The best race relations lessons come when you least expect them
By Elizabeth Armstrong
I don't remember his face as a whole, but there are details I doubt I'll ever forget. His eyes were dark and flickering; his weathered velvet skin revealed the slightest hint of stubble around his mouth; and the muscles in his jaw clenched as he met my gaze.
But those are details, and they come later.
First, there was only a question: "Excuse me, but do you have any quarters?"
I was walking toward Boston Common with a friend on a staggeringly cold afternoon, and I didn't turn to acknowledge him. From the corner of my eye, all I could make out was the shape of a few men bundled up to ward off the cold. The one asking about quarters held what looked to be a cup.
And there was one more thing: These men were black.
This is the part of the story where I begin to flinch, and I want to stop writing. Except there's the possibility that, by facing something I consider so despicable, something I never expected to find within myself, I might learn from the experience, and might even convince others to face it within themselves as well.
Thanks for posting this.
Posted by Al-Muhajabah at February 9, 2004 06:17 AM