How Race Is Lived In America | The Awl
So last night I was meeting a couple of friends for drinks in Brooklyn… [snip] I wandered through the streets, seeking the aid of anyone who might help me reach my meeting place… [snip]
I came upon an African-American woman in her late forties who was walking a large dog. With a big, friendly smile on my face, I inquired if she might help point me toward where I needed to go.
“Don’t approach me and don’t address me,” she said. “You’re not welcome in this neighborhood.”
not two seconds later, I saw a gentleman who was actually selling them [drugs]. I waited the appropriate amount of time after the transaction had been completed and asked if he could direct me. [snip]
I finally came upon some sort of manufacturing establishment and asked the gentleman sitting outside on an overturned milk crate if he knew where the location I was already late in arriving to might be.
[snip]
“You want to go down four blocks and over three. But go down the four first. You go over three you’re gonna go through the projects. White boy like you? They’d eat you alive.”
I thanked him and did as he said, but the whole experience rankled and still does. (And God knows I am never going back to Cobble Hill again.)
I try not to make fun of people who are obviously in very stressful, very traumatic situations but…
Bwahahahahahahahahahahahaha!!!
edit: on second read, I know the development he’s probably talking about and I’m really hoping this is a joke.
via randomwalks/dj
Source: The Awl
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