My First Time

Trigger Warning

My first time wasn’t marked by the fireworks or magic that movies often show us. There were no sparks, and no heartfelt conversations about boundaries. Instead, it all happened at a gas station, surrounded by strangers who stood in silence. I called my mother, shaking, and crying after it was all said and done. My first time is one that I’ll never forget regardless of how many times it has happened since. Not because it was special, but because I wasn’t prepared for how much it hurt.

The first time I was called a nigger, it felt as though the world itself had stopped. To some degree… mine did.

It’s a moment many of us mentally brace for as we grow older, and one I dread having to prepare my own children for someday. “If anyone ever crosses that line, stand your ground. Fight if you have to”. I had imagined my fists as the culmination of a decades-long struggle for equality, but when the moment finally came, I crumbled faster than a shattered dream.

It happened one night in North Carolina, just after finishing dinner at a restaurant. As I walked through the parking lot to leave, I noticed a woman with her car hood up - dead battery. In line with my usual lack of preparedness, I didn’t have jumper cables, but there was a gas station next door.

While standing in line, head pointed towards the cashier, a younger male behind me asked - “What are you looking at?” Finally realizing he was speaking to me, I replied, “Nothing, man. Just trying to buy jumper cables.” There were a few moments of silence then finally, I had completed my purchase and left the store. While walking back to our cars, the same voice from behind me, this time from the passenger seat of a grey Ford SUV, yelled “That's right. Better keep walking, nigger”. I’m not sure if it was fact that I stood still; it may have been that he sped off, but regardless, there were no piercing responses. There were no verbal or physical bricks thrown. There was nothing. I just froze. I fucking froze.

Listening to my mom try to steer me through the experience that hit me that day was nothing short of profound. Looking back though, the calm I found wasn't so much in the content of her words but it was just the sound of her voice—it’s what tethered me to a sense of normalcy, reminding me that I was still human. Her attempts at consoling me were something she clearly wasn’t prepared for. The reality is though, how does a parent begin to explain to their child that the depth of hatred they've seen is just a reflection of someone else’s ignorance? I guess that’s a question I’ll have to find the answer to when the time is right.

From parking lots, to online gaming lobbies, “just jokes” from those who have called themselves my friends, and even a dog I’ve met, named Nigger, I’ve lost count of how many times I’ve stood still, questioning what I’ve done to be deserving of this ignorance and hate. With time, I've come to understand that hate isn't always driven by reason or intention. Oftentimes, hate attempts to exist on its own - just as alone and isolated as it makes those who are on the receiving end of its “gifts”. Though there may be attempted arguments to justify its presence, hate on it’s own produces nothing of substance, and as such, it attempts to latch on to other emotions such as fear. Sometimes, it exists in silence , sitting at the core of one’s emotions, and we opt to call it ignorance. But as I walk through a supermarket, and a woman brings her children closer to her, or I’m asked if I still want the items I’m purchasing after being told the price, I can’t help but notice two things:

• These reactions don’t seem to exist as much for people who don’t look like me.
• I’ve started to change my own actions to accommodate the uneasiness of others:
• Place your hand(s) behind your back while you pass people, and their belongings. You don’t want anyone to think you’re stealing.
• Try not to walk out of this store too quickly. Again, you don’t want people to think you’re stealing.
• If possible, even though you might be walking in the same direction, let the person ahead of you get a bit further ahead. You don’t want anyone to think you’re going to rob them.
• Be careful with how you speak in public, and ensure to avoid using “slang” or terminology that might sound foreign. You don’t want anyone thinking that you’re a thug or a threat.

As these thoughts consistently loop through my head while I’m outdoors, they are also things that I’ll likely teach my children. And although I shouldn’t have to, I must recognize that they are lessons i’ve learned from my own experiences. Transparently, though I may not say it out loud, I’ve already started to instill these things and more within them; because there will be a day where they’ll need it.

Whether due to race, gender identity, sexuality, or even disability, we as humans have drifted so deeply into a space dominated by hate and fear, we’ve stopped asking very basic questions. Why do I feel the way I feel towards this person? What is their story - What is their experience? Do I have a valid reason to feel this way? Though we lean heavily into our varying cultures and socioeconomic classes, as we’ve stopped asking some of these questions for ourselves, we’ve allowed for others to provide their own answers and narratives that spread without the slightest bit of friction. Unchallenged, these thoughts and ideologies have spanned generations and crushed countless opportunities to learn from one another.

Rather than embracing our commonalities, we seldom commit to spending time to learn about the causes and history of others. We ignore who they are at their core, opting to leverage the surface to represent their entire plane of existence. I’m not asking anyone to let their guard down; on the contrary, I’m asking you to keep it up, but keep it raised and as disciplined as possible to keep unwarranted aversion out.

Watching my 10 and 2 year old boys grow, there is nothing in this world that will ever get me to believe that they are not beautiful. Unfortunately, due to the color of their skin, this world may not see them in the same light we will raise them to emit. Unfortunately, due to a multitude of reasons that ultimately resolve in who they are and who they will grow to be, they may face several similar dark roads. When the day comes that they stand before one of these paths, frozen, I may not have all of the answers, and I may not have all of the right words, but I can promise that I, their dad, will be there to help guide them through their first time… and each one after that.