The First Ladies

by Marie Benedict

“If you knew those women were going to behave this way, then why did you agree to attend this luncheon?” Her expression is earnest, and in truth, I’m surprised by her frank question. “I was invited. And even though I anticipated their reaction, their racism isn’t my problem. Racism belongs to the people who are racists.”

We don’t need white people to save us; we just need white people to be fair and enact laws that guarantee equality.”

It is insane that two white men—who probably have no more than a grade school education—think they can tell my grandson, a young boy who has played with the Rockefeller children and traveled with me throughout this country, that he’s not worthy of sharing God’s creation. Do they believe that God gave the ocean to white people only?

“One day, you’ll be scrutinized and scorned, and the next, you’ll be celebrated and lauded. Sometimes by the very same people. You will not be able to control the narrative, but you can act according to your conscience, particularly in your personal life. And at the end of the day, that should be the only measure that matters.”

Union Station is buzzing with the chatter of arriving and departing passengers. Typically, I take my time as I pass through this terminal—its architecture is a balm that calms me after the hardship of traveling as a colored woman.