I had an eye-opening experience this morning. I had already posted about it to Facebook when realized I really needed to write about it for my mistake essay. Sometimes our mistakes emerge things we do, but other times, our mistakes emerge from the things we don’t do. I’m always grateful that part of the confessional prayer in the Episcopal Book of Common Prayer “things done and left undone.” Many of my friends said that this was an instance when it was ok not to do anything. I’m not so sure. I’m pretty sure this experience will haunt me.
Naked Silence
I had just finished a tough swim and a scalding hot shower. I was dripping wet and wrapped in a towel. There were two old ladies hovering where I needed to be, near the swimming suit dryer. They made no effect to give me room as I put my dripping suit in the machine and set it spinning. They ignored me, continuing their conversation.
“It’s a shame that the media doesn’t give Melania as much attention as they gave that other one. She does so many good thing.”
I was wondering what the good things were and started to ask, but before I had a chance, the other lady jumped in, her voice full of malice. “That other one didn’t do anything but buy designer clothes from international designers. On the country’s dime I might add.” She spit the words out.
Huh, I thought. It’s almost as if she can’t bring herself say Michelle’s name. I shrugged my shoulders. Oh well, politics have been brutal lately. I feel that way about certain political figures myself. I gave it a pass and reached around the taller woman sitting on a stool in front of my locker. “I’ll just grab my stuff and move around to the other benches over there,” I said cheerfully.
She didn’t respond. Instead, she barked, “Well, you do know she’s a traitor. A traitor!”
Oh God, I thought as I settled on the bench. Here we go. What trumped up accusations am I going to hear about today? I tried not to listen. But the intensity of the old ladies’ conversation had picked up and there was no ignoring it.
“Don’t you just hate it when foreigners don’t respect American culture? They should just leave and go home if they don’t like it. I’ve been over there. I’ve seen their dirty streets and their disorganized ways. Ours is a culture of order. That Michelle…” She could barely contain her absolute disdain now. “That Michelle should be grateful for all we did for her to get her where she is today. She has no reason to complain.”
Grateful for all “we” did for her? Did she really just say that? Like right here in the open where anyone can hear her? She told an American citizen to “go home”? My hands were shaking as I sat there in my towel. I tried to focus on putting fragrant oil on my face and body. My hands wouldn’t stop shaking.
They walked past my bench and one of them said, “And kids these days just won’t stop getting all upset about all these little things. Then they go out there and protest and don’t even get in trouble for it so they just keep doing it. Honestly, I’m glad I’m old so I don’t have to be around for much more of this complaining.”
I looked down at my clenched fists, rolling my eyes and fighting a feeble laugh as they leave. Oh the irony of telling young people and Michelle Obama to “stop complaining” when these women themselves are so full of complaints.
I heard the door swing shut.
I started to cry, still sitting there in my towel, feeling ashamed for not saying anything in response to blatant racism. I let the vulnerability of being in a towel stand in the way of speaking up. But is that really an excuse? What is the cost of silence?
Taking My Own Freshman Composition Class 