There is no doubt that we Americans are a fortunate people. As is peculiar to our history, when we’ve needed the right man at the right time, that person has appeared. And we’ve chosen him to be our leader. We have elected a cool-headed man, a distinguished legal scholar, an inspiring speaker; a devoted husband and father who came from humble circumstances and remembers from whence he came. Oh, and one other thing. He’s Black. Maybe you’ve noticed?
One of the dangers of racism is that it often crops up when and where you least expect it. The effect is similar to cutting yourself with an extremely sharp knife – you don’t realize you’re injured until you look down and see the blood. Generally, you have a split second to think, "Oh, shit, that’s gonna hurt!" And boy, you ain’t disappointed are you? While painful, however, a lesson has been learned. You’ll pay closer attention next time, won’t you? And sometimes, the lesson is painful, but funny at the same time. Follow me over the fold, and I’ll tell you what I mean.
I believe a great collateral benefit can be gained from the Obama Presidency. Why? Because the educational opportunities simply cannot be missed. Think about it. This man, this President, this icon, if you will, inspires deep emotions, among them a ferocious, proprietary loyalty. If we belong to him, HE belongs to us – all of us who sweated, strained, and fought so hard to make his promise a reality. As Hotchimera’s recent diaries have made clear, we have become as one with the President – for good or ill – and there’s a lot of ill. Hotchimera’s use of the word "niggardization" has spawned some controversy, but I happen to believe she’s correct. Because of our support, we (regardless of our ethnicities) are now "tarred with the same brush" as the President. For many people, this experience is going to be as close to being Black as they ever get. This administration is going to be a post-graduate course in empathy. For all the times that we’ve heard or uttered the phrases, "Oh, you’re being too sensitive" or "For goodness sake! It’s not always about race, you know!" (two unbearably patronizing utterances, IMHO): Sit up and pay attention. Class is in session.
As you may have gathered from my username, I’m a horse nut. Irredeemable. And I don’t even have to be mounted up to experience horsey euphoria – just being around horses is enough. Which is how this whole incident got started. The schooling horse I usually rode, Deuce, went lame and was put on 30 days of hand walking only. On Saturdays, I made it my business to take Deuce for his walk, allow him to graze and then groom him. On this particular Saturday, I had Deuce in the crossties and was just finishing his grooming, when a man I had never seen before walked down the aisle towards me. He was nattily turned out for riding, complete with dressage whip, which he tapped against his boots.
I should mention that President Obama and I share the identical ethnicity. Being an African-American equestrienne is not unusual in some parts of the country – Virginia and the Carolinas, for instance. But trust me when I tell you that around here, the only people who look like me in a barn are usually the stable hands. Given that and the fact that I was not dressed for riding (I was wearing a t-shirt, shorts and muck boots). I suppose what happened next shouldn’t have surprised me.
"Here, you", he said as he approached. "Tack up that horse for me."
"Sorry?" I asked.
I must have looked as dumb as I sounded, because he rolled his eyes.
"Speak English?"
"Y-es".
"I’m in a hurry! Tack that horse up for me! Here!" He thrust a $20.00 bill in my direction, pointed at a stall, and bustled off in the direction of the lounge, fairly radiating equal parts arrogance and Aramis.
I was dumbfounded. Then I had to laugh. He just assumed I was the hired help. Well . . . okay, then.
I should make this point perfectly clear. The stable hands at this particular barn (and, in fact every barn with which I’ve ever been associated) have been, almost without exception, minorities. And they are also the hardest working, most honest, caring, compassionate, competent people you’ll ever hope to meet in life. The care of horses requires near 24/7 commitment and not only do they perform all tasks without complaint, in all weathers, it can be damned dangerous. You try dealing with a self-willed creature that is perfectly capable of buttressing their argument with teeth, hooves and sheer body mass. Had he but known, this ignatz honored me by thinking I was a member of this exclusive cadre. The implied insult was that they were some inferior species, good enough to clean up after a horse, but not good enough to ride them.
I disappeared that $20 and put Deuce in an empty stall. I hoped to hell my unintentional benefactor meant the bay Westphalian in #17, and not that evil-eyed Appaloosa mare in #18. Nothing against Appaloosa’s mind you, they are lovely critters, but there are some horses that simply won’t tolerate any interference, and she was one of them. She’d sent Miguel to the hospital the week before.
It took me a minute to match the tack to the horse and as I ran a soft brush over the gelding’s already gleaming coat, I pondered on the phenomenon of wealth and the bad judgment and poor manners that seem to accompany it. There was no doubt this guy was dripping in assets – I judged the horse to have cost somewhere between $35 and $70,000. The saddle was a Pessoa – top of the line, of course. His boots were handmade – a breathtaking conceit in a casual rider - and I bet his britches hadn’t come off the rack from Dover Saddlery either. But I had met just as many boorish people who were not of means; bigotry apparently is not the exclusive province of any socio-economic class. Or lack thereof.
I had just finished adjusting the throat latch when Amy, the head instructor and owner of the schooling horses came down the aisle.
"What are you doing with Thunder Bay?", she asked.
"Guy threw me a $20.00 and told me to tack him up." I kept my face and voice neutral.
"What the f*ck? Why would he . . . . "The first penny dropped. She cursed imaginatively.
"That jack ass. I’d throw him out of here, but he’s got more money than God . . .
She stopped. The other penny dropped. "Oh, Jeez – I’m so sorry."
I reassured her. No harm, no foul.
I walked Thunder Bay down the aisle and back and re-tightened the girth. I thought about not doing this, since his owner didn’t strike me as the type of rider who would know that some horses, mischievous critters that they are, will hold their breath while being saddled – but I figured if he fell off, he’d take it out on the horse.
As we approached the indoor arena, Mr. Big clattered down from the upstairs lounge. With a curt nod, he took the horse from me and walked into the arena. (And no, he didn’t re-check the girth).
Amy was still looking downcast. I went out to my car and came back in.
"Don’t worry about it, kiddo. He’s just not as well-bred as his horse is, but it’s not your fault. Here, see that he gets this."
She brightened a little bit. I had handed her a card, on the back of which I had written:
Thanks for the tip. You have a lovely horse. Enjoy your ride!
On the front, of course, my name, title and position.
Now, did the doofus learn something that day? Probably not. But Amy did. See what I mean? Collateral education benefits from empathy. That’s what the Obama presidency can do. Let’s not waste the opportunity.
As I told Hotchimera the other day:
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Many things that have been deeply buried in our national psyche are going to be revealed over this course. The fear of the Black man that is the root of racism; the rage of the Black man that is its converse. ("Man" used generically here!) The Civil Rights Movement has really been little more than a band-aid covering the festering wound that is racism in America. The Obama Presidency is ripping that Band-Aid off. And it's gonna hurt and it's gonna bleed.
But then that wound may finally heal - not without scarring - but the infection will have been washed away by the cooling waters of true understanding and respect, not mere tolerance
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Thanks for reading. Class dismissed