A Tale Of Three Cultures .... And a Glock

Sheila and I had to run a few errands this afternoon. Our washer and dryer are still out of service from a recent kitchen remodel and we needed a few groceries now that we have a functioning kitchen again. So, we ate lunch at our favorite hole in the wall Mexican place, headed to the laundromat and then to the WalMart Neighborhood Market.

I eat at that particular Mexican place at least twice per week.The crowd is racially diverse but mostly Mexican. Mexican working people to be more precise. While I don't open carry, I don't go to any trouble to conceal my weapon either. It's always there under my shirt or jacket and it probably shows sometimes when I reach for something. On a hot day in this place, I take my jacket off when I'm wearing one and the weapon is out in the open. Nobody seems to notice or care that I armed.

While Sheila was at the laundromat, I ran up the street to the "salon" where I have my hair cut. It's actually kind of a trendy place in an urban sort of way, not really my kind of place in some ways. But, it's close by and I've gotten to know most of the stylists. I wear my weapon when I go in, take my jacket off and get my hair cut. All you can see is the butt of my Glock sticking out of my waistband. Again, nobody seems to notice or care that I armed. After all this is still Oklahoma even on stylish Cherry Street.
Sheila was pretty well all in after the laundry so I did the grocery shopping. All went fine until I arrived in the checkout line. There were a pair of well dressed black women in line in front of me, a forty-ish woman and what appeared to be her teen-aged daughter. They were dressed in matching purple tee shirts.

I smiled at them and began loading my groceries onto the checkout conveyor. I guess my weapon became visible under my jacket as I was reaching across to pull things out of my basket. The teen-aged girl began staring at me in almost horror. I smiled at her again and she just stood there staring. I went about unloading my cart and looked up again and she was still intently staring at me.

It didn't make me uncomfortable, just curious. I like to think that I am pretty good at reading people. She was afraid. I can't know for sure what she was afraid of but I can take some pretty good guesses. In her culture, it is an accepted fact that white policeman shoot young black people for fun. In her culture, it is an accepted fact that white people hate black people just because they are black. In her culture, I guess it is an accepted fact that an armed man is up to no good.


After what seemed like several minutes of staring, I wanted to say, "Honey, you have nothing to fear from me and you are much safer with me here armed than you would be otherwise. This place is a zoo and there have been armed robberies in this very store no more than a six feet from where you are standing. If you have to be afraid of something, fear that not me. I have absolutely nothing against as you as a person because of your race or anything else for that matter and I am not about to pull my weapon out and shoot you for being black in WalMart. But, I would pull my weapon to protect you."


On reflection I decided that, given the unreasoning fear I was seeing in her eyes, that dialogue would only have exacerbated the situation. And that's a pity because it needed to be said.