It's Still America

What perfect timing for this post that CNN is airing it's Black in America Extravaganza. I don't have a TV, so I'm not watching it, but I've heard mixed opinions. I'd like to see a tape sometime - maybe I should look for the clips online.

But of course, I am black and living in America. I don't need Soledad O'Brien or any of the official mouthpieces of the black experience to tell me what it means. I know what it means. I live it everyday.

This is particularly interesting this week as I've faced 2 reminders that not all of the US is like the quasi-racial-utopia that is Oakland and the parts of DC where I lived. That not all of the US or even the Bay Area realize that there can be rich black people. I grew up knowing this, but have become softened by a world where there are people of color in different socioeconomic positions is normal, where people don't look at me and assume that I'm poor or stealing, where my BAP-y-ness is accepted and respected.

So, last Saturday, I ventured to Walnut Creek to do a little shopping. I needed some hair product, so I ducked into Sephora hoping that this location (even with the low # of minorities) would carry Carol's Daughter. I was casual, but cute, brown cotton/silk sweater dress, jeweled flat sandals, big sunglasses, Fendi Spy bag on my shoulder, afro big and curly and held back with a headband - you know, Saturday afternoon chic. But I walk into Sephora and NO ONE can be bothered to help. It's a narrow store, but I didn't see the usual Carol's Daughter island. Remembering that the Bay Street location, also has CD in the back with hair products, I walk back - nothing. I do 2 or 3 laps around the store with my "lost" look on. Nothing. A few glances, but no help. Finally I approach a black-clad sales associate who tells me they don't carry Carol's Daughter but they do have a few items in the back, what did I need. Balm, Rosemary Shampoo, Hair Milk. She radios for one of the sales associates, who tells another sales associate something, then my girl walks away. In the meantime, I stroll back to the PhytoSpecific line thinking that if they even make an effort to sell it to me, I'll try it cause another customer had raved about it a few weeks ago. But no. The associate comes from the back with her arms full of a mish mosh of CD products - and only 1 thing is useful - hair milk. Sigh. I find out the the first associate is a manager. Still no one has tried to actually sell me anything. I say never mind, get a few more samples of Phyto and leave. Yesterday, at Bay Street, I learn that they could have shipped me my products for free.

Today, however, was worse. I had to go to the peninsula to drop off a mailing at the mail house. Being that close to JCrew, I decided to pop over to Stanford to get a few more pairs of flip flops (a recent obsession). I also wanted to drop into Banana Republic to pick up other styles of these shoes mom had sent me. I walk in the store, and being on a tight schedule, go straight to the shoes, pick one up and then look around - no one. I circle the store - still, no one. One more time (also trying to find the sale racks) no one. I check out the sale racks, see nothing, walk back up front and finally ask a desk clerk. Meanwhile, 5-6 associates have looked at me, and walked away or continued their conversations. One flat out made eye contact and then shifted it and turned. That same one, as I was talking to the desk associate with about 20 inches between us, WALKED BETWEEN US, forcing me to jump back to avoid being stepped on. Whoa. Uh. I'm not a small woman. I was wearing giant heeled wedges (from their store), making me darn near 6ft tall, bright green, big afro, and was dressed for work (so I definitely wasn't look schlubby) - you saw me. You made a concerted effort to walk over me. You're some sales associate at Banana Republic waiting on college kids from Stanford and various upper middle class women. You're making what? $10, $11 a hour. Not to be a bitch - but that's what I was making doing your job in college - come on chick. I'm shopping at your store, you work there. Yeah, she may have a rich husband at home, but let's assume she doesn't. And you just think you can walk on me???

But I guess this is still America. A black man is running for president, but a black woman still can't possibly earn you much commission. A former coworker asked me why I was still so cynical about the US in spite of Obama's candidacy, popularity, and success. This is why. Because him being president won't change the hearts and minds of the average white American. An Obama presidency promises many wonderful, great, shiny, bright, hopeful things, but it probably won't put a huge dent in the issues covered by Soledad O'Brien this week. It won't undo the centuries of ingrained hate and distrust amongst the races. It won't put more black women in magazines as models. Convince make up manufacturers other than MAC and Bobbi Brown to make foundation in more shades than "dark." It won't make pants that fit a bubble butt and solid thighs appear on the shelves. And it won't make bitches in stores provide me with the level of service that they would some PWT who has no money, but is white, so she must be right. I am hopeful for an Obama presidency and I know he'll do great things...

But at the end of the day, it'll still be America.