The Cost of Being Black

The letter “Racial Profiling on the Westside” about being stopped by a police officer for no apparent reason other than the writer being black reminded me of an encounter I had several years ago that has stuck with me and bothered me ever since.

I was having breakfast and reading the newspaper at McDonalds on Milpas Street, and as I was leaving, a black man, probably in his forties, asked if he could read the sports section, if I were done with it. It was in my truck, but I told him he could have it. He walked toward my truck as I left, but at a long distance behind me, and when I got to my truck, he had stopped quite a ways away. I walked back and gave him the paper.

I later puzzled over this encounter, thinking that had he been a white guy, he would have walked with me to the truck. Then I realized he had kept his distance for his own protection. He was probably concerned that if he came too close, I might become afraid and cause some kind of commotion that would bring in the police.