"Will you wipe me clean? The question that rocked my core

I’ve sat down and tried writing about this for two weeks but to no avail. The tears always started to flow. So perhaps in this case the third time will be the charm. I don’t consider myself to be confrontational, nor do I think of myself as an activist. I definitely don’t like seeing other people being mistreated though. People would say I’m normally the peacemaker. I am queen of giving people the benefit of the doubt. Speaking up for myself is a rarity, which is changing as I continue to grow. I usually just brush things off or don’t recognize the severity of whatever encounter I experienced.  All of that changed February 17, 2018.

This day started like any other Saturday. I was awake early, mind racing, going through which bills needed to be paid, and preparing to celebrate my grandma’s 94^th birthday later that day; while really wanting to go back to sleep. It was forecasted to rain all day so I decided to use the 1^st part of the day as a lazy day, I had originally planned to go see Black Panther, but opted to wait. Eventually I left my apartment to run an errand or two. The rain was minimal to none at this point.  I reached my destination. As I entered, it sounded like a Justin Beiber song was playing over the loudspeaker. I entered the restroom and there was a middle aged Caucasian lady at the end of the sink washing her hands, she looked to be maybe 40+ years old. She noticed me and smiled and we both said good morning, I walked in further to go where the stalls were located. As I stepped to the area where the stalls were there was an older lady perhaps in her 60’s or 70’s maybe even 80s standing in the open space, forming what would be the beginning of a line. She was the only one there. Her face reminded me of the actress who portrayed the grown Rose from the movie Titanic, but with a darker aura, dark brown hair, and brown eyes. She was using those walkers with the seat and wheels on it to stand.  Ok moving on. The lady looked back, I’m assuming because she heard me speak to the other lady. Our eyes locked and I said good morning to her as well. She spoke and smiled, but at the same time she grabbed me by my arm. I pulled back. She reached again trying to grab my arm only to barely get her fingertips on the sleeve of my coat. She never stopped looking me in my eyes. The smirk/smile whatever you want to call it never left. She insisted that she needed to ask me something. I said ok, but stepped back so wasn’t touching me.

This lady said. “If I go into one of these stalls, will you wipe me clean?” Now again, I’m not confrontational. I don’t go around thinking people intentionally do me wrong. And above all I respect my elders, BUT THIS!!!!!! I was so caught off guard. The only thing I could muster was an emphatic “WHAT YOU SAY?” To which she repeated with an explanation:” I really have to go and someone is in the handicap stall, so if I use one of these stalls, will you help clean me, wipe me clean? This time only thing I said/asked was “didn’t someone come with you?” Before she could answer some other women came in and were questioning if there was a line. I said no, this lady is waiting on the handicap stall. The lady said “you’d think they would’ve had more than one. I said, “You’d think.” By this time the occupant of the handicap stall exited. The lady looked at me with the same smile and said “never mind” and walked away.

The more this replayed in my mind as I ran my errands, the more disturbed I was. The emotions I experienced that day and since have been all over the place. I really was caught off guard. Part of me wanted to ask did you ask the other lady to help you. Part of me felt a form of rage. Part of me felt like I was being punked. Part of me is still stunned.  I can’t say what anyone reading this may say or think of my reaction to this situation. All I know is my life at this time hasn’t been the same since. I don’t know what to call it.  I’m not a fan of labels and titles although I know they exist. I’m typically not a black vs white person and I don’t plan on starting to be.  What I don’t understand is how and why an old Caucasian lady felt it was okay to ask anyone, me, a stranger, African American no less, to wipe her clean. As I sit here, tears flowing again, 2 weeks later, have no idea where to go from here. What do I do about these feelings? And how do I continue to live my life, as complicated as it has been, in the process of being renewed, without side-eying every comment, every action, every insinuation, every nuance because of my 1^st conscious encounter with what some would say was racism or a form of it or perhaps it was just ignorance?