” We walked to the closest one — it was in the housewares department. She pushed her cart up, and A.J. and I followed behind her. Two shopping carts that were just OVERFLOWING with EVERYTHING.

The clerk looked like Ron Howard, a really nervous and scared Ron Howard. His eyes got HUGE when he saw the carts.

“Uh, ummm, errr, you wanna buy all of this stuff?”

“Ring it up junior.”

“Uh, I’m gonna need some help…”

“Do what you need to junior, but I’m in a hurry so don’t lollygag!”

The kid picks up the intercom and calls for reinforcements. I see the parade start to dissolve and walkie-talkies come out of thin air. The men start to circle around the area like a wagon train. I held my sister’s hand. We looked at each other and giggled.

Three women walk over, and they look gobsmacked. The manager (I could tell by her name tag) looks at the carts, looks at my mother, looks at scared Ron Howard, looks back at mom.

“Excuse me m’aaam…are you getting ALL of these items?”

“I told the kid I’m in a hurry. We have to pick up my husband at the Country Club.”

She let out a loud sigh, and waved the two women over. They formed an assembly line — two of the women took the stuff out of the cart, found the tags, and then handed the items to scared Ron Howard. The third woman bagged everything. It was HYSTERICAL! They all looked like they were gonna turn inside out. The three of us just stood there with our arms folded, looking at them. Mom and I kept turning around to look at the security guards, as they walked closer and closer to us. The cash register “click click click clack clack…DING! Click click click clack…DING! It was humming like a beehive, arms flying, bags crinkling, it was better than Lucy & Ethel in the candy assembly line!

About 20 minutes later, there were a few more items left, (“M’aaaam — do you need a bag for the toaster oven?”) they were almost finished and looked REALLY annoyed. The three of us just standing there, our arms still folded, like we were inspecting everything, and smiling. Mom reaches over to the chewing gum display on the counter and picks up a pack of Juicy Fruit — ”Hey, can you ring this before you finish?” Scared Ron Howard puts out his hand, which I’m sure was throbbing from all of the button pushing on the register, and mom dropped the pack into his palm. He rang it up, put it on the counter, looked at my mom, and went back to ringing up the last three things. She picked it up, glared at him, opened it and gave my sister and I a piece, then she took one. We’re all standing there, smacking and cracking the gum.

“Okay m’aaaaam, the TOTAL is…”

“You got the gum?”

“YES, the gum was rung up.”

“Oh, okay…what were you saying?”

M’aaaaam, the TOTAL IS…”

“Oh wait. ‘Ya know what? I changed my mind…I just want the gum.”

A.J. and I coughed and almost spit out our gum. I looked at mom and smiled.

“WHAAAAAT?!?” All of their voices exclaimed in unison. I could hear muffled squawking on the walkie-talkies.

“Yeah, I only want the gum. There won’t be room for my husband’s golf clubs in the trunk. So return everything but the gum, because as you can see, I already opened it, so it can’t be returned…but the other stuff can be.” She smirked as she cracked her gum.

You could have knocked them all over with a feather — eyes bulged out, exasperated huffs of breath, beyond confused looks…and two of the security guards walked up to my mother.

“Look lady, uh, you can’t do that.”

“Do what…change my mind? Oh sure — I do that ALL of the time. Hey junior, how much for the gum?”

One of the men got on his walkie-talkie, then three more men walked over. We were surrounded by about 10 security guards. Mom asked again, “HOW MUCH FOR THE GUM? I AM IN A HURRY!”

The clerks, the security guys, they all looked at each other in total disbelief, and sorta shrugged. There was nothing they could do, they couldn’t FORCE my mother to buy anything. She smiled broadly. They all looked PISSED.

“Okay, now LISTEN UP!”

She looked up at the security camera above the register and pointed at it.

“I have been shopping here for YEARS, and EVERY DAMNED TIME I COME IN HERE, YOU START FOLLOWING ME…well THAT ENDS TODAY, RIGHT NOW, DO YOU HEAR ME?!?”

She looked at the guards and clerks, right finger pointed at them as she swept her arm down the line of them.

“From NOW ON, WHENEVER I COME IN HERE, YOU HAD BETTER NOT FOLLOW ME AROUND LIKE I’M A DAMNED CRIMINAL! My husband and I have SPENT THOUSANDS OF DOLLARS IN HERE, and we HAVE NEVER STOLEN ANYTHING! You WILL NOT TREAT MY DAUGHTERS LIKE CRIMINALS, NONE OF US…EVER AGAIN! And let me tell you all RIGHT NOW, if I EVER catch wind of you following around ANY OTHER BLACK PEOPLE, you will HEAR FROM OUR LAWYER — my husband is THE PRESIDENT of the LOCAL NAACP CHAPTER, so DO NOT MESS WITH US, or you will be on THE NATIONAL NEWS…HAVE I MADE MYSELF CLEAR?!?”

They all looked like they had been drained by Dracula. My sister and I squeezed each other’s hands as tightly as we could. Mom’s eyes started to well up with tears, so I grabbed her hand — ”Mom, we have to get dad from the COUNTRY CLUB.”

She pulled herself together. “Right, that’s right…and these people have MADE US LATE. I’m gonna ask you ONE LAST TIME JUNIOR — how much is the DAMNED JUICY FRUIT?”

“Uh, ten cents.” During the deafening silence I think I heard him peeing his chinos.

“Fine, thank you!” Mom reached into her pocketbook, took out her wallet, slowly unzipped the change pocket, and flipped a quarter onto the counter with her thumb. “Is there any tax on that gum?”

“Uh…no m’aaam.”

“Then you owe me fifteen cents Junior. Did I mention we are in a hurry?”

Scared Ron Howard looked around at everyone, looked down at the 8 foot long register tape, hit the NO SALE button, and opened the drawer. He reached in for the dime and nickel, and slowly handed them to my mom.

“You can put them on the counter please.” He looked crestfallen, and obeyed. “Thank you Junior!” (That was for all of the times my mother held out her hand for change, and the racist asshole clerks would instead put it on the counter because they didn’t want to touch her hand. I STILL deal with shit like that regularly, in 2018)

She looked him in the eye and picked it up.

“Have a GREAT DAY everyone, lets go girls!” She took my hand, I still held A.J.’s hand, and we floated out of Sears and got into the car. They all walked to the window, pushed their faces against the big pieces of glass, and looked at us in disbelief as we got into the car. Mom circled around and drove right along the curb very slowly, “Wave girls!” A.J. and I waved like we had just won the Miss America pageant — we all HOWLED with laughter as mom hit the gas and we pulled out of the lot.

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