Dear Diary #4
I think that some Whites would realize what is going on and try to band together with Blacks and other POC to stop the Chinese takeover, but I am afraid that if they are successful in doing so, then things will go back to the way they were before. Whites will go back to being on top and dumping the Blacks at the next bus stop. —— Mickey
Last week I went to get some kerosene. I usually stock up during the summer months when the prices fall so come winter we’ll have enough. As I drove into the station, I did what I usually do, quickly glance around to see if other blacks were there. I use this subtle defense as a tool to keep me as safe as possible. It would seem that I was the only one. I pulled up to the pump closest to the store entrance, went into the store and quietly asked for some kerosene.
Gone was the white manager. He was replaced with a 50ish Asian (Indian) man. As I made my way to the pump, I saw out of the corner of my eye an older white gentleman fiddling with his tire. I kept my head down and focused on my kerosene. The pump was stubborn and did not want to start. Out of nowhere, the older white male with gray hair appeared and offered to help me. Before I could utter one word, he took it upon himself to fix the handle and began to give me tips on kerosene efficiency.
“There’s this chemical you can buy at Home Depot that will make your kerosene burn longer and cleaner. It’ll save ya at least 20 bucks in the long run.”
I peered into his watery, blue eyes and saw that he was looking for something that I never thought I’d see from any white person: Approval. I nodded slowly and thank him and it seemed to delight him further. He told me that he and his wife built their home solely on kerosene heat but that was when kerosene was a lot cheaper. I listened and nodded but did not respond. I was in full Neely Fuller Codification Mode. He smiled at me and kind of waved and began to saunter away but stopped for one more mind-blowing statement:
“Ya know…we’re all in this thing together…we gotta help each other.”
I smiled at him showing no teeth and thanked him once more before he walked away and drove off, his blue pick up truck sending gravel flying into the air.
As I filled up my blue container with the smelly liquid, I pondered his statement. We’re all in this thing together.
When were blacks and whites “in this thing together?” And what “thing” would that be exactly? When did that happen? And why didn’t someone tell me that “we’re all in this thing together?” When 9-11 happened, I was in New Jersey enjoying my day off when my friend called me screaming on the phone. At first, only at first, the newscasters claimed it was black guys that were flying the plane. Then they transformed into Muslims. I saw black and white band together in solidarity, crying together, pulling each other out of rubble and dust, only to go back ignoring and hating each other 1 month later.
When Hurricane Katrina happened, I was in Mobile, AL when one of my black patients whispered in my ear, “You know…I was in my yard when I heard the bomb go off…”
Where were whites when we were drowning in our living rooms? Oh yeah…hunting us with rifles and dogs.
Do you think that whites are feeling that it’s crunch time and they’re not going to have any choice but to turn to us for help? If they come a-knocking, will you help them?