The Bridge to Freedom

By

Cheryl Robinson

Have We Crossed the Bridge to Freedom?

I wish as a black woman that I never had to think about race and that the unfair treatment that I experience in the world and particularly in the workplace had absolutely nothing to do with the color of my skin or even my gender. I wish that were the case because this is how many Americans, even some blacks, would like to perceive a reality that just is not true, at least not yet.

Why do I say that?

If race was not still an issue in this country then the possibility of having our first black President  would not seem far-fetched to anyone, including blacks.

But when the year is 2008 and an older white man from Georgia can refer to me as a ‘Gal,’ then I know not much has changed. And for those of you who are not from the South and who may not know this, calling a black woman a gal is equivalent to calling a black man a boy. It is a very derogatory term with deep rooted meaning.

I went on a business call in the Jacksonville, Florida area and a white male manager asked me if I knew the Negro who worked there–the year was 2006.

I am faced with racism and sexism in a corporate environment almost daily, and I know I am not alone. It is particularly challenging in that my customer base, which is mostly male and mostly white, hale mainly from the South and many from the rural South.  I have been told by one of my customers, in response to him learning that I was going to come to his area and visit some of my customer base, that I may want to reconsider. “Not sure if you want to do that.  This is redneck country&good old boys. You might wind up missing.” I laughed assuming it was a joke, but I did not hear him laughing back so I said, “Are you serious?” He said, “Very! I just want to give you a heads up. Not much has changed down here.” Then it all clicked.  It had been a year since I had started working in that territory and management was in no rush to send me down there. I had been sent to Atlanta, Georgia early on and on several occasions, but never rural Alabama.

I have been called retarded by a customer and keep in mind, while I never mention the industry I work in or the job that I do, I will say the customer base is comprised of a group of people who would represent consumers and in my capacity I am somewhat of a liaison. So I am not dealing with the general public but rather representatives of a particular business that consumers would do business with. And even though, my manager stated that he did not  tolerate any of his employees being belittled, when the call was forwarded to him, after the customer refused to speak with me any longer and I told my manager the reference he used toward me, he never once addressed it to him. How do I know? Because my manager’s cubicle is directly across from mine and I heard every word.  However, I have heard my manager come to the defense of my white male counterparts on several occasions when dealing with their customers. Keep in mind that I work in an office environment with few blacks and even fewer black men–less than one percent. By the end of the conversation, the customer who had called me retarded was referred to as my manager’s buddy and they were laughing and joking with each other before they hung up.

And now, for the last example, a white man, also a customer told management that under no circumstances was I to ever work on any of his accounts.  He did not care if I was the only person working in the department at night and his business had to sit untouched until someone else could assist him. Someone in a leadership position relayed the message to me and also said to me in front of my direct manager and one other person standing near us, “He hates her. It has nothing to do with business. This is personal. He just hates her. He’s told me that he hates her.” I must say that I was so glad to accommodate that customer’s request because I was growing tired of him pulling up my web site every time he talked to me on the phone about business and making reference to the fullness of my lips and saying that I had lips like Angelina Jolie.  I have lips like Angelina Jolie? When he attempted to cross the line, I would quickly put him in his place. I knew he did not like that. Nor did he like the fact that when he would say, “Tell me that you love me.” I not only would not tell a man that I did not love and had never seen before that I loved him, but I told him he was being disrespectful to both me and to his wife. In retaliation, the first opportunity he saw to complain about me he took.

I could continue on with many more examples and end up writing a book, but my point is that while those who came before us have helped us tremendously in so many ways ,open so many doors and afford us with opportunities that they could only dream of, it is now our responsibility to keep not only hope alive but the dream as well.  As Black Americans, I believe we need to continue to support one another, and in no way tear each other down. We need to embrace a spirit of diversity even when we are faced with unfair treatment because it was not  only blacks who marched with Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. There are good people of all races and ignorant ones of all races also.  But we must rise above ignorance and always fight for equality.

I have a dream. It is the same dream that Dr. Mr. Luther King, Jr. had and many others.  And it is a dream that I hope I will live long enough to see realized.

Cheryl Robinson is the author of If It Ain’t One Thing, It’s Like That, and contributor to the anthology, These Are My Confessions with her anthology entitled Strapped.  Her latest novel, Sweet Georgia Brown, is available wherever books are sold. For more information visit www.cherylrobinson.com

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