How Racism Reared Its Frizzy Head One Muggy Night In Martinique

She wanted NO parts of the sun, she lathered herself up with sunscreen, threw on a hat, lit a cig and read her book. Whether we were sunbathing or sunblocking, we had our beach time and this is exactly what I needed. Unfortunately, we decided to leave a bit earlier than intended, get on the road before sundown and tackle these hills in daylight.  When we arrived at the house, again the guys are outside and asked us to join them. “B” and I oblige, the friend is uninterested and wanted to lay down until dinner. Now that I’m back to wi-fi my “Tinderoni” has sent several messages and wants to meet tonight.

Introducing Tinderoni

I get extra cute for dinner, my dress, hair and makeup is on point! The restaurant is on the beach, the ambience and the food, amazing! As we’re sitting on the veranda having a nightcap, in walks “Tinderoni“. He’s even more handsome in person and his french accent… ooh la la, icing on the cake. I’m a very happy girl!  He’s pleasant, introduces himself to everyone, very personable, engaging and makes sure he includes the girls in our conversation. It’s getting late, as we’re wrapping up our nightcaps, but not wanting our date to end we opt to hang out a bit more alone or so we thought. “B” wants to tag along and fortunately (as usual) the friend is uninterested and wants to go back to the house.

* I hope I haven’t lost you. I had to give you some back story…

I’m getting to the juicy part*

We Start To Take A Slight Left

This is where the trip takes a turn. The three of us go to the casino and within a few seconds “B” is gone. GONE. She is a busy little “B”, a social butterfly that can’t keep still. Twenty minutes later she reappears and boldly asks “Tinderoni” if he knows where she can get some coke, as in COCAINE. He tells her no and just like that, she’s off again. I immediately apologize for her and then rambled on to distance my association with drug use. In my head, I’m literally cursing this girl the hell out, the NERVE of her?! If this is something you do, it’s your business but by all means do not involve me. The severe implications this could have caused and then let’s think about the racial undertones to this.

1. We don’t know “Tinderoni“
2. You’re a foreigner looking for drugs, locked up abroad is not a concern for her?
3. She’s white, I’m black. Who do you think will be guilty?

Luckily for her, she found what she was looking for. This “B” returns with Martinique’s version of Lil Wayne, he was just as short, the same knotty dreads and the same kind of dusty. “B” stated she WAS going back to Lil’s Wayne house to party and IF we wanted to come, we’re welcome to. I had two choices, 1. let her get her fix by herself and hope she returns to the house safely or 2. go with her. I turned to “Tinderoni” to discuss. I was certainly putting him in an uncomfortable position and he didn’t sign on for this. He stated the guy is a waiter at a nearby restaurant and relatively harmless. Nonetheless, I couldn’t live with myself if something happened to her, so we went.

A round of dominoes and a shot of rum later they excuse themselves and go in to the bedroom. Moments later she emerges with a smile on her face, then we leave. But in the car her mood changes and complains Lil Wayne was a piece of s#&@ for trying to touch her in the bedroom. I, in no way condone his behavior, but she contributed to his possible confusion and should be held accountable for her actions. It’s 3 am and you’ve agreed to go to a random strangers house, do drugs in their bedroom and you thought he would not attempt to hit on you? Are you this naive or dumb? It’s what I wanted to say, but I chose to not blow her high and let it go (red flag, big mistake).

The next morning, she’s in a funk and not her peppy self. Either she’s not a morning person and needs time to warm up (this is me, so I get it) or she’s embarrassed by last nights deeds and waiting for me to break the ice. I elected to wait her out and after she went to her stash (of you know what) she was back to normal and we’re off to lunch.

Tinderoni joins us, it’s Friday and we discuss going to a club later that evening. The friend is on her last day of antibiotics and doesn’t want to go, of course. Now that we’re getting dressed, we ask the friend again if she wants to go, true to form, her answer is no. So when we leave, she’s given Tinderoni’s number and to call if she changes her mind or needs us for anything.

We get to club #1, not even 2 minutes inside this “B” makes a beeline towards the bathroom. We wait several minutes and she doesn’t come out, I go inside and she’s not there. Somehow she has slipped by us and I have no idea where she is. We head to the bar and ten minutes later “B” returns with a drink in hand swaying to the sounds of Zouk. She asks if we’ll be right here and then poof, she’s gone again. This magic show went on for another hour until it’s time to head to club #2.

Once we;re away from the blaring music, Tinderoni realizes he has several missed calls and texts from the friend who stayed home. The last message was in distress, she wanted to know the number to call for an emergency.

Oh S#&@!

We call and she frantically answers, scared that she is going to be raped by the Swedish neighbors.  Huh? Wait, explain what happened so we can get to the bottom of this. In her choppy French translation, the guys offered her penis and she was petrified of their sexual advances. But this was nowhere near the case. This is what it boils down to, being polite they asked her to hang out because they knew she was home alone. When she declined, they asked if “B” was coming over later that night to sleep at their place and if so, they’d leave the door open.

*Back story*

The night prior, “B” slept at their place because they had a mosquito net and better wi-fi, so she says. So it was a yuuuuuge misunderstanding. Phew, problem diverted and we can continue on to club #2.

We get to club #2 and “B” does the same routine but this time I respond to it differently. I no longer care to look for her, I was done with the search and rescue missions. With “B’s” suspect movements and the friends foiled rape attempt, my night was consumed with the shenanigans of my travel mates and I was being very neglectful of  Tinderoni. He was a gem, never complained, went with the flow and in the midst of all of this, he was very attentive to me.  This man deserved some of my attention. An hour or so later, “B” reappears from Nowhere-In-This-Club Land, we quickly grab her before she escapes again and say let’s go!

The Incident

Tinderoni decides to give us a local tour of Fort de France before making our way to club #3. He’s weaving through tight winding streets, the city is lively, motorcycles are zooming by, you can hear pulsating Soca music in the distance and people packed into an open parking lot eating from street vendors. The three of us are now talking about club #3 and “B” asks if she will be the only white person there, because if she was, she didn’t want to go.

STOP… Let’s dissect this for a second

The level of entitlement and privilege for her to make such a request was insulting, cavalier and downright appalling.

LET’S RESUME…

The three of us are now talking about club #3 and “B” asks if she will be the only white person there, because if she was, she didn’t want to go. I’m .000002 seconds from off her ass, but being locked up abroad came to mind and it saved her life. I took the high road and asked her to explain what she meant, just in case I misunderstood what I heard. And boy did it get worse. She wanted to go to a club where the men wouldn’t be vying for her attention, their aggressiveness made her feel under duress and didn’t like the way they danced by gyrating and grinding their hips. Before I could respond, Tinderoni reassured her this club would be more international (in other words, more caucasian) and she’d enjoy it. I shot him a stern look, you know the look that says, we’ll discuss this later. But before I could address it, he pulled me aside and asked that I not bring her around him anymore. I don’t know if I was more insulted that he’d think I would after she just told two black people, she didn’t want to be around black people. Regardless, I was in total agreement. Hell, I didn’t even want to be around her but I was forced to endure her much longer than I intended.

When It Rains, It Snows

Snowstorm Jonas wreaked havoc on New York, blanketing the city with 3 feet of snow and our returning flight was delayed for an additional three days. Normally I would rejoice at this news, but this trip was going from bad to dreadful.  The friend was now off her meds and started drinking a bottle of Pinot before breakfast to make up for lost time. By dinner she went on a drunken rant that ended with…

Of course, the tears! She WAS blonde, tall, WAS pretty, WAS modelesque and WAS rich in her heyday (a good 20+ years ago). Now she IS just a shell of her former self to bragging about her savior complex of the hoods in Brooklyn to the former boyfriend who left her for a measly peasant who’s sub par to her in comparison. This eulogy could be heard from the last pew in the church. I was in no mood for it and offered her no sympathy or tithes.

“B” one ups her, talks of an old boyfriend who died of an overdosed, then the next boyfriend who recently dumped her is now engaged, although she has a new boyfriend she’s still in love with her ex and her stint in rehab. She swore us to secrecy, but again I was in no mood for it, I couldn’t muster the falsehood of offering an alliance, a truce or discretion.

It was a night of oversharing and I evoked my right to remain silent. This became an Iyanla Vanzant moment where family and friends finally let go of burdening deep dark secrets, but clearly these women were not my friends. We see the world differently, we don’t empathize the same. As a matter of fact, I remained silent for the duration of the trip as my coping to not choke a “B” mechanism. I finally finished Girl On The Train, spent time with Tinderoni and worked on my glazed almond tan. But some how, some way, choosing to keep my distance was bothersome to them and the source of tension in the house. It was implied in a roundabout way, If I cared, I’d ask them to elaborate, but I was unbothered and Kanye shrugged it off. I had totally disconnected and thought I went unnoticed.

I Cannot Win

If I snap, then I’m the angry black woman and the trip would really be ruined for everyone. So if I choose to make this a solo trip, for the sake of everyone, then let me be. Please. But again, it’s the entitlement of these two to think I should pretend to be enjoying their company, when I’ve uncovered “B’s” racism and have witnessed the friends bizzare behavior. I’ve had enough and it’s ok that I’ve had enough. I’m not asking them permission to express my feelings nor can they force me to “just get over it” or “move on” and act like nothing ever happened, all for their comfort. Why should I have to assimilate to make them feel at ease, when they’ve both done nothing but the exact opposite for me. I don’t have the luxury to make such demands nor would I, this only comes from those who believe you’re beneath them. And nah… I’m not over it. I have two more days in paradise and will make the best of it and I did, my way.

Back To Life. Back To Reality.

When we return to New York, we go our separate ways. Never to speak to the friend again and “B” is on an if-I-really-really-need-to-address-her-in-email status. I’ve kept her drug secret, but her racism I will not. When our boss noticed the change in our communication and asked what happened on the trip, I told her the condensed PG version.

It’s been a year since Martinique, unfortunately the Black Lives Matter movement has to exist for those to recognize we are humans too, #45 is in office with an Administration leading us into a possible nuclear war and back into the 1950’s at the same time. You’d think with the constant reminder of the challenges the U.S. has faced in the last years, she’d learn the error of her ways and change her marginalized thinking. But NOPE.

Sometimes You Just Have To Learn To Shut The Hell Up

I had the pleasure of hosting my company’s Christmas party and the theme was pure ratchetness, (still to this day, I can’t believe I was able to get away with it). It was a chicken and waffle dirty south trap day party, a mouth full right? Accompanied by a gold chain, grill wearing Santa, an open bar and 80% of 75 guests were my closest friends. Under the influence and I guess her better judgement “B” used this opportunity to address the elephant, the giraffe and basically Noah’s Ark in the room and wanted to be friends again. I told her it is not the time to talk, but before we could rekindle our friendship we must discuss Martinique. Immediately in defense, she says I’m not a racist. She could never be racist (and cue any bulls#@! excuse) and that when she lived in Paris she wouldn’t tell people she was Moroccan to avoid discrimination, so she knows what it’s like to be in my shoes. Still unmoved by her revelation, she promptly acquired onset amnesia and didn’t remember what she said but then adamantly denied and doubted she used “those” words exactly. I reminded her as the victim, her words are etched in my memory forever and I have text messages from Tinderoni to prove it. BUT this was a party and we’d need to rehash this another time, meaning when she was sober. BUT she just wouldn’t let it go, trying to right her wrongs, she headed into dangerous territory and fast. In between a few stumbles, she slurred Tinderoni was trying to impress me by acting like a hood “n” word by taking me to these ghetto places where unsavory characters hang out. She’d thought highly of him because he’d live in Paris, was cultured, well mannered and properly groomed, but was disappointed in his choices that evening.

Again, let’s stop to dissect this

She thinks being black is synonymous with hood, unsavory, ghetto and the “n” word.

She thinks French influence (colonizers) has brought culture and manners to the black and brown people of Martinique.

She thinks it is ok to say the “n” word without severe consequence 

I wish I could end this story with, I gave her a piece of mind, read her the riot act and she ran off in tears, returned to work with a sincere hand written apology, donated money to the charity of my choice, volunteered and did some community outreach all in an effort to get back in my good graces. But none of this happened. We ignored and avoided each other like the plague.

Quite frankly, there is no coming back from this, what else is there to say? Yes, I know she was drunk, but I also know she meant exactly what she said. And when people reveal who they are the first time, believe them!

As a black woman, this is a level of privilege I will never experience. This made me think of all of my travels and most of the times, I am the only black person in a room, on a bus, on a plane, at a restaurant and it’s yet to deter me from going anywhere or doing anything. Actually it’s never a thought, because I live with the hue of my skin everyday and I wear it like a badge of honor. I’ve grown accustomed to inquiring stares, finger pointing and my picture unwantedly being taken in foreign countries, but I will never be accustomed to the subtle micro-aggressions or passive alt-right ideologies from a colleague or anyone for that matter. She gets no more passes from me.

You See What I See

Life is so vivid and full of color. Instead of saying you don’t see color (which is a lie), just embrace it and admire it for its beauty!