“I don’t see color.”
This lie, told so casually by so many well-meaning white people, is not harmless. It is violence.
Existing in this country—showing up as my full self: a Black author, educator, and advocate—is a radical act. But I don’t wake up every day looking to be radical. I’m just trying to live my life. I want to move through the world with dignity, with kindness, with the same respect and ease afforded to white people every day—regardless of their class, income, education, or background. And yet, to be a Black person in America is political. It is resistance. It is risky.
This truth was driven home—again—on Thursday, March 27, when I experienced a painful reminder of the everyday racism that quietly shapes and constrains our lives. What should have been an uneventful afternoon stop for a drink and a snack instead became an encounter with passive, systemic violence. You can read a summary of my experience below and/or read it on my Facebook page.
Summary of my experience at The Old Stone Tavern
On Thursday, March 27, after an appointment at Highland Hospital, I stopped by The Old Stone Tavern on South Avenue in Rochester, NY, intending to have a quiet drink and a bite to eat. I followed the posted sign instructing patrons to “Please wait to be seated” and stood near the entrance, in clear view of the bartender, Natasha. Despite making eye contact, Natasha did not acknowledge or greet me. Over the next 15–20 minutes, I watched as she warmly welcomed white customers who arrived after me, inviting them to sit and offering them service immediately. I remained the only Black person in the establishment and received no acknowledgment. After waiting patiently, I approached her and calmly asked why I had been ignored. She denied doing so, offered a weak apology, and began to panic when I mentioned speaking to a manager.
I walked out, shaken. My hands still trembling, I sat in my car and recorded the encounter. I debated whether or not to share the experience publicly. I knew what it could cost me. But I also knew I wasn’t alone. So, I posted the story to Facebook.
The response was immediate and overwhelming. Messages, comments, support, and shared outrage poured in. And yet, through it all, a familiar sadness lingered. Because I wasn’t surprised. This is not new. This is not rare. This is the mundane, everyday violence of racism—of “nice” racism. Of weaponized silence. What makes this kind of racism so insidious is that it allows white people to deny it even happened. They get to feign innocence, express shock, cry, apologize, and beg not to be reviewed negatively. They get to look you in the eye and claim they didn’t mean anything by it—that it was all a misunderstanding. They get to rewrite the story in real time.
Meanwhile, my body keeps the score.
This is what Arline Geronimus calls weathering—the accumulated stress of navigating racism in daily life. It’s not just emotional. It’s biological. It reduces my life expectancy. It wears on the body. It means that Black women are more than 2.5 times likely to die from pregnancy-related complications than White women. It is the trauma. It is violence. It exists whether I speak up or not.
And that’s what hurts most.
There is no “right” choice.
Whether I speak out or stay silent, I am harmed either way.
The moment I stood in that tavern, debating whether to say something, I thought about Emmett Till. I thought about the book The Blood of Emmett Till by Timothy B. Tyson that still sits unread on my coffee table because I’m not emotionally ready to read it just yet. I thought about Christian Cooper, the birdwatcher in Central Park who calmly confronted Amy Cooper in 2020 and paid for it in ways we may never fully understand. Even sharing my experience on social media was a risk.
The algorithm might shadowban my post
Racist trolls might doxx me
People might call me a liar
My reputation, my career, my livelihood—all at risk.
And still, I shared. Because silence would have eaten me alive. This experience, painful as it was, reminded me why I do this work.
For years, I’ve envisioned launching a Racism Peer Support Line—a resource for people to talk about experiences like mine without being gaslit or invalidated. I’ve applied for grants. I’ve talked to funders. I’ve written drafts and proposals. But the time never felt right. I didn’t feel ready. Imposter syndrome told me I wasn’t qualified. That I didn’t have the credentials.
But the truth is, I’ve been ready.
The need has been here.
And the time is now.
So, today, I am announcing the Racism Peer Support Line. This hotline will be web-bsased, where folks can sign up and receive a phone call to talk through the everyday casual racism that they experience. What happened to me happens every day to people all over Rochester and beyond. Because sometimes, all we need is someone to believe us. To listen without judgment. To validate your experience. Tell you, that was racism. And it wasn’t okay.”
If you support this vision, here’s how you can help:
Become a paid subscriber to this newsletter
Share this essay with your networks
Read books by Black authors
Research the racist history of the United States
Amplify Black content creators
Support Black owned businesses
And most importantly, listen when Black people tell you actions and or behavior feels like racism
Believe us.
Don’t debate us.
Don’t dismiss us.
Call out racism in yourself and in others.
Do not stay silent.
Because the only way we’ll ever stop the weathering is by dismantling the system that causes it in the first place.
Work With Me
As we head into spring, here’s what I have available:
Education Consulting — I provide personalized support for students, parents, and educators, focusing on holistic growth and social-emotional development through equitable, research-based curricula, targeted interventions, and effective strategies. Join me at the Henrietta Public Library on April 10.
Content writing & editing — I’d love to write more about a variety of topics, like food, disability awareness, and health and wellness.
Creative Consulting— I help brands and individuals develop mindful, equitable, and mission-aligned strategies that are both innovative and impactful.
Social media strategy projects — Through content creation, social media strategy, copywriting, and program development, I ensure authentic and engaging connections with their audience.
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