blending in

I do not know what it is like to be a dark skinned American, wondering every time a cop looks your way if you are going to be challenged, but I know what it is like to be a blind man and never know when someone is going to grab my arm and pull me off in a direction they think I want to go.  I know how it feels to arrive at an airport and never know if they will grab my cane or allow me to take it with me.  I know what it feels like to wonder, as I enter for a job interview, if the personnel officer will turn me away or give me the run around.  I know what it feels like to wait for my bus only to have it pass by me without even slowing down.  Or what it feels like to try to clamber into a cab and have the driver shriek at me to get my dog out.  I know what it feels like to be the only kid not chosen to play on either team on the play field.  I know the lonely feeling of sitting alone on the weekends while my school chums head off in their cars to pick up their dates. 

So I do understand just a little bit what it must feel like to not blend in with the crowd and always wonder if you are going to be cut out from the herd and hassled, or worse. 

 

Carl Jarvis

 

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