Treatment by Pigmentation

I find night the best time for me to write. My mind is full of the previous day's events. I've had an opportunity to digest the news of that day and anticipate on what could be coming. Having insomnia is a both a blessing and curse.

Treatment by pigmentation. I've seen more of that lately than I would like to in this city I have grown to love. The old adage "the darker the skin, the denser the brain" does not and should not ever had applied. But it did. And now it still does. We have a wonderful president in office whose heritage is close to my own. People look at him and they are frightened of the change that is coming. One day, being black won't matter. But that day is not today.

Racial profiling exists. Judges make decisions before listening to defense arguments. And often after hearing the defense, they still take a look at the defendent and pronounce him/her guilty. There are still more black people shown in handcuffs, being arrested, committing some crime than their white counterparts. The impressions are subliminal, but they are still there. They have been playing in our heads for so long that for a great deal of non-melanin carrying people believes them.

It is this very treatment by pigmentation that has caused the civil inequalities and violation of civil liberties in Oklahoma City. When I enter the branch of my bank, I feel the eyes on me, following me; watch me to see what I do. Checking to see if my purse is going to sit on the floor while I complete my business. The guard stands at an alert that looks nearly military. He doesn't notice that I've noticed the clip on his holster has been removed. Yet every bank job in my neighborhood was not held by people like me. In fact, very little happens by people like me. The police presence is too forceful. We have been contained by the external forces for far too long. We still know the "step and shuffle". I still hear grown men " boy". It's still the same, only now we're politically correct. No longer do we call it racial profiling, we call it neighborhood safety.

Every young black man is treated like a drug dealer or thug. Black women are all welfare mothers whose children all have different fathers. No one gets married- EVER. There is a growing apathy here that his sort of behavior is the norm. My children, growing up in a two parent family, religiously minded, who don't drink or smoke is somewhat of an oddity.

And yet the people that would have me write for them, would have me talk about this booming metropolis as though it's Mayberry. Nothing ever happens here; we all hold hands and sing Kumbaya. Some do, but many of us don't know or don't remember the words. Most of us just stopped caring a long time ago. So I spend my days now, looking for good news to tell you all about Oklahoma. I read the papers, watch the new. I venture out with my Canon on particularly nice days so that I can pictures of the fountains and parts and unusual buildings only to be stopped by the police that I have to show my credentials and not just casing the neighborhood. How can I be 46 and not have any felonies AND be black? The officers seemed perplexed.

I have faith that one day we will live up to the dream of an America for everybody. I know it's going to happen. I just think it's going to be later than sooner.