Tongue Tied

by Nadira Ali

Fall 2017, my creative nonfiction writing class took a field trip to the Washington State University Art Museum. Our prompt was to write about a piece of art. At the time, I had no idea what creative nonfiction writing was and I had no idea how I was going to write about art. Echos filled the open, untouched space as a docent walked us through. The off-white walls devoured the large room. We carefully examined each piece of art, wondering what the artist was thinking when they created their work. What was the real and raw meaning of it? I didn’t care much for a lot of the pieces of art until I saw it.

Tongue Tied. I observed the large, spare print with my black spiral notebook in one hand and my purple pen in the other. I looked at it straight on, from the left, from the right, close up, and far away. I looked at it long and hard before I truly “saw” it, before I knew I had no choice but to write about this piece of art.

The print hung by itself at eye level on the wall directly to the left of the museum entrance, crows surrounding the head of an African American woman. In the bottom left corner was the head of the woman in all black. Adjacent to her head was one crow, two more positioned above her, trapping her in the corner and leaving her outnumbered.

In today’s world the African American woman represents people of color and the crows represent those who fight against them to diminish their rights. The woman alone was not strong enough to fight the crows off from feasting on her rights. The orange-toned background emphasized the threat the crows brought. The crows represented the Jim Crow Laws that declared white and black people to be separate but “equal.” Along with other laws enacted in the 1950s, Blacks and Whites were not allowed to play card games, dice, or pool with each other. They were not allowed to be served in the same room at restaurants, and people of color were not allowed to attend the same schools as White students.

In the painting, the woman’s mouth was zipped shut just like the slaves were many years ago. Her mouth was zipped shut just like so many women and minorities still are today. The eyes of the woman were beady and black. Lifeless. In Tongue Tied Alison Saar created what too many people are afraid to talk about. She communicated the oppression that continues to consume our society piece by piece. Tongue Tied isn’t just a piece of art. It acts as an advocate for the people who are unable to speak up for themselves. People like my older brother. People like my mother.

* * *

Up until recently, I knew what racism was but I didn’t know how much it affected my life. It wasn’t easy being one of the few African American families in the small town where I grew up. Some might say I came from the stereotypical African American family— father not around much, mother working two jobs to keep the power on while the young children learned from an early age how to cook, clean, pack lunches, do laundry, and a lot of other things for themselves. But one of the hardest parts about being Black but not looking Black is having people tell you that you aren’t Black. People constantly telling you that racism and oppression don’t affect you because you don’t look Black. But throughout my childhood, my mother constantly warned my siblings and me that we had to be more careful than our White friends because we risked getting in more trouble than they would. She already knew that risk— the risk of being Black in America.

I was seventeen when she first opened up about when she was arrested. I sat in the back of Mrs. Crabtree’s 11th and 12th grade history class. My mother had been called to the school to talk with students about racism in her life and the community. Standing in front of the class, she began to tell the story of how in 1991 she and my father's family had had a business on Jeweler's Row in Philadelphia. They made exquisite belt buckles for all kinds of famous people, including Whitney Houston. One day my mother and her friend were on their way back to the store with their new business cards when they were stopped by a police officer who falsely accused my mother of selling drugs. In front of the classroom my mother’s voice became quiet as she described what happened next. She choked on her words as she told the class how the police officer had wrapped her arms behind her back and slammed her against the hood of the police car. She told us how the handcuffs had gripped her wrists so tightly that they bruised and bled. In the jail they took her shoelaces from her because they were afraid she was going to hang herself with them. She told us when she asked the police officer about her one phone call, he responded, “You nigger bitch, I can hold you here for twelve hours and that’s what I’m gonna do.” She waited hours before being allowed to call my grandma to bail her out.

In one quick moment, my mother’s voice was taken away just like the woman’s in Tongue Tied. At the time, my mother was studying criminal justice at Temple University, but following the arrest, she wanted nothing more to do with the law. After experiencing first-hand the injustice and blatant racism that surrounded her in her everyday life, the last thing she wanted to do was be involved with the government. How can one willingly work for the system that continues to fail them time and time again?

* * *

Growing up, my family didn’t have a lot of money, so we kids worked. My older brother got a job at the Canterwood Golf and Country Club down the street. The only people who lived in Canterwood were the people who could afford million-dollar houses along with expensive luxury cars and more materialistic items than you can put on your Christmas list. My brother worked in the golf shop cleaning golf carts and selling merchandise. The only people who golfed during the day were the wealthy people who were retired. Most days my brother came home with lots of money in tips. But I will never forget the day he came home from work distraught and confused because an old white man asked his friend, “Why they got a nigger working here?” My brother, the strongest person I know, was shattered because for the first time in his life he was seen as a “nigger” instead of the kind-hearted, hard-working, and giving person he is. Even in the small tight-knit community we lived in, people still were able to separate him because of the color of his skin. And almost four years later the outcome is still the same. In January 2018 at a small bar in Helena, Montana my brother was discriminated against. Again called a “nigger” by the bartender and thrown out after. Racial injustices don’t just happen in my small town, they continue to happen everywhere, all over the world.

* * *

My junior year of high school, I decided to leave the traditional high school setting and go to a community college to take classes for free. In order to get my associates degree I had to take political science. Political science during arguably the worst election year ever was a terrible idea. Prior to the class I avoided talking politics at all costs. The professor really was a nice guy— even if his old age and slow speaking occasionally put me to sleep. We spent most of our time watching YouTube videos, some made by him and his son. But when the professor asked the question, "Do you think our founding fathers would be proud of where we are today?" one young man in the class finally spoke up. Before this, I had rarely paid attention to the class discussions, and this student had never raised his hand. This time he had something to say and when he said the founding fathers would not be proud of where we are today, I was confused. How wouldn't they be proud? On paper we have equal rights. We aren't at war, slavery isn't a thing anymore, and we are accepting of everyone. When I defended how far we have come in just a century, another student replied, "Yeah slavery was bad but who else was gonna do all the work?" Heads turned and the room grew silent. Of course the rich White male would be ignorant to the life that people of color were forced to live. Just like that, he took away the voice that people of color continue to fight for.

* * *

Because money didn’t come easily, I worked before and after school every day. When I wasn’t listening to ignorant people in class, my best friend and I were working at Edible Arrangements. I hated working Saturdays because usually I was the only one who ever showed up. It had been a slow day, so my friend Jaeden and I spent hours deep-cleaning every inch of the place. The stainless steel countertops reflected the glare of the light above. The sound of the walk-in fridge turning on lingered in the background. One of our temporary employees had just come back from taking deliveries when he mentioned the upcoming election. This snowballed into the conversation I had been trying my hardest to avoid. We all talked before the temporary delivery driver confidently said, “Slavery really wasn’t that bad. They gave them food, clothes, and a place to stay…”

He was the first person to introduce my jaw to the floor. How do you respond to that? Dumbfounded I said, “What do you mean? One human being owned another human being. Slaves had little to no rights. Do you know what the Three-Fifths Compromise was? Their opinions didn’t even count as a full vote compared to the White men. Slaves were beaten and raped. They were shipped to the United States against their will. They got food and clothes because they wouldn’t have survived without them.” How was he going to tell two Black people that slavery wasn’t “that bad?” I had never experienced that kind of ignorance in my entire life. This was not a political thing, this was a humanity thing.

* * *

Some racial incidents aren’t as bad as mine. Some are much worse. Alison Saar created the perfect image of the painful events that our nation calls the past. Let’s look at the facts. In 2003, the National Bureau of Economic Research conducted an experiment where they had both White and Black people submit the same resume to see who would get called back. This study concluded that people with white-sounding names got called back 50 percent more than people who applied with Black-sounding names.¹ Racism isn’t just calling someone the “N” word, racism is something that people of color deal with almost everyday. It’s not just the situations that could be avoided just by having lighter skin. It is not getting jobs, it is getting pulled over for no reason on your way home from work, it is getting in more trouble for doing the same thing that someone white did, and it is ultimately living in fear because you don’t know how the color of your skin will give you less of a chance at success. What’s the point of trying when you know that you will be less successful than someone who is white, not because you are less qualified than them but because you know you won’t be given a chance? It’s like being told to run a marathon when you already know you will come in last place.

In 2014, the United States Department of Education Office for Civil Rights conducted a series of surveys from schools all across the nation regarding information on suspension statistics between the races. The collection of data states that Black students are suspended and expelled at a rate three times more than White students.² With an average of only 5 percent of White students that are suspended, 16 percent of Black students are suspended for the same infractions. While this survey was nearly four years ago, this is exactly what Saar was portraying in Tongue Tied. The inequality, the injustice, and the sad reality that is America now. This is not just something that happens in one state, it is a common trend in our schools nationwide.

* * *

In Portland, Oregon in 2015, Portland State University psychology professor Kimberley Kahn conducted an experiment to see the difference in drivers yielding to White and Black pedestrians. The study was done in the middle of the day so visibility was not an issue. Men were simply asked to walk across the street. The psychologist had both the Black and White men in their twenties to wear the same thing. Same body build, same height, same walking pace, and same posture. The only difference? The color of their skin. After nearly one hundred trials, drivers were statistically proven to stop more for White pedestrians than Black ones.³

You don’t have to come out and say “I hate Black people” to be racist. So many people in the world are racist but they don’t acknowledge it. Just because you don’t explicitly say you hate one race doesn’t mean you aren’t racist. If you find yourself thinking that one race is better than all other races, you might be racist. If you find yourself thinking that because someone has dark skin they like fried chicken, grape soda, and watermelon, you might be racist. Just maybe.

The statistics are chilling. “Black drivers are 31% more likely to be pulled over than Whites; they are more than twice as likely to be subject to police searches as White drivers; and they are nearly twice as likely to not be given any reason for the traffic stop, period.” This is just one of the facts from the Washington Post’s article, “You really can get pulled over for driving while Black, federal statistics show”⁴ on the correlation between traffic violations and ethnicity. A lot of people see things like these happening in their communities and around them in their everyday lives, but how many of them actually speak up and say something about it? Just because it doesn’t directly affect you does not mean that you shouldn’t stand up for what is right even if you’re the only one standing.

William A. Darity Jr. from Duke University conducted a study in which he summarized that blacks are “…the last to be hired in a good economy, and when there’s a downturn, they’re the first to be released.”⁵ It is statistically proven that people of color, and specifically Black people, have a harder time getting jobs and an even harder time of keeping them. While this is a step up from Jim Crow laws many decades ago, it isn’t enough. When you combine this with the fact that people with Black-sounding names don’t get called back as often as those with White-sounding names, that makes it extremely hard for people of color to get a leg up in our world today.

* * *

People constantly wonder how racism got so out of hand. They ask what happened? Why are people like this? Let me dumb it down. It’s really as simple as it seems. Because people are racist. There is not a weird birth defect behind it. It is people being taught that it is okay to treat people differently because they look a little different. No one is born racist. It is taught and tolerated.

As I grow older I become more aware of the world around us. While there are so many good people, the world is also flooding with bad ones. Society is too afraid to speak up against the people who throw their words around like ninja stars. There are still millions of people who have their mouths zipped shut as they are unable to speak out about injustices and oppression.

At 19 years old, the concept of racism still blows my mind. It doesn’t make sense. How could I be treated as less of a human because of the color of my skin? How does having a lighter skin tone make someone better than me? It doesn’t. It’s not rocket science. Our society feeds racism again and again, giving it the strength and power that it should not have. People make excuses and exceptions for behavior that is not acceptable. They allow it to happen. The more people think it’s okay, the more people continue to do it. I look around the world and reach up to unzip my own mouth, to wave away the crows that seek to silence me, to take away my voice. I will not be prey to my own silencing again.