Mar 07 2009
Silent No More: For Mel
On April 5, 2008 my best friend Mel died. He was a kind and generous person. You know, the one who’s in the background, supporting others and never asking anything of them for himself. To me, Mel was my pillar of strength. Even during the worse of my problems, he could wash the pain away with his laugh. A year ago today, Mel wanted to take me out to dinner. He knew I was having a hard time adjusting to graduate school and had been working on my first large research paper. I told him I couldn’t go, but when I finished the paper, we would celebrate with dinner. That never happened. Mel died before I finished the paper.
Mel worked for his Town’s public works department. He was close to retirement and looking forward to spending more time with his family and friends. Mel liked his job, but like most people, had good and bad days. So, one may ask: why is Mel so important if he’s so average? Mel was one of only three African American employees of the Town. The population of the town is over 17,000, therefore statistically, Mel’s employment fell within the range of a miniscule minority representation.
Every now and then, Mel and I would discuss the racism he encountered during his day at work. I recognize how difficult it was for Mel to tell me his experiences, especially as he was a fifty-ish (how he liked to put it) guy. It was 2008 and he still had to deal with racial slurs, cartoons and symbols at his workplace. He would tell me that he would take care of the situation. Mel would say, “sit back and just watch the show”. Yes, he did complain to town officials about what was happening to him, but they simply dismissed Mel as a trouble-maker.
Consider this; if an employee came to you complaining that they were called a n****r, would you suspend the person making the complaint or the person who made the offensive statement. Yet, that’s what happened to Mel. After being called the n****r word, Mel told his co-worker his opinion and left his workplace. Mel made a formal complaint to the Mayor. The Mayor handled the situation in this manner: Mel’s co-worker was suspended for several days as was Mel for ‘over-re-acting and leaving work’. [Keep in mind: this was NOT the first complaint Mel made about being called a n****r] Within the same week of receiving the ‘suspension notice’ for reacting to being called a n****r, Mel died.
I attended Mel’s wake. His family greeted everyone who came in as member of their family. I don’t know if Mel told his relatives about the racism he encountered at work. What I did see at Mel’s wake was the dichotomy of masks that people wear. The same people that drew caricatures of gorillas on the wall or called Mel offensive names went to his wake offering their condolences to his family. They had no awareness that their behavior toward him was not acceptable; rather it ate away at Mel’s humanity, man-hood and eventually caused his death.
Was my silence another factor in Mel’s death? I have been asking myself this question for close to a year. Should I have confronted the people I knew were hurting my friend? Would he still be alive today if I had enough courage to say “YOU”RE A RACIST” to these harassers? Mel would tell me no, it was not my battle. Unfortunately, it’s difficult to argue with a dead person. Next month on the 4th, I’m going out to dinner; no excuses this time. I’ll choose a nice restaurant; one Mel would have liked. I’ll sit by myself and at least pretend Mel, his laugh and love are having dinner with me.
