Yesterday I had the opportunity to do a service project with some local teenagers. We made and delivered boxes of food for Thanksgiving to families in need. I had to deliver the boxes to the avenues. The avenues are in a less desirable part of town and let's just say that the people that live there are not open to diversity. I have said it before, I don't see many people of color in Terre Haute and even though we have a black president, I am well aware racism isn't dead...people just hide it better.
After completely getting lost I arrived at my first house and knocked on the door. Dogs started barking and after a few seconds they were shushed and I saw curtains move out of the corner of my eye. I waited for the resident to open to door...and then waited some more. I knocked again, the dogs barked again and were shushed again and still no one came to the door. I held back my frustration as I made my way back to car and figured out what to do next but all I could do was sit in my car and cry.
I was sick to my stomach by what had just happened and thought maybe I should have brought the food with me to the door and maybe she would have answered. That way I could have spent the rest of my day unaware of the hate someone had for me just because of the color of my skin. That, I knew would just be putting a band aid in a problem that existed long before I moved to Terre Haute and long before I was born. Instead of dwelling in this, I left a note letting them know who to call to arrange to pick up their basket though I really wanted to let them now where they could go.
This wasn't the first time something like this has happened since I have been here. The most recent time when I was signing up for a class with my friend Sassy and she was asked for her information to join a birthday club. When it was my turn, the lady took my payment for the class and was ready to send me on my way and when I asked about the birthday club she looked at me like I asked to borrow her toothbrush and said "I guess you can" and reluctantly handed over a pen. I thought I'd imagined that, but Sassy shot me look letting me know she was equally shocked and disgusted by what had taken place. Instead of crying about something like that, Sassy and I cracked up over the cashier's ignorance.
Sadly, the tears I cried in my car were not the only tears I cried over this lady and her family and I hated that because I know racist don't deserve my tears, only my pity. It is a shame that woman and her family robbed themselves of the opportunity to see me for more than my color and eventually they will see that they are missing out on more than just their Thanksgiving dinner.
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