It was night.
The old white lady held her bag more tightly because a black man in a hoody came close. If she were black, and she saw some ‘any-coloured’ dude that fit the description of the stereotypical ‘snatcher,’ she’d do the same.
The white lady might be thinking: dark, black, hoody, therefore….
And the black lady thinking: dark, hoody, therefore….
Is it racist to act in ‘commonsense’ from real collective experience that resulted in some form of negative stereotyping of specific demographics?
She had felt so in love with him
It seemed like the feeling was mutual
They had a flow like soulmates
As one before they became one
One indeed afterwards in the closest bond
Their marriage seemed certain to come
But one day life hit her hard—bad
Her heart was cracked by the man of her heart
The meaning inherent in her feelings was left hanging
No route to any end, dangling
She wanted to die—not literally
The story she had lived in was getting unwritten.
A beautiful story had come to frozen
That wouldn’t cover the effusion of emotion
It was much too much to hold
it had to show
No longer looking to fall in love;
All she wanted was sense and decency.
That rapport and spontaneity that consumed her previously ceased to mean anything
It had lost its appeal after the jolt—the jilt
A man came up to her one day
He seemed okay….
No flow and glow
Yet good as okay would go
Sane and decent
She said yes when he proposed
There were no bells and whistles
She wasn’t swept of her feet
Not like she was into him
Feet firmly on the ground and eyes wide open
She had said yes and moved on
Satisfied with her choice
She would give her life but not her heart.
It had been wrapped in a cold blanket
It was a while…
When one day she realised she was liking him especially
A love with emotion was budding
And a warm feeling inside growing