Stephen A Day In Ottawa

As a big and tall young Black man living in the City of Ottawa, Ontario, I get frustrated and angry at the covert and overt bigotry I encounter sometimes. I was on the OC Transpo bus leaving Hurdman Station when some White dude got up and bumped my foot, then stepped on it, all without apologizing. What the fuck, are you kidding me?

This bozo did NOT just do that to me. I followed the fool as he got off the bus and tapped him on the shoulder and when he turned around, I was ready to kick his ass. I told him that if he ever tried that shit with me again, I'd mop the floor with him. I was breathing heavily and willed myself to be calm, lest I throttle the fool.

The dude looked me up and down, shook his head and walked away. I stood there, glaring at his receding silhouette, while people looked on. Another day in Ottawa, folks. Throw people from radically different backgrounds and walks of life together and you're bound to have a few hiccups. In hindsight, the whole situation could have been handled differently, but sometimes the passive-aggressive, bigoted culture that surrounds me royally pisses me off.

Oh, snap. In all the excitement, I forgot to introduce myself. The name is Stephen, and I'm a criminology student at Carleton University. Usually I'm a friendly and laidback kind of guy, but sometimes, just sometimes, I Hulk out. We all have those days. For me, the hotter it gets, the more idiots I seem to run into and the more pissed off I get. I need to get a handle on my temper, seriously.

Following the incident with the dude from the bus, I went to the public library and picked up a couple of Spiderman comic books I had on reserve. The Superior Spiderman storyline is one of Marvel's best works in recent years, and I am glad to see an entirely different Spiderman tackling NYC's crime scene. I won't spoil it, you'll have to go get the comic and see what I'm talking about.

While at the public library, I ran into my buddy John, a young Haitian dude I've known for years. We caught up on stuff, and then I excused myself and went upstairs to use the free computers. Guess what? I ran into Gwendolyn Graves, this White lady I met a while ago in my campus library. Tall and dark-haired, curvy and pretty, with lively green eyes, Gwendolyn is one of a few people in Ottawa whom I actually find likeable. Strictly platonic here, dear family, this gal is old enough to be my mama.

Gwendolyn does a lot of volunteer work with the City of Ottawa, and the lady seems to know a lot of cool people. She keeps inviting me to this Masters of Mentorship Club of hers, but I am quite busy with my school and my part-time job as a rent-a-cop. No time for volunteer work when I've got bills to pay. Tuition recently went up at Ottawa's colleges and universities, and that's not exactly good news for students like myself.

Yeah, joining the Masters of Mentorship Club was out of the question but Gwendolyn is a nice person. That's why, when she asked me to accompany her to a meeting of the Metropolitan Planning League, I acquiesced. First, though, we went to grab coffee at a Tim Horton's downtown, Gwendolyn's treat. As we sat down and discussed everything from my university studies to Gwendolyn's activities and Canadian politics, I noticed that quite a few people were staring at us.

That's Ottawa for you, and a well-dressed young Black man grabbing coffee with a middle-aged White lady at a Tim Horton's, well, that's the sort of thing that Ottawa's passive-aggressive, covertly racist denizens find worth staring at. One of the Tim Horton's patrons, a middle-aged White dude who looked homeless, interjected himself into our conversation. I wanted to tell the bozo to fuck off but Gwendolyn actually talked to him while I quietly simmered.

I cut that annoyance real quick by reminding Gwendolyn that we had a meeting of the Metropolitan Urban League to attend, and she nodded. We got up and walked out while the middle-aged White bozo stared at us. I would have put him in his place if Gwendolyn hadn't been with me. I don't suffer fools, in case you didn't know. Anyhow, where was I? Oh, yeah, Gwendolyn and I walked from the public library downtown to a certain government building overlooking Parliament Hill, and took the elevator to the Metropolitan Planning League.

Once we got there, I noticed that everyone in the room was White, save for the Aboriginal cameraman, and a certain gay-looking Black dude who was giggling with an old White guy. There were about fifty people in the room, and everyone was between forty and sixty. Lots of silver haired people. Lots of suits. I looked alright in a long-sleeved green silk shirt and Black dress pants. I like to dress business casual because I'm an image-conscious brother. We've got way too many classless bastards sagging up and down the streets of Ottawa, showing everyone the unwanted sight of their sorry behinds. I am not one of them.

Still, everyone stared at Gwendolyn and I. I could see questions all over their faces. Tall, well-dressed, twenty-something, masculine young Black man escorting a tall, attractive, forty-something White lady. Are we friends? Are we more than friends? Are we fucking? What are we to each other? Folks, I honestly have a strong dislike for middle-aged White males in Ottawa because they're the most racist bozos on the planet.

I felt distinctly uncomfortable as the creepy, fake-smiling crowd eyed Gwendolyn and I, and we sat together. Gwendolyn, being a Jane-of-all-trades, was a proud member of this elitist little club and this was an invitation-only event, and for a moment she seemed worried that we might not find seats. I shrugged at that. Gwendolyn told me that if the club members asked me to leave, she would leave too. That last bit made me smile.

I am celibate right now because my last relationship, which involved a tall, big-booty Ghanaian female psychopath named Loretta, didn't end too well. Still, there are lots of attractive females of all shades in the City of Ottawa. I prefer my sisters but I'd be the world's worst liar if I didn't admit that certain White girls do catch my notice. When Gwendolyn said those words to me, I smiled inwardly.

One of the main reasons why a lot of brothers ( myself included ) don't date White females is because them broads are usually clueless about the racist behavior of White males who hate and fear us brothers. To be a Black male in North America is to be the focal point of racism, ninety nine percent of which comes from angry, insecure White dudes.

The world treats Black men like shit and treats White guys like princes but they're the angry and insecure ones while most of us brothers are cool, confident, secure in our manliness, and couldn't give a damn about what anyone who isn't us happens to think of us. That's my main reason for not dating White females. They're blissfully unaware of the fact that to date a Black man is to face the racism prevalent at all levels of society, and that the mere presence of Black males triggers a kind of anger and insecurity in males of all races.

Trust me, I've seen the way Arab guys look at Somali brothers who date Arab girls, and don't even get me started on the anger and disgust I see in the eyes of White guys who see Black men holding hands with attractive young White women. The Black man's prowess and confidence attracts women of all races, and males of all races hate us brothers for it. What a bunch of punks if you ask me.

The meeting of the Metropolitan Planning League went on, and expert and presenter after expert and presenter spoke. I didn't really listen. I just sat there, quietly admiring Gwendolyn. When her turn came to speak, this soft-spoken, lovely lady captivated everyone's attention. I was amazed, to tell you the truth. This lady has spunk!

Gwendolyn spoke about urban planning and development, and spoke respectfully of minority groups like Aboriginals, African immigrants and Arabs. Gwendolyn talked about involving members of such groups in urban planning, rather than relegating all the decision-making to rich old White guys. I wasn't expecting that from her, to tell you the truth. Finally, someone else sees the world my way!

After the speeches concluded, people started leaving the room while others stuck around to chit-chat. I waited outside the ladies room for Gwendolyn. When she came out, refreshed, I smiled at her and we took the elevator together. The elevator was packed full of old White people who gawked at Gwendolyn and I but she didn't hesitate and jumped on, and I followed suit.

Afterwards, we sat on the OC Transpo bus heading for Carleton University. As we sat there talking, I saw a buddy of mine, a brother named Wayne, from Saint Lucia. He's a civil engineering student. Wayne walked on the busy with Tiffany, a blonde-haired white chick I'd seen him with around campus. Wayne and Tiffany sat beside Gwendolyn and I, and we talked for a while. Wayne and Tiffany got off at the Lansdowne street stop while Gwendolyn and I rode the bus all the way to Carleton.

Once we reached campus, Gwendolyn and I walked toward the school library, cutting through the University Center. Naturally, people stared at us. Now, Carleton University is a diverse school and interracial couples aren't exactly rare on campus but I think the age difference between Gwendolyn and I made people stare even more. Oh, snap. Gwendolyn and I are just friends, alright? We aren't even a couple. Will fuckers quit staring already?

Much later, as I sat my computer and got some exam prep stuff done, I noticed Gwendolyn looking at me furtively as I worked. I smiled at her and she smiled at me, then busied herself with her work. Lovely woman, I thought, discretely looking at Gwendolyn. I wished her goodnight and went to catch the last bus leaving the Carleton campus for Baseline Station. I had a big smile on my face as I lay on my bed that night. The world needs more women like Gwendolyn, seriously.