I usually get my groceries delivered, but I needed supplies for cupcakes right away. I steeled myself to go to the Giant at Brentwood Plaza, which is the most grueling experience dealing with all sorts of leering trolls.
In front of the entrance to Giant, this old man was hanging out catching the breeze with his buddies…and harassing women.
“Hi, my beautiful Nubian sista,” he said. Gross. And he was old enough to be my father. How would he like it if he had a daughter my age and men were leering and ogling at her?! He wouldn’t like it much!
“I am not your sista!” I coldly responded. He didn’t like my response. He automatically assumed that because we’re both Black that I should have an automatic kinship with him. How wrong he was. And because I rejected him, he had words for me as I entered the store.
“Who are you a sista to?” he asked. “The White man?! You White bitch devil worshipper you! Sellout!”
Hard as it was, I ignored his racist junk and kept on going into the store.
Thirty minutes later, I exit, and this guy is still hanging out there. This time I had pulled my phone out and snapped his photo (he’s the one in the black and white shirt).
“Why don’t you want to accept you’re a sista?” he asked.
“Why do you assume that because I’m Black that I’d want anything to do with you?” I asked. He just couldn’t fathom I wanted to be left alone.
“You need help,” he said. “You need to go to St. Elizabeth’s in Southeast for your mental problems,” he said.
“And you need to leave women who don’t want to be bothered alone,” I responded, in a calm tone. Even though he was still throwing venom my way, I somehow managed to remain calm.
“I’ll pray for you, sista!” he said to the back of my head as I continued the long walk home.
Further out of the plaza, I encountered a group of day laborers (who were doing more lounging than laboring). “Hey, baby!” they said in unison.
“Good grief,” I said with a sigh, attempting to snap their photos. I caught the one from behind (he turned when I took the photo), and the others were hiding in the bushes in the second photo.
It’s hard to tell in the second photo, but if you look closely the guy on the left is holding out his cell phone trying to take his photo of me! Scary! I am so afraid of what he’ll do with my photo.
The rest of my walk home was hard, because I was carrying heavy groceries, but it would’ve been a lot easier had I not have had to deal with being harassed by dummies.
Location: Brentwood Plaza, NE
Submitted by Anonymous
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