Hey there black guy!!Matthew Washington

It was pouring outside. The father embraced his first-born son under the exit of the ancient dorm. After saying goodbye to his teary-eyed mother and younger brother, the son quickly ran inside, soaking wet from the rain and tears, too, probably. 

Aside from the gloomy gray, it was a beautiful campus, really. The mountains stretched across, the air was crisp, and life bloomed all around. It was also home to a humongous mountain man named Yosef who, on a bad day, probably tells you to “go fuck yosef!” He seemed nice though. 

And speaking of nice, the rain stopped suddenly as the father, mother, and younger son made their way to their car in the dorm parking lot. 

“Thank you Jesus!” the father muttered under his breath.

Right next to the dorm their son was staying in was the football stadium. It was pretty big and most definitely took a huge amount out of the school’s budget each year. As a football fan himself, the father felt rather envious about his son’s placement at the dorm. He was so close to the action! He could practically smell it from here! 

Out of curiosity, the father decided he wanted to take a closer look at the stadium. 

“I’ll be right back y’all.” 

And so, he made his way on over. He stood as close as he could to it, snapping a few photos from various angles while he was at it. 

“Hey there black guy!!” 

Huh? The father looked around and tried to locate the origin of the voice. There was no one else here but him on this large and long sidewalk. All he knew was that it probably came from a white guy. It had to. It sounded like it. How old and who? Who knows? 

But who and why would someone say such a thing? So he has dark skin? Big fuckin’ deal. Perhaps if he had lavender skin, then such an outburst might have made more sense. But I’m black. I’m a black American. I’m just minding my own business like I always do.

And then came some memories. 

Memories like when he was a little boy in the seventies playing outside (minding his own business, mind you), and a white man drove by and gruffly shouted “nigger!” to his face.

Memories like when, in the nineties, he was on a grocery run (minding his own business, mind you), and a cop got up in his face and accused him of stealing, only stopping after his buddy intervened, saying we got him. He’s not the one.

Memories like … when Obama became president. Holy crap. A black man in the Oval Office. He wasn’t quite like the one from The Richard Pryor Show, but a historic moment nonetheless, eh? Oh how far we’ve come. Wait. How far have we come exactly? 2008 was about two decades ago, and yet, there were still killings and protestin’. 

Okay, not that far in some respects but hey, I’ve got Jesus! I’m a world-overcomer! I have nothing to fear! I have joy in my spirit! (somewhere in his mind, the choir was singing “Joy! Joyjoyjoy!” repeatedly).

And yet he felt off.

While alternating between what he felt he needed to believe and otherwise, he went back to the car. 

Before starting up the engine, he looked at the stadium for a few long seconds.

“Are you okay honey?” the mother asked. 

“Yeah. Let’s go home.” 

As he drove past the stadium, he began speaking in tongues.