Racism - Up Close and Personal

Last night, Madison and McKenzie took part in a Parent's Night Out event at the place where McKenzie takes gymnastics.  Kim and I were thrilled to get away for a nice dinner with our wonderful friend, Misty, and Morgan.  We were seated in the back of our local Outback Steakhouse.  I sat on one side of the table with Misty while Morgan and Kim were across from us.  Not long after we were seated, an elderly couple entered the restaurant.  The Hostess tried to seat them at the table next to us, but they said no and pointed to another table behind Kim.  This seemed reasonable, rather than offensive, to me because I'm not crazy about sitting next to babies while I eat either. 


Morgan, who has a fabulous career ahead of her as a Wal-Mart greeter, began waiving to the couple, calling Hi Nanny!  She did this over and over and I was very surprised when neither husband nor wife even acknowledged Morgan with so much as a smile.  A few minutes later, I noticed the husband staring at us so I smiled.  He turned away.  A few more minutes pass and he is staring again.  This time I really smile and offer a little waive.  Nothing.


I see the Hostess again, leading the way to the table next to ours for a white family with a sweet little baby boy.  He was less than a year old and displayed little interaction with his parents.  Suddenly, I see the elderly gentleman behind Kim making eyes at the little boy.  The eyes turn into waives and coos to a completing oblivious baby. 

And then it happens.  The thing I have feared since the first day parenting a black child happened on a Friday night in Outback Steakhouse.  I have always wondered how I would respond when it happened, and I always knew it would happen, but last night I learned that I respond in much the same way I respond in an emergency which is to freeze. 

I sat facing my daughter and my wife, for all intensive purposes, at just the right moment to hear this elderly man say to his wife, "N*gger Baby" and nod at Morgan.  I froze.  I couldn't move.  I couldn't speak.  I couldn't even tell Kim what had just happened a few feet behind her.  I sat there like a lump on a log in complete and total shock.  I couldn't feel anything.  Not shock.  Not disgust.  Not anger.  Not rage.  I was in shock.  I wondered what I could possibly say to this 75-80 year old man that would make him change his mind about our daughter.  And the truth of the matter is there isn't anything I could say. 

I sat there thinking back on the days when I rented a small apartment in Hattiesburg from an old man and his wife on Morgan Drive.  He was old and racist and he never missed an opportunity to drop the N bomb whenever he came over to repair something in the apartment.  I would sit at the kitchen table as he fiddled with the air conditioner or unclogged a drain, thinking how close I was to exploding all over this man for his use of such a hateful, horrible word.  I knew then there was nothing I could say to change his mind, the same way I couldn't change this racist man sitting in Outback on a Friday night. 

I finished eating and continued to watch him watch us.  Eventually, they finished their meal and stood up to leave.  They had only walked a few feet from our table when I told Kim what happened.  I was so afraid she was going to explode.  While I despised what he said, I kept thinking how old he is, how frail.  Kim's face turned bright red. She had me say it again to make sure she understood correctly.  And then she stood up.

Uh oh.  This wasn't going to be good. 

Kim looked in either direction to determine which door the couple used to exit.  She saw the back of his head through the window in the door closest to us and took off.  I still couldn't feel anything but I was definitely thinking the police would probably be called.  Kim is the fiercest of mother bears.  You don't mess with her kids.  Period. 

Kim was gone for maybe 3 or 4 minutes as Misty and I contemplated the possible activity in the parking lot.  Suddenly, she was in front of me, taking her seat across the table.  She confronted the man in the parking lot, asking him if he had any questions he would like to ask her about our daughter since he clearly had an opinion on the situation.  He denied saying anything about Morgan, saying it must have been someone else.  Kim assured him she had the right person and wanted to point out to him the words of hate he just spoke were about a baby. A baby.  Not someone who had caused injury or shame to his family.  Not someone he had ever met or knew anything about.  He looked at our daughter and could only see hate. 

Kim is my hero.  While I was frozen in place, she reacted calmly and directly.  She addressed the situation immediately to the man's face.  I am so proud of Kim and so proud to share this parenting journey with her.  I stayed frozen for the rest of the night and began to feel the impact of his words today.  It has bothered me more than I can say.  I look at my children and see love, hope, promise, joy, and pride.  I held my children next to my body in the pool today as we laughed and played in the hot sun, thinking how much I love them.  I cannot even fathom the word hate in their presence.  They are my whole world.  How dare he speak such words of hate within a few feet of my miracle.  How dare he see her as less than a Divine creation of the Lord God Almighty.  How dare he see only her skin and not her spirit. 

I won't ever forget Friday night at Outback.  It may be a long time before I ever want to eat there again.  I am fairly certain this old man has already forgotten the whole thing.  I need to let it go.  The problem is I can't let it go because I feel so sad every time I think about it.  I need to work through it, process my feelings and reconcile the entire event.  And I will.  Maybe tomorrow.