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No Real Recourse For Discrimination

By Lora Harrington-Pride
Posted: 06/30/2024

My son was the Assistant Chief Engineer at a civic center and had 10 years on his job at the time of this incident.

       He and three of the men in his crew were having their lunch in the outside dining area of the building.  As they laughed and talked, the Chef, a man in his late 60s, and two women in the same age group were passing by when one of them dropped her purse spilling its contents on the ground.

       As the woman bent over from the waist, to gather her possessions, a gust of wind blew her dress up exposing her ample thighs and her ample buttocks covered in heavy cotton drawers.  Barely having noticed, the group of men continued their laughing and talking, when suddenly my son received a resounding slap across his face.

       My 6 foot, 200lb son stood up and incredulously asked the 5’8” elderly man, what was wrong with him, why did he slap him.

       The man, with his finger in my son’s face said, “Don’t you laugh at my wife.”

       My son said, “What are you talking about?  My men and I were laughing and talking amongst ourselves!  We were not laughing at anyone!”

       The Chef’s wife joined her husband, putting her finger in my son’s face and with narrowed eyes and a threatening voice, she said, to my son, “You’d better be careful, because he will hurt you!”  The other elderly woman got in my son’s face and said, “Yes, her husband will hurt you!”

       My son knew what he was facing in this situation from a table of laughing men; 2 Hispanics, 1 White, and 1 Black.  The Black man was singled out as the one laughing at this White woman, and her husband had to defend her honor.

       My son knew that if he slapped the man back, he’d have no defense.  My son was 40, this man was 60 plus.

       This man was 5’8”, he was 6”, but the most damning fact was, “This man was White and he was Black!”

       My son went to the Director of the civic center, a Black man, who could have passed for White, if his features were not those of a Black man.

The director said he’d look into it.  Within the next week the Chef was questioned, along with the other men who shared in the laughing table.

       It was decided that the Chef owed my son an apology.  An apology for something that would have cost my son his job, at the very least, if he had slapped the man back.

      Furthermore, my son was told to go to the Chef’s office to receive “the apology”.  When it was asked, “Why shouldn’t the Chef come to my office to give his apology?  The Director said, “Please, son, don’t make any waves.  Just take what you can get.”

       My son looked at him, realizing that the Director’s White skin, and his position gave him no more authority than what he, in his position had.  His was still a Black man.

       My son knocked on the Chef’s office door and was told to come in.  The Chef, at his desk, never looked up.  He shook a cigarette pack, offering one to my son, who declined.

       He was told to sit down.  My son said, “No thanks.”

       After the Chef took a long draw on his cigarette and blew a long string of smoke, he looked at my son and said, “I want you to forget about what happened the other day.”  My son said, “Is that all you have to say to me?”  The Chef said, “Yeah, that’s all.”  My son turned to leave, and the Chef said, “Here, take this pack of cigarettes,” as he tossed them across his desk, “I know you smoke.”  My son kept walking.