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I am
a person who strongly believes that everything happens for a reason.
I believe God teaches us lessons through our daily experiences.
After my traumatic experience today, I was left with more questions
than answers. Everyone close to me told me to let it go, not to let
one person’s ignorance change my perspective about life, but things
are not that simple.
For the first time in my life I experienced what it feels like to be
discriminated against by someone who is black. Not only that—the
whole experience took place at an Afro-centric store in Harlem. Every
day I have to deal with people’s opinions and beliefs being projected
onto me, but never in a manner which left me this upset. One person’s
words, one person’s views caused a chain reaction of disbelief,a
story told more than a dozen times by the end of that night.
I was feeling confident, on my way to an interview for a freelance position
as a web design coder, when I walked into the wrong store. The address
was correct by all appearances, but I quickly learned I was in the wrong
place. I walked into a store called Enchanted Garden on 125th Street.
Lost, I walked directly over to the sales woman and asked her if she
knew where I could find Black Ghost, a web-design company. She looked
down at me (even though she was seated and I was standing before her),
looked around her beautiful Afro-centric shop and said very nastily,
“This is not Black whatever—this is Enchanted Garden.”
I explained that the address that Black Ghost gave me was the same address
on the one on her awning. When I sat down to call the company to get
better directions, she got up and told me that I couldn’t do that
in her store; she was throwing me out.
Upset because from the moment I walked in the store I was disrespected,
I decided to show the woman that I had a lot of class. I asked her for
her business card. Glancing around the store I told her, “If I
wasn’t lost, I would shop around.” She murmured, "If
she wasn’t lost” with a hint of sarcasm and a laugh that made
me angry. Changing her whole disposition because now she realized I
was a prospect, she cut off her address from a sales receipt and handed
it to me. As the paper was being passed to me I instantly decided to
treat this woman exactly the way she treated me. I took the paper looked
at it and as I was walking out of her establishment crumpled it in my
hand and threw it on her floor. In my opinion, clearly disrespectful
but still tastefully done. I made my point without saying a word.
The woman followed me out of the store and told me to get out and go
back around the corner from where I came from. I told the woman that
I don’t live in Harlem—I do business here. I told her that
she didn’t know anything about me, or my family or where we come
from.
Upset, I called Black Ghost so I could proceed with my journey. The
president of the company told me that I had the correct address. I told
him that the address was for Enchanted Garden and that I had just had
an argument with store owner He gave me clear instructions to his business,
which was located right next to her shop with the same address.
Before going up to my interview I cried, because I was very upset. Upset
because of what happened, upset because of how I represented myself
to the owner of the company and more upset because I was confused as
to why the whole experience happened in the first place.
Being judged that strongly by a black woman working in an Afro-centric
store hurt me more than all of my past racist experiences. I was confused
as to why someone would open a store in a neighborhood where they hated
the people. I couldn’t understand why someone could have so much
hate for someone that looked exactly like herself.
I tell my boyfriend everyday it is hard for me to come to Harlem. My
father was born and raised here and mother hung out here with her friends.
She always told me it was a dangerous place but coming from Brooklyn
her fears were unheard by me. Now my boyfriend lives here and I am still
not scared traveling through the streets. I am saddened. I learned about
Harlem in school, read poems by Langston Hughes, saw documentaries so
I remembered how it used to be. Harlem was always portrayed as a mecca
of black culture and rich history and as I walk through the city I feel
like that culture and pride has been lost.
Where is the black mecca today? Where is there a place to go to experience
strong black American culture and history? Where can I go to feel welcomed,
appreciated and cherished? Where is my home? Well, according to the
woman in the store it’s not here—and according to my mother,
it’s definitely not around the corner.
Writing this passage made me realize something important. One person
can have a huge impact on many lives. I can, as one person, have an
impact on someone else’s life. I only hope my positive impact can
have a stronger effect on someone else than Enchanted Garden left on
me.
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