As I was walking into a building, an African American man asked me if I knew where I was going. He was dressed for San Francisco weather with a thick wind breaker and was talking with a friend. Accustomed to the typical people I encountered in the city, I automatically said that yes I knew where I was going.<\/p>\n
He gave me a look and said, “I am security for the building\u00e2\u20ac\u201dit’s on the third floor, take the elevator up and it’s on your left.”<\/p>\n
Immediately I felt guilty, wondering if he thought I racially profiled him and passed him off quickly as a San Francisco nobody. Would I get a free pass just because I am a minority\u00e2\u20ac\u201dan Asian? Probably not. But as I stood in the elevator filled with guilt, I realized there was no way I could have known he was security. He didn’t dress like one or behave like one\u00e2\u20ac\u201dnot with the casual clothes and the chatting with a friend during work hours. How could I have known? If he had been Caucasian or Asian, I would have thought the same thing.<\/p>\n
But as I stepped off the elevator on the third floor, I completely forgot about the episode and opened the door to my destination.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
As I was walking into a building, an African American man asked me if I knew where I was going. He was dressed for San Francisco weather with a thick wind breaker and was talking with a friend. Accustomed to … Continue reading