Once Again, I Was the Only Black Person at a Wedding
Hey look honey, a Black person. Get the camera.
Yet again I found myself in another precarious situation where I was the only Black person in a sea of white people. This past weekend, I accompanied my wife to her friend’s daughter’s wedding. With the exception of two other guests, I knew not a soul at this shindig. Typical. I was the plus one so my attendance mattered not at all in the grand scheme of things.
The first time my presence was noted was right before the wedding party took the stage. We had arrived late due to inclement weather and sneaked our way in through the back door. Within seconds, as if the collective sensed a disturbance in the force, hundreds of eyes diverted from the arbor to the 6’4” Black man standing at the back of the tent.
Post the vows, I couldn’t get to our table fast enough. There, I could remain unnoticed for the rest of the evening, or so I thought.
Terry(orized)
My wife, who took advantage of the open bar, got up at one point to go to the bathroom leaving me alone to fend off the inquisition. This is usually the case when you are the only person of color for miles around. All of a sudden you become the focus of every white person within eyeshot — like a captive animal on display at a zoo.
The exposed seat to my right — my wife’s vacant seat — now, an open invitation for any overzealous seat filler looking to have all their long-awaited social questions answered.
Ladies and gentlemen… Terry.
I should have known what I was up against when he made his first declaration for all to hear once he learned there was a vegetarian at the table. “Who’s the person here who doesn’t eat meat?” Proud of my entrée choice, I happily held up my table card which displayed a large “V” on the back.
I’m used to being judged — if not for the color of my skin, then for what I choose to eat (or choose not to eat). Yet another example of the differences many choose to zero in on.
After I checked his ego, he seemed particularly interested in chatting me up. Small talk I am not a fan of, though in this instance with a vacant chair between us, I felt obligated to reciprocate. Terry, who is the CFO and boss of the bride’s father had much to say about his company — staff in particular. Tinged with extreme hostility, he described how he was paying $1.2 MM per month to keep the company doors open even though most of the employees worked from home due to Covid. It was clear from what he was sharing that he resented the staff not being present in the office.
When asked by another tablemate if he would consider a hybrid model, he scoffed at the idea that Covid was anything to be concerned about. What was particularly disturbing about his position was him taking great joy in mentioning how he hadn’t been in the office in 17 months yet expected the entire staff to be in their seats every day. “Butts in chairs” contributing to the company’s bottom line was his only motivation.
Sucked into his own vortex of privilege and disregard for anything “not him,” or his needs, Terry segued into his distrust of the staff. Declaring his lack of concern about the wellbeing of his co-workers, he dove deep into character assassinations of those he felt were bucking the system.
It was clear he was choosing his words cautiously yet the tone in what he was saying was telling. As he continued to describe the company culture, and how he expected everyone to adhere to his basic principles of conduct, his demeanor grew more and more agitated.
Another guest who overheard Terry’s diatribe broke in and asked him if he was familiar with the latest phenomenon of people not wanting to return to their jobs. Not a return to their place of business necessarily, but to their actual jobs. This is when Terry’s inner torch became a full-blown wildfire. With unabashed vitriol, he blurted out… “F*ck ‘em.”
“If they’re too stupid to come back to a job they need then they deserve to struggle.” “This is not charity.” “There are no handouts.”
He continued.
“The median pay for these people is $36,000. These are low-level jobs. All they have to do is the simplest of tasks. Don’t take much brainpower to execute.”
“Any monkey can do their jobs.”
I don’t know about you but after hearing all this, it wasn’t that difficult to discern what he was really thinking — whom he was referring to. He had already laid out a group of people he felt were beneath him.
Honestly, the work environment he described… why would anyone, especially a person of color, want to put themselves through such abuse by an oppressive tyrant at the helm like Terry. Not a healthy atmosphere.
It was obvious where he wanted to go verbally but given who was in the audience — me — he kept the respect level at a two. His code for disparaging what he considered any class or race of people he deemed “less-than,” was deafening. There were a lot of “theys” and “thems” and “those people” in his description of the company’s makeup. Frequently he drove home his point of contention; how he was “being taken advantage of” by a staff that was milking his company’s profits by staying home.
You lazy, good for nothing…
Next came the comments about everyone being lazy and how he didn’t trust anyone who was not in the office. He could not bring himself to believe the staff was doing their jobs unless he was there to monitor. As he went further and further down the rabbit hole of bias and disrespect, his choice of words became less restrained, each new sentence dripping with privilege.
By him thinking he couldn’t trust anyone and that the employees needed to be monitored as if he was the foreman on a plantation was transparent; a look inside someone who valued division and suspected everyone who was not like him.
As he got more and more heated, his wife placed her hand on his knee, I guess to calm him before he said something offensive — too late. Watching him struggle to find the appropriate words to communicate his points was unsettling. I’m sure he would have preferred to be in the comforts of home chopping it up with his “boys club” but here, in front of “that person,” he tried to whitewash his bias trash. Hmmm.
Though no slurs or epithets were floated, his undeniable commitment to the ugliness of division was evident. His temper when discussing being treated unfairly and in his mind, taken advantage of, was as tone-deaf as cultural appropriation.
“Those people should be thankful they have a job and shouldn’t be lazy about working.”
“What would they do if they didn’t have their jobs? They would be everyone else’s burden.”
Just who exactly is he talking about? Asking for a friend.
No doubt some of you may question my linking Terry’s assclownish behavior with him being a “supposed” racist (‘classist’ definitely). Having been the target of, and spectator to, someone’s racist rants, and having witnessed my fair share of trolls who get off on characterizing whoever they feel is beneath them, the warning signs are like a lighthouse beacon. I don’t have to hear the n-word to know how someone feels about me, or any person of color.
Oh, look at the time
When you find yourself being the only person who doesn’t resemble your surroundings, the thought of feeling alone can be overwhelming. Who can you turn to for support should a collective aggressor decide to take issue with your presence or use you as a target for unwelcome curiosity?
My approach when meeting strangers (specifically white strangers) is to not divulge too much about myself or be put in a vulnerable situation. I typically let said stranger guide the conversation — that is unless things go in an inappropriate or disrespectful direction, then “all bets are off.” In my experience, keeping the perceived threat level down to a minimum can result in a much easier interaction and superficial exchange which I’m usually happy to exit as quickly as possible.
I guess this tactic is a carry-over from when I was young and learned how to not upset the “white supremacy” apple cart.
To this day, I get uncomfortable in large crowds of all-white people — not knowing how I’ll be treated, if I’ll be viewed as a threat or object of curiosity, or if some look to put me in a self-constructed box of prejudice built long ago. This comes from years of experience interacting with many from the majority who only had self-interest and misguided curiosity in mind.
One would think I’d be used to this by now, growing up in a white space my entire life. To some degree I am. However, now and again the reality hits you from out of nowhere and you realize, shit… it’s just me alone here in a sea of foam. I hope I don’t run into Terry.
Thank you for reading!
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