Bug

There’s a bad bug in our country, and I’ve seen it more than once.

It’s quiet, and it’s fearful, and it grows from month to month.

I see it on empty trains when a White woman pushes me “accidentally,” and if her friend notices she forces an “excuse me” gently.

I see it when I’m introduced by one White friend to theirs, there’s a look of disgust as they make sure no one is looking before they won’t even shake my hand.

There’s a bad bug in this country and it really packs a punch. And I’ve seen it. Boy, I’ve seen it. I’ve seen it more than once.

When White men hear what I do, refusing to look me in the eye, they pry about my education and if I had a full ride. Before quickly minimizing what I’ve accomplished, doing so with glee. And comment after comment makes me want to flee.

When a boy is murdered and it’s “let’s focus on something else. I think Friends is on. Now those are people that I’d like to help.”

When a Black girl is killed and it’s “well, if she would have only listened, then her blood wouldn’t sit there on the classroom floor gleaming as it glistens.”

There’s a bad bug in this country and it really packs a punch. It’s everywhere I go — at breakfast, dinner, lunch. When I go to an event, there’s a woman sitting there. And she turns around and smiles, twirling her fingers in her hair, and she looks at my two White friends, handing them her card, but to me in the middle she glances, looking as if I were a fraud.

There’s a bad bug in this country and it really packs a punch. And I’ve seen it. Boy, I’ve seen it. I’ve seen it more than once.

It’s ignoring when a Black woman screams in a Silicon Valley asking why she must choose between being safe or being sorry. It’s a struggling Mexican restaurant that prays for steps at the door, while down the street three White men in sombreros have so much business it becomes a chore.

There’s a bad bug in this country, and I’ve seen it more than once. It’s a thought. It’s a feeling. It’s a lie. It’s a hunch. It’s ignoring how we’ve been taught to believe that one is better than another. It’s a hatred when a White woman sees a Black woman doing better than others. It’s saying “Racists only lived long ago.” while stepping over Black bodies in the cold, hard snow.

There’s a bad bug in this country, and I’ve seen it more than once. And you? Have you seen it too? Do you have it? Does it punch?

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McKensie or Kingzie is a writer and strategist with a love for dope poetry and prose. A consultant by day and writer by night, she composes works about her experiences growing up on Chicago’s beautifully vibrant Southside. Follow her on Twitter @king_zie.