Atlanta is still racist.
I was starting to get used to the sorrows of a majority black and white city. Sorrows that are seen by way of incult people and absent cultural tolerance.
And then Saturday happened.
I had a well paid cooking gig in Buckhead; 16 people, Cuban food, board games and John Legend on the sound waves. My friend Abdul, a low key, Harlem native, accompanied me, as he always does when I trek the streets of A-town.
After 5 busy, but exhilarating hours of cooking and parlaying, we parted the client’s home and headed to Starbucks on 14th where we left his car. You know, gas isn’t exactly stable yet, so we consolidate driving needs.
Okay, pull up to the ‘bux and no car.
It’s 3 am.
Dial the tow place and get an outrageous retrieval fee.
20 minutes later, tired as all get out we arrive to the dump and drama ensues. I comfortably dose off under the assumption everything inside the musty office is fine.
I wake up 7 minutes later to a disgruntled looking A, whom proceeds to tell me that the “white girl” inside called the police on him because she thought he was “an angry, irate black man.” Curious, I dig a bit more. Apparently, the young 22 yr. old didn’t want to accept a credit card payment, using “the machine we use doesn’t run cc transactions” line. A, being a professional banker, and being well versed in selling all brands of credit card machines, knew she was lying. He questioned the legitimacy of her claim and asked to speak with her manager, the alleged policy maker. This caused her to feel threatened. I suspect she expected him to comply without questioning.
He obliged & paid by debit, got his car, and as we begin to pull away from the trailer park dump, a white officer arrives. I guess Fulton Co. police likes getting those natured calls, as it took him no time to get there. Gives them an opportunity to talk about angry black men, you know. He speaks to the woman while A waits outside. I witness the scene from my car. When the officer finally addressed A, the conversation, through hand gestures gives me the impression is going no where. So I get out and interject, in very vintage Cubana form. I abruptly ended the conversation between the two with these words:
“She’s a young white girl in the South, afraid and intimidated by a black man. It’s not going to change. This cop isn’t going to do anything so stop wasting my time. It’s 3:3. Let’s go!”
The officer was a bit uncomfortable, too.
Sadly, this blatant racism still exists. I thought Atlanta was making progress and it’s not. Same crap, different day.
Obama, hope you’re ready my man.
Eat well, love unapologetically, pray with true intention, and take care of yourself.