Nine people, three Black and six white, gathered last month in a comfortable room around tables set up in a square, so we could see each other’s faces. Anxiety, like a hive of buzzing bees, swirled around our group. We were there to share our experiences of race and racial inequity.
We’ve been meeting together monthly since September as part of a Montgomery County Leadership program for recently retired leaders in various fields who are interested in giving back to their communities. Our superb facilitator had prepared us with guidelines for this difficult conversation, which enabled us to speak freely and feel safe while remaining mindful of other people’s vulnerabilities.
The morning began with paired sharing of personal race-related events experienced or observed. Marquise, 28, part of the Leadership Team and the only young member of our group, bravely volunteered to go first. He shared his story of being targeted by police on a hot summer evening in June 2023, after he and a friend had repaired his car brakes and were then relaxing and cooling off in his car. Suddenly, police cars with lights blazing pulled up next to him. Marquise explained that he was parked in front of his own home and had just fixed his own car. His license and registration were up-to-date, and he had an unblemished record.
Nevertheless, the cops ordered the two friends to step out of the car, despite their having done nothing wrong. The cops searched Marquise’s car and were about to impound it for no reason when the lone Black policeman spoke up persuasively in the friends’ defense. To Marquise’s relief, the cops drove off. But he was left rattled, upset, and angry. And he still is.
The significance of white privilege has never been more apparent to me.
When he told his story, Marquise teared up, as did many in our group. I thought how unlikely this would ever happen to me as a white woman. How privileged and cloistered a life I live! I am so grateful for Marquise’s courage in sharing such a deeply disturbing story with us. And for the realization that these injustices are commonplace in the lives of people of color, especially young Black men.
In a follow-up conversation, Marquise described how he handles situations when he’s pulled over unjustly, often harassed, and occasionally fined, unfairly. He was a criminal justice major at the University of Maryland and knows the law. But he cedes control and mutes his voice to avoid conflict, knowing that any argument will make matters worse. “My car could be impounded. I could be hauled into court. I’ve been pulled over many times and know this will continue to happen.”
He adds, “Black men can never win. Not here. Not anywhere in the world.”
I cannot imagine feeling such despair. I cannot imagine living as Marquise does, expecting that every time he turns on his car’s ignition and drives to any destination, he may be pulled over without cause. My biggest driving worries range from whether I need gas in my tank to whether I will find my destination. The significance of white privilege has never been more apparent to me.
Finally, I asked what Marquise’s wish is for how racism and racial inequity could be addressed:
“With honesty. It’s not a pleasant conversation for either Black or white people to have, nor is it an easy subject to broach, given the years of our nation’s history. I would prefer that racial inequities and disparities be acknowledged and then worked on, as no progress can be made when the historical context of our nation’s atrocities is hidden and ignored.”
Let’s do as Marquise suggests and learn to listen to each other with respect and compassion. And let’s speak out when harmful words are spoken.
— Patricia Steckler, Bethesda
