Every once and a while you have you have one of those days that tries you, one of those days where you think no amount of Bible verses, hallelujah’s, cute puppy’s, and baby yawns will calm you down. For me, Friday was just that. I felt like I was Job and Black Jesus was sitting in heaven, in his pre -jesus from sending down the plague. (sorry for all the Biblical references, I don’t mean to offend. I was raised in a Southern Baptist house so when I get upset I fall back on the Jesus talk. I’ll stop now in the interest of maintaining readership.) Anyway, Friday felt like it was an all out assault on my person. It started with my morning train ride, which is usually a mixed crowd but this morning the train was populated by white 20somethings. The only people of color were myself and two other teenaged Black boys on the other side of the train. They were sagging and had big hoodies, you know the stuff of nightmares for people who’s only encounters with Black folk have been through episodes of cops and the Wire. Needless to say, their presence on the train was stirring up some partial fear and over all feelings of uncomfortableness in the 20 somethings. There were nothing but stares and frowns (even some whispering) about the elephants in the room. Meanwhile, I guess I didn’t warrant any attention because I am not usually sagging and had on a polo shirt for work. When the two young Black men exited the train one guy smile and said another comment to his friend that I couldn’t hear over the Nas CD I decided to turn up so that the uncomfortable atmosphere could be enhanced. At work I had the pleasure of being condescended to by an old white womyn that decided she wanted to ignore the help I was giving her to talk on the phone in the middle of my sentence. She stopped her phone convo when one of my supervisors (who is white) came to the desk. I guess I couldn’t help her. The night ended with me listening to some Marxist friends of mine talk about the history of the Russian revolution. Normally I wouldn’t care and be fully engaged in the conversation, however, this night I became increasingly annoyed that European countries had a monopoly on the conversation about struggle as if, once again, the rest of the world had nothing to contribute. Sometimes, in the political circles I run in I feel as though there is a subconscious reproduction of the white supremacist education I endured for 12 years from elementary to high school. I say this in reference to the fact that all conversations usually begin and end with European struggle. I texted my friend, a Black organizer in Oakland, stating that I was going on a 7 day strike from white folk. Of course this was a joke, but it was a statement out of extreme frustration. I assume this happens with most people who are “othered” by society in one way or another and have to daily enter a larger society that doesn’t reflect or accept them as humans. Usually I brush off the fact that Black youth are mocked and gawked at in public, or that my intelligence is ignored or undermined at work but the tension sometimes builds and explodes. I try to quell it with thoughts about how people are products of socialization and that their attitudes are systematic problems that must be fought in the coming revolutionary struggle, and some days that line of thought isn’t enough. I don’t know where I’m going with this rant other than releasing it into the universe in hopes that I am renewed before the coming work week.