If a look could truly kill a person, my girl would be the feature of a Dateline murder mystery.  Her side-eye can erase years of therapy and hours of self-esteem seminars.  So, my shoulders tightened and my red wine induced buzz evaporated when Tonya’s face transformed from a laughing “girl-you-so-crazy-look” look to a menacing “I’m about to go crazy on dis girl-look”. 

An older White man, wearing the ubiquitous wealthy White man’s uniform of khaki shorts and an over-priced polo shirt, accompanied by a much younger White woman approached our table smiling and chuckling as if we had all just shared a joke.

“You guys have been having a ball over here!  Where ya’ll from?  We are in from Texas.  Boy do we love Cabo!  It’s our three-year anniversary.  We got married here,” the man rattled while he swirled the ice in his drink.

Tonya glared.  Her look would have frozen these two like Medussa’s statues if their vision was not blurred by far too many margaritas.  I, through a tight smile, answered their questions quickly while praying silently, “go away, go away.”  I didn’t know why, but I could tell that they fully annoyed Tonya. 

Before too long, they affably stumbled away.

“White people always think that their presence is welcomed”, Tonya seethed, leaning across the table.

I sat quietly and volleyed the salt-shaker back and forth between my palms.

“How many times have you walked up to people you don’t know at a restaurant and just interrupted their dinner?”  She went on, “think about all the times that’s happened to us on girls’ nights.  Back in the day, when the kids were young, I swear, many times I’d be out with them and a White person felt the need to walk over to us to comment about ‘what well-behaved or good-looking children they were.’  I know that they thought they were being nice, but as it continued to happen, I began to wonder why they were evaluating me and my children, why they thought I cared about their opinion; and why they felt bold enough to share it.  I’ve never walked up to White parents to provide them with feedback about their children’s behavior,” she fumed.

I hadn’t ever thought about it before, but oftentimes when I was out with my girlfriends or when I was out with my family – we’d get comments –always unsolicited, and more often than not from a White person who seemed to think they were complimenting us.  It’s truly another form of entitlement – one that was so commonplace that the violation had not even registered with me.

While Black and White people have lived together in America for 400 years; for the most part, we’ve lived apart.  Most of us have had surface relationships with a person of a different race; or had a close relationship with only one or two people of a different race. Many of us don’t really know people different from us. And Black people have hidden the truest part of ourselves.

But, no more.  Black people are speaking up.   We are speaking out about annoyances that we have historically swallowed with brown liquor, behind-the-scenes conversations, and bitterness.  We are now asking for the same courtesies that we’ve been trained to extend since birth.  

Concurrently and admirably, many White people are trying to build bridges, listen to and form relationships with Black people.  They are well-meaning and earnest; trying to be open and to learn. But behind their efforts is still a belief, resultant of living in a country built on White Supremacy,  that their presence is always welcome. 

It’s not.  

While almost every Black person has had to justify their presence at some point in their lives (from grocery stores, to colleges, to nice department stores, to pools) most White people haven’t.  There are neighborhoods, restaurants, and entire states that Black people don’t frequent because they know that they aren’t welcome.  The feeling of unbelongingness is a quintessential and unescapable part of being Black in America. 

But White people, for the most part, haven’t learned that hesitation —the couple of beats that makes a person pause before going someplace, that halts a person from approaching strangers, from sharing their opinion and expecting it to be valued, or ensuring that their behavior is above reproach in public. Additionally, they have not experienced the strain that comes from being the “only” in many instances.

So, many White people – eager, well-intentioned but also equally uniformed – have been even more present. Black and White people have been protesting together, having more conversations, and making new policies. Many of us have been trying to make the world better – together. It’s been like teens when they first fall in-love: awkward, exhilarating, hopeful. 

So, it’s tough to tell the truth — the one that one of the teens in the new relationship will eventually text to the other – “I need some space.” White people will need to learn that their presence is not always welcome.  Just as a woman’s presence is not always welcome in the barbershop; a child is not welcome at the hotel bar, and a man may not be welcome during “girls’ night out” –  sometimes it’s just not the time and place for you — no matter how well-intentioned you are.

When Black-folks are laughing about ‘Karen’ it’s an inside joke. When we are bemoaning racism; we typically only want to hear Black people’s opinions or support (even when your opinion is in support of ours). Sometimes we just want it to be us, to exhale, to be fully relaxed.  White people have these spaces most of the time by default due to the nature of numbers. When we go to a “Black space” – virtually, physically, or mentally – it’s because we sometimes just need our space.  Being Black in America is hard – actually traumatic; and sometimes we, Black folks, need to be with those who truly get it—we need to be our own support group. 

Like with all relationships, love isn’t going to be enough. There will need to be new understandings (which won’t always be comfortable) and increased respect: respect for differences and for the need for space.