Hearing the News: A Noose on Her Office Door

In the 2.5 years it took me to complete my Masters degree at Columbia University, I'd never experienced a blatant racist act directed towards me while on campus. But this morning, as I brushed my teeth and tilted my ear, ready to listen to Good Morning America's upcoming segment on an act of racism at a prestigious university, the pang of shock and hurt I felt was all mine to own, as I heard the pain in the voice of Madonna Constantine, a professor at Columbia University, who'd found a noose hung on her office door.

I didn't need to enter my living room to watch the interview unfold. Her voice conveyed what this public and personal violation had meant to her, and for me turning off the faucet to clearly listen to her account of this hate crime, while I looked at my own reflection in the bathroom mirror was enough.

I can identify with Madonna Constantine as a Black woman in America whose success I am culturally proud of, and would seek to emulate in my own way. It scares me that this could happen at a place I've aligned myself, my resume, and my future professional career with--- A place I chose for its academic reputation.

Constantine explained her statement of feeling embarrassed to the interviewer and viewing public on GMA, but I got it completely. And in addition to embarrassment, I feel hopeless.

Despite the progress we've made in hundreds of years, from slave ships to the civil war, to Rosa Parks and the Million Man March, slavery and its evils are not forgotten and some things seem to never change.

As I slipped on my jacket this morning and grabbed my umbrella, I wondered if we'd always be second class citizens, Constantine and I. Her kids, my kids, the Rutgers women basketball players, the Jena 6, our grandkids. Where does it end?

I guess it doesn't. At least not in a time I shall ever see. I wish I could be wrong. But I don't think so. I wish Dr. King's dream could be actualized, but how can it when someone can callously hang a noose- the powerful symbol of death used to kill so many Black Americans before they had a chance to realize their dreams. Killed for being hungry, or being disobedient, or trying to run away and be with their families. Killed for being proud. Killed for being too strong or too smart. Killed for being shipped to this country like cattle from Africa. Killed for being born.

I'll never be allowed to forget how much I'm hated in this country for being Black, by people who like to hang nooses. I can climb the corporate ladder, Constantine can teach at the most prestigious university. We can become judges, golfers, talk show hosts, or democratic nominees - it doesn't matter.

Being Black in America still doesn't mean being equal.

Or at least that's how it feels today.

http://www.abcnews.go.com/GMA/Story?id=3716757&page=1