What Happens When Society Views You As A Threat

A memory floated in as I drove along the highway one day this week.

I was 14 years old, a freshman in high school, and excited. I probably had on a fresh pair of Reebox classics, uncreased, of course, because the local all-boys Catholic school, Essex Catholic, was having a party. And my friends and I were going.

When people hear the word Catholic school, I think they picture the private schools in movies full of rich teenagers living lavish lifestyles attending even wealthier, lavish schools.

Essex Catholic was not that, and the Catholic school I attended was not that either. They were working-class schools for working-class families. In my neighborhood, Essex Catholic was known as one of the beacons of hope for the working-class parents of black and brown boys who wanted to ensure their sons made it out of the hood with prospects of a brighter and better future.

As a teenager, I wasn’t thinking about all of that. My thoughts about Essex Catholic started and ended with the cute boys and the school’s legendary parties. And I was going.

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I remember arriving at the party. Somebody’s parents dropped us off with specific meet-up instructions for pick up afterward.

The party venue itself wasn’t anything special. There weren’t any decorations or signs. Instead, the school pushed all the chairs aside in the cafeteria or gym, hired a DJ, and turned out the lights.

That’s really all you need for a teen party. I was having the time of my life.

As the night went on, though, the number of teenagers at the party exploded. The crowd grew to the point where it was hard to move or breathe. At some point, there was a commotion; maybe there was a fight. My memory is hazy on that part, but what’s crystal clear is the pepper spray.

The police had been called to break up the party. They came in and yelled at us to leave. But because they felt the hoards of teens weren’t moving fast enough, they let the pepper spray fly.

Pepper spray. At a bunch of teenagers at a Catholic school party. I was 14. It was a reminder that black and brown bodies at any age are a threat.

I want to stop here. Too often, as women of color, we gloss over our past experiences with microaggressions, bullying, and outright racism without taking the time to truly acknowledge and feel the pain of those experiences to ourselves. I did that when I first remembered this story. But this experience wasn’t right for any of us that night.

So, I want to tell my younger self what I say to my coaching clients, “I’m sorry that happened to you. It wasn’t okay. You deserved better, so much better.”

This memory felt particularly significant that day in the car because I was driving to visit a potential preschool for my daughter. I was visiting the school based on the stellar recommendations it received from a Black Moms group.

By all accounts, the school would be inconvenient for my family. It’s not in my neighborhood or city, and the commute wouldn’t be great. Also, if I’m being practical, sending my daughter there when there are so many stellar preschools near my home, some even within walking distance, isn’t logical.

Yet we are still considering it because many of the preschools near my home aren’t diverse enough.

I know what it’s like when society views you as a threat at a young age. That point was driven home at that party. But I also know what it’s like to be the unspoken threat in predominantly white spaces.

No matter how well-meaning the school, program, or institution, inevitably, there will be microaggressions, bullying, and outright racism.

As an adult today, I can deal with the toll of that type of oppression, but for my daughter, in her formative years, I’m concerned about the effect of that abuse on her self-worth and confidence.

So it’s worth it to us to be a bit impractical and inconvenienced in picking a school for our daughter if it means she will be seen and valued for her diversity instead of bullied for it. I cannot control society, but I can control the intimate spaces that foster her growth and development.

I’m sharing these two stories today because I want you to know that you can change your behavior and how you interact with the world, even if the world hasn’t changed in the ways it should yet.

If you’re interested in exploring how your past experiences affect your choices today and what you can do differently, I would love to jump on a call with you.

In power and solidarity,

Toya