BY SIMONE J. SMITH
I realized after last weekend that I am protected and powerful, but also that I am a little naïve. Naïve enough to think that acts of racism were not possible here in Canada; and foolish to believe that white supremacy does not exist.
I was in Windsor visiting my little sister Brittney Channer, and I had promised to pick her up in the rising after her midnight shift. It was about 8:00 am, so I wrapped my head up, threw on some tights, and jumped in the car. Just before I pulled off, I said a prayer asking God to personally protect and guide me, and also protect and guide my family, friends, acquaintances, and my enemies. This has become a common practice of mine and something I learned from my father. He always told me to pray for my enemies, because good would come back to me.
I picked Brittney up, and we decided to stop by Tim Horton’s on the way home. I have to explain the set up of this Tim Horton’s because it is important to the story. There are three entrances to this Timmy’s; two of them come from the parking lot and converge inside the Tim Horton’s. At times I am sure that some common courtesy has to be exhibited, due to the conversion, but it was not so in this case.
I walked into the Tim Horton’s and maneuvered myself around a young woman who was standing just to the side waiting in line. The line moved up, and as it did, a tall, bald-headed, white man with sunglasses came through the door and stood right beside me. I thought nothing of it because remember, there is that convergence that does happen, so I thought he would just hang back as the line continued to move forward. What I noticed was that as the line moved, and I moved, he would move with me. Still thinking nothing of it, we continued to move in unison, like two militants in an army. We were almost at the top of the line, and I realized that this man had no intention of moving from where he was, so I asked him, “Excuse me; are you with her?” I gestured to the young woman in front of him. With disdain in his voice he looked down at me and said, “No, I am waiting in line like everyone else. I was here before you, so what is the problem. You know what, if you want the spot so bad, have it!” He moved back a little with a grimace on his face. Me being the smartass that I am said, “Well thank you very much,” and I turned around chuckling!
“Yeah! Thanks for the attitude!” He turned to another white guy behind him and said, “All of that for a spot in line, “and he and the other man began to make snide comments behind me. At this point, my blood was boiling because he was starting to get downright disrespectful; I was about to lose my cool, when the young lady in front of me (who happened to be white), turned around looked at this man and said, “Actually, she was there before you!” I stopped shocked; I had not expected that at all, and instantly my blood stopped boiling. “There is just no common courtesy anymore; sorry you had to deal with that,” she said, and then she turned around, picked up her order and left. Of course, homeboy behind me was still muttering under his breath, but I could tell the air had been taken out of his sails.
I learned two major things from this experience; I have some fierce ancestors watching over me, and in the face of my enemies, they had prepared a table for me. I didn’t have to fight my battle that day, because it was not mine to fight. I was also reminded that there are great people, and poisonous people that exist in every culture, race, religion, and creed; if you trust God and your ancestors to have your back, they will always ensure to place great people in your path.