It was a Friday afternoon after another long week. Relentless emails and meetings had filled my days. I was exhausted and decided to use my lunch hour to run some errands. I walked the few blocks to Atlantic Center, in Downtown Brooklyn, NY and spent some time browsing the aisles of Marshall’s. The act of shopping provided a brief distraction from the world around me. I made my way to Bath and Body Work’s, falling prey to their weekly sales. Too tired to cook, I decided to walk to one of my favorite pizza spots, Not Ray’s, for a slice.
As I walked down Hanson Place, a white man walked towards me in the opposite direction. I looked at him as he walked past, and as I walked away, he turned to me and called me the n-word. I didn’t react and thankfully the music in my headphones blocked out some of the sounds around me, but I still heard what he said and there was no one else close enough on the street. I kept my face expressionless, continuing along my way, and brushed it off as an insecure jealous man lashing out. I had watched him notice my bags and unfortunately, he looked as though he was experiencing homelessness. His insecurity and jealousy of a Black woman living a life that he was not, caused him to resort to the only tool he believed he had: racism.
That night as I sat in a bubble bath scented with my new Black tea body wash, the realization of what happened to me finally hit me. Here I was in a city built by immigrants. In a neighborhood that I have watched become gentrified. One hundred and sixty years after slavery was abolished, and a white man was still calling me a racial slur. Streets that have been home to me and my family for generations. In a moment, he ruined the memories of my home. I let both the water, and my tears cleanse me that night.
Fast forward 4 months later to the first Friday of February and I was accosted again not by words but by a visual. The President of the United States posted to his social media account a vile photo of this country’s first Black President and First Lady as apes. I was brought back to the pain that I felt several months before. A realization that no matter how hard you try, there are people who will never see you for who you are: a human being. Another jealous man resorting to the only tool he has: racist tropes.
In October, I was shocked that in 2025, I could have experienced this and in Brooklyn, NY of all places. I thought that time and location could protect me from experiencing the truly overt racist acts. To cope, I had separated the daily microaggressions that I experience as a Black woman from the in my mind, “ racist acts of back in the day.” As if both experiences aren’t equally as painful. Having experienced this pain recently, I felt less shocked at The President’s post , but had a deeper understanding of what I had gone through.
The country of my birth had elected a leader who was openly racist. All people of color heard his dog whistles as he called Mexicans, “rapists” and lambasted immigrants from “sh*thole countries.” But for many white people racism doesn’t exist unless it is blatant. There is no hiding who he is now. Deleting the photo does not change who he is. The President’s actions and his defiance and defense of the photo should solidify in everyone’s one mind who he is and what his administration stands for.
A familiar scene played out in my apartment that night. I set a bath, soaking in the blue waters of my freesia bath bomb, and wept for the price that my people have paid. I weep because we find ourselves fighting the same fight as our ancestors. I weep because at times this burden feels too heavy to bear. In the weeks that followed the incident with the man in my neighborhood, I recounted my story to anyone who would listen. I used my community as another form of release. But I found myself even more heart broken as many Black people I told, seemed surprised that this was the first time this had happened to me. I saw the realization in their eyes that this pain was not carried alone.
As I watched the water drain out of the tub, I repeated my daily bath affirmation, “ I release what is no longer mine to carry.” My daily reminder to stop carrying the day’s burdens for tomorrow will have enough burdens of its own. I stepped out of the tub and anointed my body with my vitamin E body oil and lavender lotion. I looked in the mirror and smiled at the beautiful face looking back at me. The truth is this burden is heavy and I am tired of fighting the same fight. I am tired of white people feeling so insecure that they feel the need to make everyone else feel as small and as insecure as they feel. James Baldwin said, “What white people have to do, is try and find out in their own hearts why it was necessary to have a nigger in the first place, because I’m not a nigger, I’m a man, but if you think I’m a nigger, it means you need it.” And I will ask, “If you need to degrade someone to an animal, then what does that say about you?”
On that day last fall, I was walking down the street with my head held high. That man called me that name because he looked at me and wanted to remind me of what he thinks is my place. But my neighborhood is my place. I live four blocks from where I graduated from high school. We used to get pizza after school from the same pizza shop. I had my first kiss down the street from that pizza shop. I was on the phone at that Target, when I found out my grandmother was dying. I fell in love with the Black and White cookies from the deli on the corner of Hanson and Fort Greene Place. This is my home.
The disgusting photo that President Trump shared was meant to be a reminder to not rise too high. To not aim for your wildest dream because one day this could be you. A reminder that this is how we want you to see yourself. To the people of the Global Majority, I want to remind us that though we may be tired, the crowns that we wear are never too heavy for us. Dream your wild dreams. Live your one life. Show people who you are. They’re going to hate you anyway. This is your reminder that the only thing that matters is that you don’t hate yourself.
Author’s Note:
I wrote this piece prior to the incident that was aired at last night’s BAFTA awards where Tourette’s campaigner John Davidson had what has been described as a involuntary tick and yelled out the n-word at Michael B Jordan and Delroy Lindo as they presented the award for Best Special Visual Effects.
The apologies that were issued were insulting at best. Because the truth is regardless of whether it was a racial slur that was intentional or unintentional, it happened. Not only did it happen but BAFTA chose to keep the incident in the airing, even though it was on a two-hour delay and a pro-Palestine message had been edited from the acceptance speech of one of the night’s winners.
Our pain is both minimized and displayed simultaneously. Instead of deleting the incident it was aired. Instead of an apology, a tepid explanation for what can only be described as a painful and embarrassing moment for two of Hollywood’s most exceptional performers. We are expected to carry the burden of everyone’s pain without anyone considering ours.
The incident at the BAFTA’s is a part of broader issue where racist actions are observed and once the backlash happens, a flippant apology is issued without any real actions or consequences. For a species that is hellbent on hurtling towards growth and expansion, it’s interesting that revert back to old patterns when we are confronted with growth that makes us uncomfortable.