Challenge #8 Know Thyself

Listen to me read the story on YouTube or read it below:

This particular morning I woke up joyful, ready to manifest a wonderful day. I jumped out of bed and headed to the kitchen to make tea. It’s the only way to properly start any day. And this day needed to jump off well, considering it was the beginning of my vacation, and I always feel a little pressure to make sure that my vacations are wonderfully relaxing, which in all honesty, sometimes gets in the way of my reaching that goal.

My husband’s family was on their way from Leipzig to Munich for a visit. We planned to leave Munich the next day to head to the Alps and enjoy some relaxation, hiking and good food in the mountains. We decided to start our time together by grilling, so I headed to the supermarket to get us some food. I decided that since I was in the area I would stop by the drugstore to pick up a few things quickly.

As soon as I walked in I headed to the first aisle where the hand lotion stood, excited to collect the last few things I needed for my sister’s care package. I picked up the organic rose hand lotion, trying to decide whether to send her one or two, when I noticed a woman standing near me. She was short with strawberry blond hair. In her hands she held a shopping basket and, although surrounded by shelves of products, she seemed to be looking deep and intently into nowhere.

Due to Covid-19 we were all wearing masks and keeping our distance. I thought perhaps she also wanted to look at the lotions and was waiting for me to move on. So I finally decided to send two lotions, picked up a second one and moved farther down the aisle. To my surprise the woman did not move in to look at the lotions more closely, instead she also moved down the aisle, heading towards the hair products. I thought I must have misread the situation and didn’t think much more about it.

As I stopped to look at a few hair products, I noticed that the woman with the basket stopped as well. I stood for a while and finally chose to try out some new hair clips. I moved on with them in hand and noticed that the woman moved on as well. I laughed to myself and thought, “This woman seems to be following me.”

As people often do I second-guessed my intuition and continued to move about the aisle. As much as I tried to ignore it, the eeriness of the situation would not let me be. I have often been followed in Germany as well as America by civilians intrigued by my afro or skin color. I’ve been followed in stores and on trains. Once a security guard at a clothing store even came after me and grabbed me after I had already left the store. Feeling the fear rising, I decided to test whether she was actually following me, before letting the panic get the better of me.

As I moved towards to the shower products, I decided that I would stop there and have a look, although I didn’t need anything. I just wanted to see if she would also stop. Just as I had expected, she came around the corner and began looking at the deodorants. Slowly she turned towards me, forgetting about the deodorants, and just watched me for several minutes. I shivered.

I pulled out my cell phone and wrote my husband: “There is a woman following me.”

He answered immediately: “Should I call you?”

“Yeah.” I wrote back.

Just as I sent the last message, I saw her walk closer to me. My hands shaking, I turned to her and said as clearly and politely as possible, “Can I help you with something?”

“What should you be able to help me with?!” She shrieked. “Monkey!” Then her yelling turned into indistinct angry talk as she disappeared behind another shelf and slowly left that section of the store entirely.

Another shopper and I looked at each other shocked, neither one able to get a word out.

“Did she just call me a monkey?” I asked myself, thinking that something so absurd and hurtful could not have just happened to me on such a lovely day.

Slowly I turned away from the other shopper as she stood there still open-mouthed. I tried to calm myself and at that moment my husband called. 

I related the entire story and, with him on the phone, I moved to the front of the store, hoping that she had already left. Just as I was telling my husband that she may be a security guard undercover who thought that the only Black person in the store would surely steal something, I saw her emerge and speak to another employee. Then she turned and came towards me with an aggressive sneer, only to walk past me and disappear into the break room.

At this point I became angry at finding out that my Hollywood-like explanation of being followed by an undercover store employee was actually true. My heart was racing and immediately, I decided to speak to the cashier ringing up my items and tell her what had happened.

“Excuse me, I would like to report that one of your employees followed me through the entire store. She took a basket pretending to be a shopper and followed me around.” I said, full of anger, incredulity and pain.

“I can see you are upset.” She replied.

“Yes, I am, and when I asked politely whether there was something I could help her with she began berating and insulting me.”

“What’s going on?” A short woman with blond hair appeared. I recognized her as the store manager, who I had seen here and there throughout the 5 years that I had been shopping in that particular store.

“This woman is making a complaint. Mary* has been following her around the store.” The cashier explained.

“Aha,” the manager answered and without a word or look in my direction she also disappeared into the break room.

“Please wait here for a moment,” the cashier said.

Hurt by the manager’s lack of respect and interest I immediately replied: “I honestly don’t see how my waiting here will help the situation, and I do not want to have to interact with your employee again.”

“I’m so sorry you had to go through that. Please wait here,” the cashier insisted. So I waited although I was terribly uncomfortable. A crowd began to gather, all watching me. Some aware of what had happened and others doing their best to piece together the incomplete puzzle of information.

Moments later the employee who insulted me came rushing out of the break room. I backed up, thinking this is exactly what I did not want. She said goodbye to the cashier and wished her a nice evening, then she turned to me while reaching into her pocket. She pulled out a badge and in front of all who stood watching announced:

“I am the store detective. I was just doing my job and didn’t mean any harm.”

I interrupted her. “Then why did you berate and insult me?” I was thinking of her “monkey” comment.

Ignoring my question she turned towards the door and shouted over her shoulder, “If you don’t like it, then feel free to report it.”

I turned to the cashier, who was just as surprised as I was, and asked, “Now what was the purpose of that?” And left with everyone looking on.

I could hear the cashier calling for me to wait but I refused and left the store immediately. It seemed useless to me to stand there and discuss.

When Black people are killed while running away from or resisting the cops people often ask why they didn’t just comply. I cannot answer for all or even one of those persons lost, but I can tell you that it can be terrifying to live in a world with individuals who you know for sure see your skin color as a physical manifestation of guilt.

Sadly, this incident only happened days ago, and when I look back on that day and others like it, I have to fight feeling like no one cares. It can be maddening to be treated with indifference when you do your best to address the situation appropriately. 

Forgetting about the groceries I had intended to pick up, I walked home feeling nauseous and upset. I walked around the park near our home to cool off. Finally, I stopped and decided to send up a prayer for the security guard and the employees at the drugstore. It took every bit of goodness I could muster. Still, I sent positive, loving energy to each of the women I spoke to that day. And when the words stuck in my throat and I felt I could not continue, I reminded myself that forgiveness is freedom, and I choose to live a life free from all types of bondage. I finished my prayer and moved towards the apartment to meet my husband who had rushed out to meet me.

Some might consider it weak to forgive. Forgiveness, however, allows us to free ourselves from the poisonous burdens of bitterness, resentment, self-pity and hurt. It is difficult to avoid getting caught up in thinking that it would be so much easier to find the security guard guilty and to condemn her. That type of satisfaction is a short-lived illusion at best and eventually morphs into anger and unhappiness. It becomes difficult to heal because we are so preoccupied with picking at the wound. We get caught up in our stories. They wrap themselves around us, tripping us up and send us flying towards the ground.

In addition to my choice to forgive, I have taken action to make the drugstore executives aware of what I experienced in the store in the hopes of shielding others from such experiences. In reply I have received apologies from their service department via e-mail and telephone. Over the phone the service team lead expressed his apologies as well as underlined that their company is an inclusive organization that values all of its customers no matter ethnicity and creed.

He went on to explain that the woman is a security guard working for a company they had contracted in order to ensure that products were not flying off the shelves too quickly during the Covid-19 pandemic. He went on to say in a proud but also stern voice that the woman has been removed from her security position at the store and the security company she works for will no longer provide security services for their drugstores. All ties have been cut.  The national service team lead thanked me for my courage in speaking up and for mirroring the situation back to them so that they could take action.

To be honest I was somewhat surprised by this prompt, heart-felt and decisive response. When he quieted I thanked him for his kind words and for taking the painful and embarrassing situation so seriously. Often with racism people do not like to talk about it, let alone act. They prefer to sweep it under the carpet and hope no one will notice because it is so uncomfortable. What many perhaps do not realize is that it’s terribly and hurtfully uncomfortable for those who must experience it.

I explained to him that it was never my intention to cause someone to lose their job during a pandemic but having a person who has such unhealthy feelings and thoughts towards others in such a powerful position is dangerous and unwise. He heartily agreed and said it has no place in their stores to begin with. I bet when she turned around and encouraged me to file a complaint that she did not expect to lose her position at that store and cost her employer a contract with a Germany-wide drugstore chain.

Forgiveness does not mean that we must put ourselves in harm’s way and allow such things to happen again. Forgiveness is the ultimate form of self-love. Forgiveness means we can go about healing and finding solutions with dignity and power, knowing that only light can drive out darkness and someone else’s pain does not have to become our own.

In A Course In Miracles it is explained very clearly:

“Remember that those who attack are poor. Their poverty asks for gifts,

not for further impoverishment. You who could help them are surely acting

destructively if you accept their poverty as yours.”[1]

I do not accept her poverty as my own. Instead I chose to bring gifts and enrichment to the situation by drawing attention to the problem and being instrumental in bringing about a solution.

Challenges often give us the opportunity to see how much we have grown. With this situation I could acknowledge that, not just in word but also in my deeds, I have chosen to let go of allowing others to determine my self-worth. I now have taken assertive action to underline the truth: I know who I am.

[1] Schucman, H. (., & Thetford, W. T. (2009). Chapter 11: God’s Plan for Salvation. In Course in miracles – original edition text – pocket edition (p. 237). Omaha, NE: Course In Miracles Society

Challenge #5 Compassion in the Face of Racism