I’m not going to lie, the earlier wave of the pandemic period in the U.S. provided an awkward reprieve to the angst that emerged when we returned to the U.S. Yes, we have been cautious and sensitive to the risk factors associated with contracting COVID-19.

However, I felt like people were more focused on combating and avoiding a pandemic than putting my visible, melantated existence on their colorblind radar for future trial. Because, “how does it feel to be a problem?”

““It dawned upon me with a certain suddenness that I was different from the others; or like, mayhap, in heart and life and longing, but shut out from their world by a vast veil.””

— W.E.B. Du Bois

There was a new threat that superseded racial bias and didn’t target its victims based on race, income, education or employment. Oddly enough, and naively enough, I felt like I could breath a little easier. But that didn’t last long.

Being back in the U.S. requires me to wear an extra layer of vigilance. The veil was never lifted when we moved overseas; I continued to wear the weight of multiple consciousness. And let’s not forget the increased assault of Africans in China in the wake of the pandemic.

But returning to this environment, and especially when my family stands out like specks of pepper in a bowl of rice, means that we dance a well choreographed ballet number on eggshells while maintaining an upright posture of strained alertness.

““To be a Negro in this country and to be relatively conscious is to be in a rage almost all the time.””

— James Baldwin

Do I take my daughter out for a walk or remain shrouded in the privacy of our backyard where we don’t have to sift through the “White Gaze” or wonder if those “Trump 2020” yard signs are the new Confederate flag?

Do I think that this little American flag on the stroller keeps extra stares from turning into intense glares during family walks in the neighborhood?

And then there’s working out.

My husband is athletic and enjoys staying in shape. He always maxes out on his military fitness exams. He prioritizes fitness because it keeps him healthy, reduces his stress and boosts his mood.

Image courtesy of Reebok Spartan Race, 2014

Sound fitness reduces chronic disease risk and keeps him feeling and, not going to lie, looking good too! Plus, he is required to stay in shape to effectively serve in the military.

Yet, the very act of working out, getting fresh air and enjoying the neighborhood (that we call home) presents a measure of trepidation for me, his wife. While he’s not one to worry, I do.

Why?

Because he’s a runner. He enjoys 5K and 10K races and won a few medals in a few running events when we lived in Spain, which means he hits the pavement at a pretty good pace.

So, yes, I worry that an loose dog will go after him, or a reckless driver will miscalculate the distance and hit him, especially in seasons where it’s still dark out in the morning hours.

But more than anything, I honestly worry that someone will see him in our neighborhood, assume the worst and call the cops or take the law into their own hands because…racism.

“Because no one should have to think about that, at all. But too many of us do. ”

When we first moved to the area, opting to not live on base, I told him, “Babe, remember to always wear something military affiliated when you go work out, especially if you run in the neighborhood. Someone might see you, assume you’re “fleeing the scene” and because you’re a tall, Black, man in a predominantly white neighborhood, you’ll stand out. They don’t know you and won’t stop to think.”

My rationale was that the giant military seal or those block letters that spell out “NAVY” will catch their eye.

And this is where you pause to ask yourself, “why should anyone have to think about that when going for a run?”

Exactly! Because no one should have to think about that, at all. But too many of us do.

What’s so sad is that:

a) there are countless black and brown men and women who are not service members, who don’t have the “luxury” of wearing a Navy, Army, etc. branded sweat pants, or shirt to send the message that they’re in the military and;

b) I shouldn’t have to tell my husband to “protect” his identity in the very attire that he wears to communicate his commitment to protect the nation (because Military service is a 24/7 duty).

And I know that doesn’t wipe away the bias.

A few years back, I saw a video where a few Black service members in uniform were confronted at a restaurant by a white family (older parents and adult son). According to the article, a parking dispute, initiated by the white son, sparked a verbal altercation, which continued into the restaurant lobby.

One of the service members, who was pregnant, recorded the incident right as the white woman and her husband initiated assault by charging at the pregnant service member’s friend. Oh, and at least one of the women was an Officer. I mention that because racism and bigotry don’t care about rank.

Someone in the comment section on YouTube mentioned that, even if they didn’t know someone was pregnant, you would think the couple would at least see that the women were in uniform and respect that (because: #supportourtroops, #landofthefree, #patriot, #alllivesmatter right?).

But others were keen to remind us that Black folks have been serving in combat and fighting in U.S. wars for centuries, including the American Revolution, only to return to another type of war in their homeland.

And this post isn’t about the military, so I don’t want to give that impression or to distract from current events. This is about some of the outrageous things that some of us (primarily Black people) have to consider when walking out the door to face another day.

I don’t want to have to write about this stuff.

I’m tired of the BS: the COVID-19 case mortality disparities, the additional profiling that people of color have to consider when wearing a face mask to protect themselves from the virus, the increased attacks on Asian Americans in the wake of this disease.

Sometimes I wish I could ignore it, refine my vision board, mentally escape to a fun place I’ve visited or immerse myself in travel planning.

But silence is not my ministry and willful ignorance isn’t my calling. I wouldn’t be me if I didn’t address the madness. So if you prefer to only read travel tips or toddler mom hacks, and nothing else, or if you think I shouldn’t include some “real talk,” you might want to stop reading, unfollow and unsubscribe because I’m not going to stop.

Not when it comes to injustice. Not when I have 25 year old male cousins or when my husband regularly goes for a run. Not when the young man Ahmaud Arbery is dead because he was jogging while black.

Jogging My Memory