| I have been loyal to Sunshine Daydreams and Mimosa on State Street. It matters that the people at both locations have been sincerely friendly and respectful over the year-and-a-half that I have lived in Madison. Many times I have stopped to talk with the owner of Mimosa and, at Sunshine, I have to crawl my way to the back of the store to select incense without the store management standing over my shoulders or stretching to watch me. These are places with good vibes -- great people! Recently, I have been impressed with the people who work at Cartridge World on East Spring Drive (East Mall). I am loyal to businesses where I am welcomed. I need to feel I am welcomed not just for my money, but welcomed as a Black woman, as a human being. You know when you feel welcomed someplace. The first time I went to Chazen Museum of Art, the guard followed me. I ignored him and proceeded to take in the art work, but I turned occasionally to note that he was still watching me as if I did not belong. I remember looking at this huge, really huge painting (well beyond my arm span) on the wall and wondering if he thought I could lift it and carry it out past him! When I returned to the museum with two White friends last month, I did not have any problems with the guards. A co-writer at the Black Commentator just wrote an article entitled, "Is it Wrong to Belong," in which she discussed this feeling of being un-welcome. On Halloween, she and her daughter dressed in costume for trick or treat. As they walked, the writer urged her daughter with "upbeat vibes of confidence" to "Go for it!" Mother and daughter jaunted from house to house, giddily received by adult neighbors. They left these homes hearing, "Goodnight" or "Have a nice night." But at one door, the evening's hilarity stopped. "Do you live in this subdivision?" The writer exchanged "pleasantries before moving on to the next house." But the question, "Do you live in this subdivision?" haunted her. "Most people wouldn't understand why, the next day," she writes, "I am seething about the question asked, my mind generating a variety of insolent comebacks that could have, should have taken place of my civilly clipped tongue and precise, sate parlance." The writer continues, "Why am I mad? It;s the little things. "It's the way things are said. It's what is spoken. It's the gaze that is exchanged." "It is the look of unwelcome surprise. It is the anticipation of engrained expectation. It is knowing they have fallen into the hype of a Black stereotype. It is the palpable disappointment when it is seen that I don't belong on Black Entertainment T.V." I read this article the next morning after I experienced a similar situation here in Madison. I had gone to bed vowing not to return to Capitol Foods store, the store I had been loyal to since I have been here and have spent more money than at any other location. I have recommended this store to others because I have felt comfortable in this store. At one point, two clerks were my ex-students. But I really liked all the staff and greeted them all as they greeted me. On this particularly late afternoon, however, I entered the store and the alarm went off! Looking toward the clerks, I did not see one friendly face. The customers, too, looked at me while one clerk at the register asked if I had something in my shoulder bag. Did I go to another store? And what? Take something from there, I said to myself. The faces seemed to agree. The past staff would have looked up, noticed me, one of their regular customers. I would have shrugged my shoulders or held open my bag as a gesture to indicate nothing and begin shopping. I did move on, but for the first time in this store, I felt like a thief. I had on my same winter coat, a black top and pants I have had for years. My same sneakers were on my feet. (Why should you have to look "moneyed" in order to be treated with respect?) Earlier, I had emptied my shoulder bag since I was on my way to see a film at the Dardanelles (another good-vibe place and great owner!). I picked up the items I came for and then, at customer service, asked to speak with the manager. While I waited, the same clerk, at a distance, asked me when did I purchase my coat! Capitol Foods hired young, White students or non-students in the past, but on this night, I saw WHITE: (a Black woman or a Black man, a store alarm, a White voice asking if I had something in my bag from another store, and White faces staring). It turned out that I had an old worn book with me and that set the alarm off. This morning, I called and spoke to the owner -- new owner as of November 4, 2007 -- of Capitol Foods. I spoke to him about how I felt for those 15 minutes or so in his store. He assured me that he would speak to his staff and check the alarm system. Attitudes and better communication skills can't change overnight. But I hope the new owner engages in dialogue for change with his staff. This will be a start. |
| Voice/Dr. Jean Daniels Friendly places |
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