I was called a "Nigger" yesterday, for the first time in my adult life. I suppose I've been called one before, but never to my face, and certainly not in the presence of others. Last night at work, a coworker on her cigarette break helped a homeless guy out with some coffee and a salad. He thanked her, and shared his struggle with addiction and poverty. She vowed to help him out whenever she could and returned to work.

Five minutes later, he walks in, demanding cigarettes. I don't smoke, but neither coworker had any to spare. He then launched into a rant about it being up to me (yes, ME) to stop them, saying they were coming for us, that if I don't stop them, he would come back for...me. I still haven't grasped who they were. I brushed him off, assuming he was yet another Hollywood McCrazy to cross my path. I busied myself cleaning, my back to him, denying him my full attention.


When you hear "Nigger" thrown at you for the first time, a wave of emotions overtake you. confusionanticipationfearangerconfusion. It was like hearing your name shouted in a crowd, you pause, wait to hear it again, and decide which direction to go. I stopped cleaning, and stood up. Made eye contact with the approaching Black coworker. I wanted to ensure that (1) he just said what I think he just said and (2) what he just said was directed it toward me. He repeated:

"I gonna kill you de Nigger. You de Nigger gonna die!"

*deep sigh*

My two female coworkers stood to my left and my right, two (Black) guests sat in awe behind this man, watching the scene unfold. I said nothing. Our eyes locked: mine, steady, unblinking, calm. His were dilated and glassy, anger-filled. On he went.

"You de Nigger gonna be the first to go."

One coworker paused him, "Sir!"

I crossed my arms, and relaxed. He muttered on, though being asked to leave by my coworker. His glassy eyes fixed on mine while he threatened and berated me. He braced his hands on counter between us. I couldn't move. Could. Not. Fucking. Move. Coworker shouts at him to leave. I'm frozen, waiting for him to come across the counter or reach out to me. I prepared myself mentally to thrash him, but stood calmly.

He put his hand near a knife on the counter, and my coworker ran around the counter and chased him off. Fists balled, I couldn't move. Stone.

Black couple asks me if I'm alright. I nod. The woman mouths, "It's okay. You're alright."

I was alright physically, but I was enraged. I can't recall any singular incident that infuriated me this way in my entire adult life. I was just joking with Dad yesterday about my demeanor, how I don't yell, find fighting pointless, and rarely argue--I'm him. I am the most laid-back person ever. I love a debate, but avoid confrontation. I will tell you how I feel, but putting hands on one-another is...mostly primitive, I had decided. I have never given another human that power over me, making me stoop and scuffle in an attempt to get my point across. Why?

Last night though, as I stood motionless, hearing, seeing, and feeling what I heard, saw, and felt at that moment, I almost broke. After, I admitted that if he came across the counter at me, I would have pulled his motherfucking eyes out. I concluded that I had far more to lose than he did. So, he lives to suck that glass dick he worships and harass the next dude. He ultimately left, but the feeling stayed behind. Yes, he was likely under multiple influences, but the words stung just the same. Nigger. Short word, big punch.

We can pose as post-racial, and claim enlightenment and mourn the death of this word, but it is all in vain. The feelings attached can never be voided, shrugged off. I am not suggesting that we rally the troops and go off some fucking pigs, but a little awareness would go a long way among us. In all its colloquialized justifications, it's a horrible word. A loaded, blood-drenched word. That whole, "I can say it but if you do, I'll fucking kick your ass" schtick is tired and worn thin. A weak argument that defies logic. It says, "My ancestors have been brutalized on end, so I've earned the right to call my homie what they called us as we hung from tree branches."

Fuck outta here with that foolishness.

I don't even know what more can be said. I woke up, replaying the scene and my hands began trembling again. So, here I am, a grouchy Nigger who still has his freedom because I chose to be the bigger person. I'm proud that I held it together. I'm surprised I let him get me so close to the edge. I've never been struck or attacked verbally (especially by my parents), so the idea of doing either to another human is entirely foreign to me. Take from this what you will, I just needed to release it and be done with it.

Off to read and reflect I go.

Peace.

~chris.alexander

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