Running While Black: #IRunWithMaud
I am a runner.
A black runner.
I’ve always lived in areas with many apartment complexes, not really surrounded by houses. And for one reason or the other, I often run at community trails or parks. With a recent move to a predominantly white neighborhood, filled with houses, and not apartment complexes--I’ve found myself running through the back streets of my home, as Covid has forced me to take a pause from running at parks.
Before I had heard of the tragic reality...not just the “story” of Ahmaud Arbery… I knew him in some odd way. What I mean is: I quickly noticed my discomfort of running as a single black person through “white streets.” I noted how unsafe and un-secured I felt running, especially as I inquisitively peered at new, unfamiliar territory, street names, and homes, along my scenic runs in my new neighborhood.
I made an avid point to wave at my neighbors, so that I’d lessen their intrinsic fears about me. Most of them would wave back. Some would not, because they refused to see me. But for those who would wave back...I’d feel a bit safer...like *exhales* “okay...they won’t see me as a threat now.” I also noticed how I’d make it a point to “look” like a runner...have a water bottle in hand, headphones in, fanny pack on. Just so they’d know, without a shadow of a doubt, that I wasn’t just running through “their” streets...but I was in fact jogging, like they often do. I kept the same routes, so the same people would see me over and over again. My experience as a black person moving in this country programmed me to think this way, even well before I knew anything about Ahmaud.
Then we learned of Ahmaud Arbery. And my God, do I not have the words… I haven’t been able to watch the video. I don’t think I ever will. I’ve been watching a lot of news and reading a lot of commentary about it though. I know enough...not just about this case...but the state of our country, and all the horrific stories that came before his-- stories that created collective traumatic images and videos to remain plastered in my mind...in all of our minds. In the minds of people who courageously refuse to look away...and those of us who don’t have the privilege to even have the choice/agency to look away. Thank you to the people who have chosen not to look away--the people who never had any of these thoughts as they went for their regular runs: it is hard to confront privilege. And I genuinely commend people who do so. (This is why, as a College Professor, I have an entire unit of White Privilege--it's so important.) And I think we, as humanity, are better off as more people are willing to do that. To be frank, I am grateful to all people willing to do the work to remedy racism, race relations, white supremacy and privilege in this country...especially to white people. We need allies. I need allies.
So this morning, as I decided to go for an unusual early morning run...I decided to run on the main road, and not the back roads. And honestly, I might just stick to this route.
Because that is how I feel to be running the streets as a black woman: unprotected, dispensable, and literally a moving target. And if that’s how I feel as a black woman...God: I can’t imagine what our black men and boys must feel.
God, help us all.
God, help the people who look like me. And the people who don't.
God bless the life and legacy of Ahmaud Arbery. God, comfort all those who loved him, especially his warrior of a mother. She shouldn’t have to be a warrior though. Not like this.
God, help us all who are left changed because of him, and his tragic end.
May justice be served, and vengeance be Yours.
A black runner.
I’ve always lived in areas with many apartment complexes, not really surrounded by houses. And for one reason or the other, I often run at community trails or parks. With a recent move to a predominantly white neighborhood, filled with houses, and not apartment complexes--I’ve found myself running through the back streets of my home, as Covid has forced me to take a pause from running at parks.
Before I had heard of the tragic reality...not just the “story” of Ahmaud Arbery… I knew him in some odd way. What I mean is: I quickly noticed my discomfort of running as a single black person through “white streets.” I noted how unsafe and un-secured I felt running, especially as I inquisitively peered at new, unfamiliar territory, street names, and homes, along my scenic runs in my new neighborhood.
I made an avid point to wave at my neighbors, so that I’d lessen their intrinsic fears about me. Most of them would wave back. Some would not, because they refused to see me. But for those who would wave back...I’d feel a bit safer...like *exhales* “okay...they won’t see me as a threat now.” I also noticed how I’d make it a point to “look” like a runner...have a water bottle in hand, headphones in, fanny pack on. Just so they’d know, without a shadow of a doubt, that I wasn’t just running through “their” streets...but I was in fact jogging, like they often do. I kept the same routes, so the same people would see me over and over again. My experience as a black person moving in this country programmed me to think this way, even well before I knew anything about Ahmaud.
Then we learned of Ahmaud Arbery. And my God, do I not have the words… I haven’t been able to watch the video. I don’t think I ever will. I’ve been watching a lot of news and reading a lot of commentary about it though. I know enough...not just about this case...but the state of our country, and all the horrific stories that came before his-- stories that created collective traumatic images and videos to remain plastered in my mind...in all of our minds. In the minds of people who courageously refuse to look away...and those of us who don’t have the privilege to even have the choice/agency to look away. Thank you to the people who have chosen not to look away--the people who never had any of these thoughts as they went for their regular runs: it is hard to confront privilege. And I genuinely commend people who do so. (This is why, as a College Professor, I have an entire unit of White Privilege--it's so important.) And I think we, as humanity, are better off as more people are willing to do that. To be frank, I am grateful to all people willing to do the work to remedy racism, race relations, white supremacy and privilege in this country...especially to white people. We need allies. I need allies.
So this morning, as I decided to go for an unusual early morning run...I decided to run on the main road, and not the back roads. And honestly, I might just stick to this route.
Because that is how I feel to be running the streets as a black woman: unprotected, dispensable, and literally a moving target. And if that’s how I feel as a black woman...God: I can’t imagine what our black men and boys must feel.
God, help us all.
God, help the people who look like me. And the people who don't.
God bless the life and legacy of Ahmaud Arbery. God, comfort all those who loved him, especially his warrior of a mother. She shouldn’t have to be a warrior though. Not like this.
God, help us all who are left changed because of him, and his tragic end.
May justice be served, and vengeance be Yours.
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