April 17, 2023 “Do the Right Thing”

Why is it so hard to do the right thing? Not doing the right thing in one particular instance has haunted me to this day.

In at least a partial reversal of Spike Lee’s film, white people, especially in the early 90s, were unjustifiably overconcerned about speaking out when wrongs were committed right before their eyes by people of color. In my case, I failed to do the right thing at the local mall in the dead of winter during that time frame.

There was a Latino couple holding a white baby which had on no coat, no hat, and not even shoes on its feet, let alone socks. I was dumbstruck and followed the couple for a bit, all the while saying to myself, “Get security! Call the police!” Their eyes roved around the aisles constantly, on the lookout for trouble coming their way. They saw me and quickly disappeared into the crowd. To my unabating shame, I did not call anyone. I failed that baby, and society at large, by my inaction. I think about the baby still, and wonder what became of it.

In some instances, I have done the right thing, while all around me, others did nothing.

My Ex and I, sometime in the 80s, attended DePaul basketball games from time to time with another couple. After one game, we went to a Japanese restaurant for dinner. While waiting for our order, a huge Japanese man came in, behaving in a threatening manner to a waitress behind the counter. He started brandishing a set of num-chuks as soon as he cleared the door. Suddenly, he jumped over the counter and dragged the woman into the customer area and started beating her with them. Not a soul came to her defense. In a fraction of a second I realized no one would help her and I ran to him, swinging my purse at his head and connecting with it repeatedly. During my attack, a group of four young men, who had remained at their table doing nothing, suddenly rushed the man and wrestled him to the ground, then they sat on him until the police came.

The woman of the other couple ran out of the restaurant to call the police just as I made my move. Shamefully, my Ex did not try to help subdue this man but instead eventually pulled me off him. I was embarrassed by his actions and thought him a coward. Even more so when he complained that if I was going to attack him, I should have swung a chair instead of my purse. I wonder how he felt. Was he ashamed of himself, as he should have been?

The police came, but they did not do the right thing either because it turned out that this man and the waitress knew each other. He was merely ushered out of the place, but not arrested, by police. I do remember that after a while she went back to work even though she was shaking.

I am proud that I attacked that man. I can never be proud of what happened, or rather what did not happen, in the mall.

In my sophomore year of high school, 1970, Black Power was everywhere. In our English class, we had an ancient substitute one day. One black girl took advantage of his elderly status to repeatedly run up to the blackboard and write “I’m black and I’m proud.” I saw that the teacher was afraid to say anything. On her last trip back to her desk, I muttered, loud enough for her to hear, “You’re black and you’re rude.” I did the right thing: I admonished her. The next day, she came into the class and slapped me hard across the face.

I was taken to the school counselor’s office and was told that what I did was wrong and that I had to “make allowances” for that girl because of her upbringing or whatever. I was dumbfounded that what she did was not considered wrong, but what I did was wrong. I even had to apologize for it. The next day, that counselor brought us together in her office and I gave her a deadpan apology even though I was full of rage. To this day, I feel the fundamental injustice of what happened, not only to me but to that teacher. Decades later, I now see the infantilization of that girl through the teacher’s actions, which to me seems rooted in prejudice.

I was proud of doing the right thing when, during that same time frame, a black girl was driving through our neighborhood and the hood of her car suddenly flipped open, hitting the windshield. The noise was horrific, and immediately I came running. “Mr. White Guy” across the street was unfazed, and continued watering his bushes with a hose. She was terrified and kept telling me she could just keep driving while I kept telling her that was nonsense and dangerous. As I sharply, and repeatedly, told this insensitive jerk to go get a rope to tie down the hood, the girl was quaking and never stopped. After the repair was silently completed by Mr. White Guy, he turned his back and recommenced his previous activity. This poor girl never lifted her eyes to me the entire time, and was nearly in a state of shock as she drove away. She was so unnerved she could not even say “thank you” but I understood why and did not mind. I made a smart remark to the jerk before I returned to my house.

Going back to the 90s, I recall that one Saturday our family visited a small amusement park. While we waited in a long line for a ride, three black kids jumped the rope and thrust their way into a spot close to the front. Nearly all the people in line were white. No one said anything.

Of course, I had to. Going up to those kids saying something along the lines of “What do you think you’re doing?” gained me three shamed faces and an immediate retreat from the line. Several of the white people looked at me with astonishment. I merely wondered why the persons immediately impacted by their behavior did nothing.

Another time, there was a sale at a shoe store which promoted trade-ins for a discount on purchase. A middle-aged black woman of obviously limited means told a salesperson that she was entitled to a trade-in discount for the worn-out shoes she was wearing. The salesperson was confused about what to do and what to say. I think she eventually went to the manager for help. That time, I did not do the right thing. I did nothing. I wonder why?

This post concentrates on public cross-racial actions in which I have been involved. Of course, I do not fail to admonish white people when their language or behavior towards people of color is offensive, even if the targets of same are not present. Examples include calling out racial slurs, ethnic stereotypes and being disrespectful of non-Christian people. I continue to feel that it is the responsibility of each person in society to act whenever there is bigotry or injustice. Only when such bad behavior is consistently called out will we have a stable, respectful society that is safe for all people. The current era of right-wing hatred of the “other” deters people from following my example, even if they were inclined to do so. I am afraid sometimes and fail to do the right thing, which shames me.

I have never personally witnessed an instance of any other person conducting themselves in public the way that I have.

What are your thoughts: is it appropriate or presumptuous to call out bad behavior in public?