I Didn’t think I’d Buy a House in a White Hood Because White People Are Scary

But I’m Not Afraid of Ghosts

I thought up many different ways to start this story. “I’m afraid. Existential fear of white rage. And so on.” Then something happened.

I went for a walk with my daughters.

Walking With My Girls

We leashed our Jackabee and out we went. Doesn’t sound exciting and it wasn’t. Except, we don’t do it often. My youngest hates leaving the house. And my oldest prefers to walk alone, only headphones for company. Both of them are riding depression and each day can be…fraught.

The result of a Black mother and a white father, we’ve talked about how easy life is with dad. They never wonder if a cashier was rude because of dad’s milky white skin streaked with strawberry. But we laugh about the people across the street who stop and watch us pass. Kidnapping. We’ve made a game of these experiences. So when 18yo pops up with kidnapping, we’re all in. Mum’s captured us and is taking us to…we all laugh. The 16yo smiles, mum’s our pimp. Yeah. We ignore the staring and walk on.

Where are we going? This isn’t the route.

I want to show you something. We walk out of the trees and onto a sidewalk beside an empty road. Covid reduced the number of cars, but this was usually a quiet road anyway. The girls walk ahead with puppy. They turn back to me when we get surrounded by dogs on three sides. Behind them, I’d made the curb my beam. Ever since an injury had impaired my ability to walk pain-free, I made sure to celebrate being able to walk and balance. I did a little jump and took the dog.

16yo hunched her shoulders together. Shrunk herself. I used to let her know when she did this. If you’re thinking it didn’t help, yes ma’am, you’re right. I don’t do that, she said. I don’t argue because I don’t have any solutions. I can’t fix anything that’s broken. She flinches smaller when we pass the white couple walking towards us from the direction we’re heading in. I say nothing.

The dog behaves and ignores the other dogs. In another life, the dog was her therapy dog. But his tendency to jump at other dogs, especially well-behaved canines leashed in white hands, meant that he became another point of anxiety for her. Her shoulders relax when we’re past the gauntlet of people and dogs.

We’re at the end of the road. Take a look, do you see it? I’m pointing at the trees. They don’t see it yet. I point again. Look up. Then they see it. “Wow!” I told them a few nights ago about the old house on my walk. A large home that would need a ton of work. It had wrap-around porches on two stories at the front and side. Wide outdoor stairs and two more porches around the back.

It’s Sleeping Beauty’s house, I’d told them. The tall trees and shrubs hid the house. You had to know it was there. After a mild winter and warm spring, I’d explored the separate garage with the wildflowers-covered drive. I’d tested the porch treads back and front, and taken photos from as many angles as I dared. I’m not partial to spiders and abandoned old homes seem to be a magnet for their kind. I visited in compact bursts.

Someone’s keeping a roof over their heads

I hadn’t walked in that direction for a few weeks. When puppy and I had paid the house another visit — a change. Boards had been pulled off a door hidden around a corner. We could see inside. It was the first time I felt creeped out. Uneasy. Not because I thought there was anything to be afraid of, but you never know, right? Puppy’s not a barker, except when he is and he doesn’t make a sound. Not even a growl. There’s a white chair with some pillows on top. Peeling paint on the walls and to the side is a fireplace and striped wallpaper.

Someone’s keeping a roof over their heads. My back gets tight, a knot forms. Little hairs rise on my back too. I snap a few pictures and we walk briskly to the front, part the leaves, and we’re safely on the sidewalk.

Now, the girls and I clear those same leaves and gaze up at the front of the house. The yellow brick is in good condition. The sagging by the rear porch reveals that some foundation work will be necessary. Giant curved windows with brick detailing beg me to preserve them. Back on the sidewalk, my 18yo wants to buy the house. It can’t cost that much, she believes. It’s a housing war right now I tell her. Even this old lady is going to cost a bundle. She’s got the bug like me. She likes to fix what’s broken. It’s a double-edged gift.

Eighteen year old and I chat about what we would do to the house. We’d keep all the old details and make the inside as modern as possible. Lots of light. Did you see the skylight, I ask her. She turns around. I tell her to look at the side and up. It’s a big one. It should let in a lot of yummy sun. We’re a family that needs sun. My 16yo walks ahead with the dog. Interior design bores her. I decided it would be fun to reupholster our couches. My 18yo and I pored over fabrics, should we go with velvet? No. We’ll never get the cat and dog fur out. I thought corduroy. Same issue. It has to be leather, sweet sixteen yells. Oh. She’s seventeen now. And eighteen is nineteen. It’s only been three weeks since they turned. But that’s her contribution and you know it’ll be leather. Faux leather. We don’t do real leather here. We don’t do zoos or lobster. We also eat very little meat.

We’re not buying it. It’s my nineteen-year-old. I mean, I would. But, I also wouldn’t, she says. It’s not so much the words, but the familiarity. The fact I know this is my family and we talk about finding a home. The safety we want from that home. We can’t buy a house in a white neigbourhood she whispers. The three of us giggle. It’d be like painting a bulls-eye. Her voice lowers, we’d never be safe. Our walk home is through this lush, expansive neighbourhood. Big trees. Big houses. Expensive cars. We’re comfortable here.

And while it may not be the most prudent move, I did call my old real estate agent. I wouldn’t have considered buying this house a few weeks ago, but I changed my mind. My girls need to live today. That’s what they told me last week. They need me to stop talking to them all the time about racism. They see it, they feel it, they know it. They get it. It’s everywhere.

They need to gather their strength. They need to rest. I get that. So, I’m looking into that house because I live here too.