The White WareWolf

What did it mean to leave NCSSM..

It has been two years now since I have left NCSSM and a part of me really feels as though it was like walking straight across 110^th street. I remember when I first started working there with bright eyes saying even the custodial staff there had degrees. My first true encounter with classisim/racisim came when I had an encounter with the then director of development, Rita Ware. For me it was eye opening because I was still fresh from NCCU, an historically black college/university and there was a certain degree haughtiness about me an my new MA. Coming to NCSSM I really considered myself equal to everyone there. In hindsight, it was far from the case. On the day it happened, we got a call from development to have a video tape ready for them for some sort of a presentation. The tone that we got from Rita – well I got from Rita was that she wanted the tape like yesterday. Obviously they were in a time sensitive vacuum. What I remember about her request was her poor and I mean poor way of asking for the video tape. It was so demeaning talking down to me. “I need this tape can you comply?!” I’m like who the #$%$ are you talking to? I’m not stupid and I know I can’t say that over the phone but damn if I was going to take it. So I began to write an email, my first of many flaming emails there and luckily my partner Robin Battle took the email and me to our boss Brenda Watson. She was like Russell, go take some time, walk around the block and think about it. Now I didn’t know at the time she was really helping me keep my job. Had that email gone out the way it was, misspellings and all, it would have been embarrassing. After I chilled, she told me that I needed to think about it a little bit longer – like two days. Luckily I was reading this book by Nathan Macall where he had a similar experience. I think my co-worker Anthony also kinda knew what was going on really told me that Rita Ware was really afraid of black folks. Well that was pretty obvious to me for the simple fact that having been a reformed prank phone caller, I knew one could be 10 feet tall over the phone. It was just too easy. So I strategized. Two days later I called to make an appointment to speak with Rita to get this off my chest. Every time I tried to call, she was either on the phone or didn’t have time to talk to me. Ok I thought to myself, she really is afraid. Brenda even confirmed that when she said after her meeting with her superior, saying if she’s bad enough to do the tough talk why can’t she stick around a simple conversation. So this hide and seek went on until I finally just said enough. I made a special trip to go see Rita and caught her sitting at her desk.

“Russell, I’m sorry I can’t talk right now.”

“Rita I only need five minutes, I know you’re busy.”

She started to get up from her desk to go to the door, where I happened to be standing.

“I really don’t have five minutes.”

Seizing the opportunity, I entered the door and closed it before she could get to it.

“That’s no problem, I only need three. When you called the other day, I detected there was a little anger in your voice and I wanted to know did I do something to upset you when you made your request.”

“Well, no we were just really under pressure. A tight deadline you know.”

It was weird because I could really see that she was a paranoid white woman. I only hoped she didn’t have a heart attack as she stuttering through her explanation.

“Really now.” I didn’t buy a bit of it but it was good to see her sweat. “That puts everything in a different light then. I was pretty confident that I had done nothing to receive the acrimonious tone wihich I obviously interpreted. Nevertheless, I’m sure everything went well with your presentation?”

Shocked, “Yes it did.”

“Great! These deadlines can really put you under a lot of pressure. I trust this will be the last time we have this conversation. Have a good day. Oh by the way, I got a minute to spare.”

It was a good idea I chilled and then moved otherwise—damn.