I was a bystander

There's no way to go through this life without regrets. And while it's important not to dwell on them, I'm certain it's good to be able to identify them, reflect on them, and learn from them. Some may even be worth sharing. This regret of mine is worth sharing, because it may influence others, and no doubt because it will help assuage my sense of guilt. You see, I was once a bystander.

Actually, we've all been bystanders at one point or another. What makes this one tough is that I was an adult. Perhaps we can be forgiven for being bystanders as children when we witnessed someone being bullied, or otherwise shunned. I certainly do hope so, for my own sake. But as an adult, I should know wrong-doing when I see it, and respond accordingly. This is one such instance.

But first, know this: I come from a belief that the world is good. On the whole, people are good and decent and care about their neighbor. Racism, for example, is limited to a relatively small minority who tend to grab the spotlight and give fuel to those who would say it's a big problem. And if I allowed myself to, I would take comfort in knowing that I am, and my friends are, among the good people - not the bad.

And so, I go through life feeling pretty good about myself.

So one day I'm on a business trip, and as is my habit I take something to read with me to dinner out at a local diner. I take a booth in a row of booths, mine facing the door to the kitchen. Most booths are occupied, and a pleasant but business-like young waitress is serving. She comes to my table, and the familiar process of order taking, food-bringing, refill offers commences. I'm reading my book.

At some point, I become aware of the woman in the next booth, sitting with her back to me and also facing the kitchen. She is African-American, by herself, and had been seated shortly after I was. What eventually got my attention was the fact that the server had passed her booth to bring my meal. In the meantime, I didn't remember noticing woman get her drink. Come to think of it, her order hadn't been taken, either.

My meal was decent - I didn't exactly have high expectations, and they were met. The book was a good one; I had finished a chapter and thought about starting the next. Dessert?

My neighbor had summoned the waitress a few times - yes, the waitress assured her she would be with her in a moment. 

Yes, dessert - always dessert! But isn't it odd that I'm having dessert, and my neighbor hasn't gotten her meal yet?  I mean, I have no complaints about the service I'm getting.

As I get up to leave and settle the bill at the counter by the door, I notice my neighbor is already there, complaining that she had been there 30 minutes and was not served. The older woman at the counter is indignant, taking offense at the complaint. At this point, I decide to be a helpful witness.

"I was in the booth next to her, and I can tell you she's right, her service was very poor."

"YOU, sir, had best mind your own business - this does not concern you!" was the woman's response, putting me in my place.

Leaving, I wanted to catch up with the black woman in the parking lot and offer some words of support. She was gone. Slowly, it began to dawn on me what I had witnessed. But, maybe I was misreading the situation. Surely, it's 2015. And yes, it's Virginia, but even so, no one would deny a person service because of their race, much less get so indignant when they complained about it. 

I've had much time to reflect since then. And there can be no doubt that I had witnessed, over the course of about an hour, a woman being mistreated and made unwelcome because of her race. I was next to her, and I watched it, and did nothing. That makes me a bystander. And a bystander such as this is a participant on the side of the oppressor, not the victim. A bystander implicitly tells the bully/oppressor that their behavior is understandable, at best - and to be encouraged and supported, at worst. There is no in-between.

Racism is easy to spot when someone uses an epithet, or holds up a sign, "N_ _ _ _ r go home!" We have a tendency to deny believing what we are seeing, especially when it is unpleasant and goes against that tendency to give a stranger the benefit of the doubt. Because people are good, right?

Watching three cops and untold bystanders look on while another cop drives his knee in the back of a defenseless black man's neck has me screaming "Somebody DO something, he's killing that man!" Then, of course, I remember that I have been a bystander. All I had to do was invite that woman to my booth, or offer to move into hers. I still love imagining the scene that would have caused.

Many of us have a tendency to resent protesters in the streets. I mean, what do they want, anyway? The cop was suspended, then fired and charged with murder, and the 3 cops with him. It was wrong, we get it, now go home!

What they want is, they want our attention. Too many of us support these actions by accepting them. Somehow, over the course of 18+ years on the police force, Officer Derek Chauvin had concluded that brutality was an acceptable part of his job - even when confronting a nonviolent citizen suspected of a non-violent crime like trying to pass a fake $20 bill.  And somewhere in Virginia there is a woman, five years older now, who could reasonably conclude through my complacency that not serving African-Americans in her restaurant is acceptable. Even worse, other than my feeble, belated response at the counter, that African-American woman can likewise conclude that nobody really cares about that kind of injustice shown to her.

And so, to both of you: while I will never meet you again, I apologize for misleading you both. But know that I will never, ever, be a bystander again.

You see, Satan demands to sift you all like wheat, to test you,

But I have prayed for you, that your faith may not fail;

and when you have turned again, strengthen your brethren

Luke 22:31-32