Sneakers. Sweatshirt. Even…wait for it…sweatpants. (I almost never wear sweatpants.)
All these comfy clothes, AND I was at the office. That could only mean one thing: It was a holiday.
Martin Luther King Jr. Day, actually.
Now, I’m not black. I’m a white chick from a white neighborhood, so I don’t have any right to say anything about the very real struggles of black folk.
So I won’t. All I’ll say is, I hope I can do at least my small part to be a better person. When Geoff and I were in DC a few weeks ago, we were on the Metro (…lost), and a guy asked us where we were trying to get to. We told him, and he tried to help us figure out how to get there.
I realized I was nervous. And then I realized, I was only nervous because he wasn’t a white guy in a business suit. He was a black guy in average hang-about clothing. Sweatpants and such. The same general kind of outfit I wore to the office today, actually.
And I stopped myself. I was doing the same damn stereotyping that almost every white person does (but doesn’t admit they do). I caught myself, and I felt bad. Really bad. And I tried to do better.
I still try to do better.
I guess that’s something we should all aim for.