When my daughter Elena got off the bus with her suitcase the other night, she didn't see me immediately. Finally, after she saw me, she ran joyfully into my arms yelling daddy, daddy, daddy! Which was nice to get. She's 18 now, and home from college. So hugs are a real big parental treat that never grows old. Talky and dramatic, as always, Elena began the conversation in energetic bursts. Despite not having caught her breath yet. "I didn't recognize you!" She said. "I only saw two large men coming towards me, so I put on the face!" I said, "the face?" She said "yeah". Then she demonstrated. I couldn't stop laughing after she transformed her stunning beautiful features into a staggering expression of cruelty and contempt.
At just over 4ft tall it was somewhat effective, but she is in the least bit terrorizing. We laughed some more. Then she told me how she used it as a defense against a girl inside a Port Authority bathroom. "She didn't' know my story. Or where I've been, daddy. So I let her have it!" Then she demonstrated again. I thought to myself. Yeah, she didn't know you were a trained assassin. Who began learning her craft walking the privileged tranquil halls of the Caedmon School on the upper east side of Manhattan. And then how you went on to advanced training. At the the De Lasalle Academy on the upper west side. Before finishing your expert assassin courses in high school. On the pristine campuses of The Westtown boarding school in PA. You haven't had it rough kiddo. But I didn't burst her bubble and kept that to myself.
The fact that we were walking home together from the bus stop did suggest "the face" was highly effective. Despite my laughter. Or that her aggressors found it hysterical too, and let her off the hook. I forgot about her adventures once we arrived home. Twelve hours later, I was in NYC. Alone on business. In face after face riding the subway, and in glance after glance on the street, I became a regular recipient of "the face".
I thought about Elena, and smiled to myself. Then I remembered how I have been the recipient of these hostile looks ever since I started traveling the city alone as a teenager. It's been so long since I considered it. On some level I reconciled it was just the price for being out and about in the world.
At first they were the door prize for leaving the safe Bushwick neighborhood I knew as a boy. Then those facial expressions were rationalized as the going rate for daring to venture out from my economically fringed African American comfort zone to stake a claim on the American Dream.
I was initially intimidated by "the face". Then angered by it's use against me and the effect on my comfort.
But now I am mostly confused. Back then all the hostile looks seemed to be racially motivated. Almost exclusively, it was white versus black. Then they became motivated by class distinction. Now they mostly seem intra-racial (at least in the Northeast). That's the profound thing. Most of these looks are coming at me from people who look just like me. Looks that suggest apprehension, fear, and contempt. All of the same old reasons. The look has crossed various intra-cultural lines too. With Native Africans, and Caribbeans, using the tight defensive "face" too.
And there is no relief from aging either. I'm 50 plus. The look has yet to be retired against me. It's a high intensity judgment look. A straight shot to the heart, no chaser, and always on target. Right between the eyes. At my age I rarely, if ever, look away as I did when I was younger.
But all this being said, what is a homegrown African American boy to do when confronted with such optical hostility. Well first thing, is to remain clear about it. These facial expressions are not personal, and will probably never change. So don't complain. As long as people remain victims of self-centered fear, the look will always projected outward. We're not victims either. My mere existence will attract the look from somewhere. The attendant particulars amount to slightly more than the shallow physical feature attractions that happen between people a million times a day. It's a reaction to a detail like a head of beautiful naturally curly hair. Great eyes, or a nice juicy butt passing you on the street. People will feel what they feel, and react the way they do. If you want to try intimidating me using the "face", or be dismissive with it, then here's what I'll do. I'll exist beyond the limitations of media representation, and political innuendo. I'll focus my attention on what I can do for myself to achieve comfort in my own skin. I will maintain a spiritual life not based entirely on the superficial whims of a church, but based on the spirituality reflected in the bible, and rely on a God that works.
I will understand that I am only as good as my teachers. So I must pay attention, and listen intently at the lessons put before me. I will undertake learning everything there is to know about God like my life depends on it, and it does! I will keep an open mind because bias hinders progress. And most of all, I will give. Give of myself. Give even after I think I have given enough. Because it is in giving, that I get to experience what is truly wonderful about life. Giving alleviates self-pity, and personal sorrow. I also get to feel like a valuable contributor every day of my life. But most important, I get to be judged based on what I know about myself, rather than what I think others see in me.
Walter Dunn Jr.
No comments:
Post a Comment