Want to Make a Black Man Less Threatening? Add Cake
The thing that makes my boyfriend “safe” in public spaces
My boyfriend is a black Peruvian. By Peruvian standards, he is tall. He has some build, or, how do I say it, he doesn’t look like he misses many meals.
People are afraid of him when he walks in the streets here in Lima. They stare. Men protectively hold their girlfriends closer. WTF?
People instinctively pat their cell phones. Stop mid-bite in their sandwiches. Let half-sentences hang in the air. You get the picture.
When he hails a taxi, the drivers look at him and say, “You’re not gonna rob me, are you?” What ever happened to “Good afternoon?”
The ride is anything but relaxing. He tries not to make sudden moves, or even look at his cellphone. Taxis might think he is coordinating an attack with his buddies at the arrival point.
When the ride ends without a scratch, my boyfriend hands over the money. The driver says, “Phew. I thought you were gonna rob me.” This has happened many times.
I talked to my brother who says cultural competence is pie in the sky. “We’re never gonna get it,” he says. I’m not so pessimistic, but I see his point. There are too many hurdles. With racism, it’s more like a triathlon. But there’s one thing that turns people around.
Cake.
When my boyfriend carries a cake in a cake box, the sun comes out. People smile at him like they’re sharing an inside joke. They nod, give him soft eyes. You can practically see butterflies and rainbows in the air. Danger is in the beholder's eye.
He’s still the same large, black man, but he carries a symbol of family. When people see him carrying the cake box, they probably picture him sitting at a table with his grandmother, chortling and passing the spaghetti and tea. I’m not sure. But people treat him completely differently.
Even on the bus. When we hopped on the bus, he was holding his cake box for Father’s Day. An elderly woman in the reserved seating said to her companion, “We should get up and give him a seat so his cake doesn’t fall.”
I guess deviants don’t eat cake. They’re partial to other goodies, like snails and puppy-dog tails. Or maybe pizza.
Peruvians love food. Food is love. So, when they see my boyfriend with cake, they are reminded of love.
I wish he didn’t have to dazzle people into treating him like just another guy. Do people need to find markers to prove the safety of a black person they see on the street? I wish the answer was no.
We joke he should walk around with an empty cake box. I can’t be buying cake every time we go outside.
Thanks for reading,