We were walking through the terminal, weary from the flight. Without thought, I voiced the complaint of my ears: “That flight attendant was loud!” She was naturally so and needed no coaching, but when she used the intercom I almost covered my ears.
My accomplice and I had made acquaintance on the plane and found we shared much in common. We had continued our conversation as we made our way to the rental car area.
“Would you be complaining if she were white?” my new friend asked.
I looked at him. “Huh?”
“Would you be complaining if she were not brown?”
Sometimes indignation is the soul’s hapless defense. I was indignant, but the woman’s color had never entered my mind. “Was she white?” I asked myself out loud, looking at my friend.
He kept walking. “What are you suggesting?” I asked.
“Nothing, just asking the question.”
“Why do you ask?”
“I just wondered.”
“Did you think she was loud?”
Silence. I knew he did because I saw him grimace more than once when the intercom came on. “Did you?” I persisted because he was the first to question motives.
“Yes.”
“Would it have mattered if she were white?” I asked.
Again, silence.
We had separate car companies and I never saw him again, though I sincerely wish the wound could have healed.
We should be very careful assigning or questioning motives: it is the infamous 3rd rail, where angels scarcely tread. Certainly good friends and spouses should help us examine our motives, and none of us are exempt from error. But casually suggesting racism with a virtual stranger is a bit much.
This man as much as said I was racist and then tried to hide from it. Maybe I am, though I don’t think so. Certainly we all like our own tribe, those who share our various ways of life and being. But this should never mean we shun others for their differences, especially when those differences are immutable. Rather, we learn to love people, even when they’re . . . loud.
And along the way, if we possibly can, we should quit assuming others are racist. Very often it is an easy short-cut to feeling “better-than.”
See what I did there? I assigned motive to him. This is a bitter vortex of casting shade. I will stop the cycle now, forgive, and forget.
[The above is a true account of a potential near-miss. It describes what could have been, but, happily, much of it never played out.]
Randy Huff and his wife lived for 5 years in Roanoke (Hollins) where they raised 2 sons. Randy served as Dean of Students at a Christian school and then worked in construction. For the last 8 years he has served as pastor of a church in North Pole, Alaska.