I'm NOT Scary

But some of you see me that way

Those who know me— like know me— are aware that every weekend I do my long runs, stopping to document pictures of the beauty (or humor) I pass along the way. It started as a mindfulness thing, something to incorporate my love of running and photography. This Saturday was different. This Saturday as I hit mile 9 on an insanely humid morning, I found myself running behind a white woman also on a run.

Why does their race matter? Well, it does in this because she did something I am pretty used to— she looked at me, made a face, and sprinted across the street to finish her run.

Now I know, and understand, there are very valid reasons women for those who identify as women to feel discomfort or fear when encountering men in the wild. I mean, I am team bear. But this isn’t that. At least how it feels because there were other men out on runs Saturday. White men— and she didn’t budge one bit. This isn’t new. I’m used to it. A lot of us men of color are. But what people may not know is this is conditioned behavior that started years ago and still manifests today. Presidential candidate and obvious safe spot for women, Donald Trump posted THIS on his Twitter knockoff social media site that same day:

All those darkies coming for your wives and daughters— vote for us and we can save them.

This idea, this perception, has permeated into the very fabric of society. And it sucks. There is a term for it, pretty spot on— Sexual Racism.

And sexual racism was used both before and after slavery to demean Black bodies and ensure we were kept in our place in society, even when freed. In the early 19th century, the idea of the Black man rapist took off.

During this period, the dominant portrayal of black and brown males was a brutal savage, animalistic, criminal— who deserved punishment like death. We were painted as the menace to society, hideous creatures who are genetically predisposed as predators of innocent white women.

This was further embedded into LAWS. Colonies of the US and then the states that followed outlawed sex and/or relationships of any kind between the races. These anti-miscegenation laws were enshrined to ‘protect white women’ and keep the races pure. Lawyer and racial scholar Derrick Bell has discussed this at length and I learned so much in my Race & Law class based on his books. But the top line analysis is this—

…the legal pronouncements in the statutes that labeled interracial sex as a "disgrace" that would result in "spurious issue", reinforced colonial perceptions that Blacks had a "beastly" sexuality…

These laws popped up everywhere and were expanded upon. There were fake studies and scientific “analysis” that Black men were born as sexual deviants who were insatiable and predisposed to white women… what?

But nevertheless, this nonsense persisted. And just to see one of those laws— look at Virginia:

This and other similar laws were not repealed until almost the 70’s…so not that long ago and still in the minds of many and what they pass down to their kids.

And it isn’t just about the perceptions of white women or women in general. These views of us as barbaric animals morphed to also be used to justify the unlawful killing of us by police. The disproportionate incarceration rates. It all is connected because if you paint us as animals— what is the value of our lives when you take it or put us in cages? Who cares then?

There is a lot that can be said about all of this, but really just want to say WHY I even want to share this. This feeling sucks. We can feel it when you look at us on the street or in the elevator. It also makes it harder to do anything because unlike others, we don’t have the benefit of the doubt when anyone makes up something about us. It’s like— yeah that tracks— when anyone says something. But I also want people on the other side of it to be aware. Many white women may have no idea they are doing it or why they have that unconscious and subtle discontent. Doesn’t make us feel any better though.

So when you see me, or someone like me, out on a run or a walk at 8am in broad daylight, don’t assume you have to sprint across the street. I promise, I’m not scary.