Life in the Middle Lane

When I got to Georgia in mid-June, I decided to go to an employment agency for help finding a job.  Within twenty minutes, he asked me to show him my LinkedIn, which I did.  He, a black man, tsk-tsked and said that I should remove my picture from LinkedIn, Facebook and any other web presence because he didn’t want me to be looked over for a job because I’m black. He continued, “We are still in the south. You can’t be too careful.”

Uhm, excuse me? Does this world still exist? Call me crazy, but I didn’t think that is it would be useful or in my best interest to remove my gorgeous face from the internet. I mean, bottom line—if an employer doesn’t like my looks (for any reason) then that’s likely not a job I want to have.  And I was shocked and appalled to be receiving that piece of advice.

Then I start reading the NYT this morning and there are a series of articles on Prez Obama and whether race is an issue in terms of how he’s been treated during this Health Care debacle. And I think back to all the hateful thinks that I’ve heard and seen this summer during the tea parties that the Republicans have sponsored around the country.  They seem to attack his heritage as much as his policies. It makes me rethink my view of racism in America. Maybe it’s not dead like I thought. So I wonder, when will racism die in America?

Lately, I’ve seen pictures on Obama with defaced with a Hitler-ish mustache (which I think is the stupidest thing ever) and I hear that he’s being compared to Nazis, fascists and other dictators. (Again, these comparisons are illogical. Check your history, jackasses.) What are these protesters and other oppositionists thinking? These pictures just make them look as stupid as they sound.

Do they hate him because they really think that this Administration is being fiscally irresponsible (Seriously, where have this people been hiding for the past 8 years?!?!) Or do they hate him because he’s black?

Even contemplating that question makes me sad.

I hate everything about this stupid war in Iraq. And all the stupid articles about Iraq just make me angry.  My brother’s in Iraq for the 3^rd, count ‘em first, second, THIRD time. I mean, the second time he was over there, his HumVee got blown up, and his knee cap got BLOWN OFF. He’ll never walk without a limb. His first born child will be born in October, and he won’t be there. Twenty Four is TOO YOUNG to see the all the death that he’s seen. And I miss him, damn it.

I’m sick of every news report starting out with how many soldiers and marines died in Iraq. It’s TOO much. I want this war over now.  I’m all about diplomacy, but for fuck’s sake, just end it already!

I believe that humans are innately evil creatures. I believe that we do those things that are in our best interests.  When our behaviors are not aligned with our best interests, it is generally because social and cultural norms keep us all in line.  Social and cultural norms cause us to be polite to each other, tell the truth, share, and prevent us from robbing and killing each other at will. Everyone doesn’t conform to these norms.  Some people, for some reason, do not conform to those social and cultural norms because something STRONGER commands their actions.  The influence of other more strong-willed people, desperation and mental instability are three things that I’ve seen cause humans to behave in ways that would seem wrong or strange to most of us in our civilized society.

I was recently in the presence of someone who treated me very badly and falls, in my opinion, in the later catergory. In other words, she’s absolutely crazy.

A couple of weeks ago I traveled out to the Bay Area. Since I’m jobless and my bank account is limited, I arranged to spend the week with a friend of a friend.  I was excited that I wouldn’t have to worry about hotel expenses during the seven day trip.  My time with, let’s call her Gabbie, started out awesomely.  Gabbie welcomed me into her home, she allowed me to stay in her bedroom, and she even cleared a space for me on the vanity in the bathroom.   Wednesday, Thursday, Friday, and Saturday passed without a hitch.  Gabbie took it upon herself to show me around; she introduced me to a great bar and a great restaurant.  She went beyond normal politeness. I thought we were on the way to being friends.

Weekends in a new city are hard, and it was on Sunday that Gabbie’s cracks began to surface.  She asked me to leave the apartment for a while because she was expecting her girlfriend to visit; I was attending an event in San Francisco so I wasn’t concerned.  However, a snag in my plans made me text Gabbie to see if I could come back earlier than we arranged.  Her textual response? Maybe I should look for different arrangements because I was making her feel rushed.  I thought she was completely overreacting and  I was confused and concerned.   I didn’t have anywhere else to go, and I didn’t have the money for a hotel stay for the remainder of my trip. Luckily, I was able to talk to Gabbie and convince her to continue to let me stay.

After that episode I was worried that she would snap. I tried to be quiet and stay out of her way, I knew I only have three days left, I thought I would make it.  I thought I was doing a good job, until Tuesday morning when I awoke to find a note on thebathroom door telling me to get out of the apartment.  The note included a series of threats and false accusations. Gabbie accused me of scamming my way into her house, staying too long, and keeping her away from her “responsibilities”. Really, Gabbie?  There was no promise of reward or compensation in exchange for my lodging. I told her verbally and in writing how long I planned to stay (and she agreed verbally and in writing) and I even shared my flight itinerary.  I also left the apartment every morning and I only returned in the afternoon when Gabbie called me to tell me she was home. (Bad Monica, you scammer, you!)

I was so embarrassed and hurt by the note. And really confused because she rambled on for a while spewing hatred and negativity. I don’t know what I did to cause her to say such hateful and unnecessary things to me.  It would have been enough to just tell me to get out. Or to communicate with me about what her problem really was.

I didn’t have time to panic or cry or feel sorry for myself.  I had to pack all my stuff, find the cheapest hotel possible, and decide the day’s logistics because I had a lunch informational interview planned for later that day AND I had a series of interviews planned for the following day.  It was incredibly weird to have lunch with someone while carrying ALL my worldly possessions with me? And I knew I had to quickly get myself together if I was to be successful in my Wednesday interviews.

I didn’t have time to evaluate or express my feelings at the time.  I’ve spend the past few day s thinking, Why would she treat me like that? I am still so hurt and confused and PISSED OFF by Gabbie’s behavior.

Which brings me back to the beginning.  How Gabbie treated me was completely outside of cultural and societal norms. It was horrible. And she knew it was a horrible thing to do because she didn’t have the guts to face me like a woman.  She left me a note on the bathroom door, and told me specifically not to contact her anymore.  Sounds like a guilty conscience to me…. (or a person with a split personality)  Was allowing me in her house in the first place where Gabbie went wrong or was it when she kicked me out?  Did she invite me to stay with her out of politeness?   And kick me out because it was no longer in her best interest to adhere to the cultural norm? Did her girlfriend tell her to kick me out?

Whenever I try to figure out why people act the way they do, especially in these situations, I ask myself, Is it a matter of personal weakness, desperation or craziness?  In the case of Gabbie, you be the judge.  But I don’t think that it was a coincidence that one of the last things my sister says to me before I got on the plane was:  I hope she’s not a psycho.

Every since Jesse Helms died a few weeks ago I’ve wanted to write about it. His death reminds me that evil does die, sometimes it just takes a little longer than usual. His death means that there is a generation of people whose purpose in live seemed to revolve around the oppression and subjugation of others who are all dead or dying. Is it wrong that this makes me happy?

I mean, I’m southern and proud of it dammit (sometimes, at least) and I’ve lived in North Carolina for a number of years, so I’m quite familiar with Jesse; the homophobic, racist, asshole . I know a bit about his hatred of blacks and gays. I’ve heard for years about how strongly he opposed civil rights for Blacks and the way he killed a black man’s chance to be NC’s governor. I remember reading about how he reportedly said that NC should fence off Chapel Hill and call it a zoo (there are a large, active gay community in Chapel Hill). I know about this man who would quote Bible scriptures and condemn entire populations of people to death and hell in the same breath.

Needless to say, I want to give his dead corpse the finger and say good riddance (but that wouldn’t be nice) And unfortunately, there isn’t anything else that I could come up with to write that didn’t make me come off as a hateful bitch who didn’t care that someone had died. Since I’m trying to be a better person, I’m not allowed to be a hateful bitch, that would be stooping to his level, and that would take too much of my time.

Fortunately for me, I found this very tasteful and well-written article that expresses my sentiments on this subject much better than I can. Enjoy!

Would the train smell any better? LOL, probably not. I generally don’t smell like flowers in the afternoon because I do not wear deodorant and it’s hotter than hell in Atlanta. Yes, you read correctly. I do not wear deodorant, and I haven’t in years. But that is a story for another day.

But there are a lot of super stinky people on the train, and they all like to sit near me. But that’s not important. The important thing is that I see so many different types of people on the MARTA train. I try to create stories for them or figure out the kind of life they have and what they do for a living.

I people watch. Even though I always have a book (or three) and my ipod, when I’m on the train I prefer to look at the people. I don’t like to listen to them, gosh, listening to the really talkative people on the train gives me a headache.

I have ridden every train in Atlanta (not on purpose) and there are distinct types of people who ride each train. I normally ride the East-West Line to get to work every day. Last week, I had to ride the North line to drop my car at a long-term lot so I could go to my sis’s graduation. Later, to the airport I had to ride the South train. When I got back to NC and I had to pick up my car I accidentally got on the Northeast line and ended up in f*cking Doraville, which threw me about 45 minutes behind, by the way. Then I had to turn around and go back and get on my correct train.

So, because of my adventures in Atlanta, I know my trains, and I can identify the kinds of people that ride each train. The most pronounced difference is between the northern trains and all the others.

The northern trains (those coming from and heading to Dunwoody and Doraville) have lots of very professional-looking people. Lots of Asian people (computer geeks, my stereotypical guess), and young-ish and middle aged suburban, professional, middle and upper middle class, houses worth upwards of 250K, white commuters. Polos and pink and blue button downs, khakis, ladies in broaches and DKNY and men in golf clothes, wrinkled, sun-glassed and looking at me but not smiling back at me people. There are very few other minorities on these trains (unless they are getting off at one of the mall stops). Another huge difference on this train is that you have to sit beside someone on this train, it is always full and people expect you to slide over so they can sit with you. Which is cool, I’m just used to riding the East-West train.

On the other trains, I almost never let anyone sit with me, or sit with anyone else (unless it’s an old lady). I made the mistake of sitting beside someone during my first week in Atlanta, I thought the guy that I sat with was going to have a fit. On these trains, people would prefer to stand up rather than to sit beside someone else.

Also, the East-West and South trains are FULL of black people. All kinds of black people (and other people). Toothless, dirty, unclean, crazy, screaming, drunk, stinky, hippie, tattooed, and homeless people. Cool-looking artist/student types, wigs, weaves, locs, long and short, naturals, professionals, government workers, old ladies, flip flops, 3 inch heels, loafers, jellies, teenaged or just young looking mothers and babies (like, 5 babies), pretty boys, service workers, teenaged kids, poor people, middle-class commuters. All kinds.

The compelling thing isn’t who I see and what they look like, though I wish I could take pictures of them, seeing them could be so powerful. The very small ethical part of me can’t do it. Damn you, morality!!! Anyway, what is compelling is where all these people come from. All the people are coming into the city from their homes, and their homes are in distinctly different places.

One of the things that I hate about Atlanta is its size. Its huge and its sprawling. Atlanta is huge all by itself, and then when you add all the little suburban towns, the ATL metro is massive. Atlanta, like all large cities, has lots of black people, mostly poor, living in the inner city and most of the white people living in the suburbs.

This bothers me. I don’t care (too much) about where people live. What I care about is the differences in the school systems, crime rates, types of grocery stores, number of boarded up buildings, number of liquor stores, dirty streets, lack of grass, decent housing, graffittied walls.

Take a guess about where the better schools are, which has lower crime rates, who has the better, fresher produce and meat, which has more boarded up buildings and more rodents, where the streets are dirtier, who has the best greenspace, and where the better houses are (even the affordable ones)…..

Yep, I know. Exactly. And that’s what bothers me.