I Wish I Wasn't Black

Although Cordell was already awake, he waited on his alarm clock to buzz anyways. Once it did, he leaned over the nightstand, turned off the alarm and sighed. He stared blankly at the ceiling and said. “Well Cordell, another day another quarter. I wish I wasn’t Black, then I would make more money.”

Falling out of bed literally tangled in his sheets, Cordell hit his face on the hardwood floor splitting his lip. He yelled as he wiped the blood on his pajama shirt. "Wow another great day."

Cordell made his way to the closet and removed his one blue suit, but realized it had more condiments on it than a hot dog stand. Disheartened yet determined not to let the malaise consume him, he turned his attention to his one black suit. "My condolences.” He whispered. “I'd have more suits if I wasn’t Black.”

After taking a shower, he emerged from the bathroom feeling cleaner; although his mood hadn’t changed. And putting on his one black suit added to his disposition once he discovered the hole in the crotch. “God hates me.” He repeated several times as he finished getting dressed. Then he ate a bowl of Fruit Loops and prepared to leave.

As he opened his apartment door he was startled by Mrs Ezra Mendelsohn, the widowed caretaker who acted like the owner. The diminutive, elderly woman stood next to a silent vacuum seemingly waiting for Cordell. “I smell weed!” The curler wearing Jewish woman screeched just inches from Cordell’s face.

“I don’t smoke Mrs Mendelsohn.” Cordell mildly replied.

“All you rappers smoke!”

“You know I work at First National.”

“Eh, yada yada yada. How’d a little colored boy like you get that job anyways? Affirmative action?”

Even though he was offended by the blatant racism, Cordell turned away and said. “I have to get to work Mrs Mendelsohn.”

“Yeah...well don’t lemme’ me catch you smoking no more weed Bob Marley, or I’ll have you put outta’ here quicker than you can say I have a dream.”

“I wish I wasn’t Black.” He whispered.

The morning sunshine worked wonders in changing Cordell’s mood. Its warmth cut through his thick skin that protected him from the world and its hate. He grinned like a school age child when a cool breeze grazed his face. It actually made him feel like today may turn out to be all right after all. That was until reality came crashing back down in the form of a red pickup truck. “Get outta’ here nigger!” Came the ignorant banter as it drove by.

As he continued his commute to the bus stop, a newer model BMW pulled to the curb. When three Caucasian gentlemen exited the foreign vehicle, he immediately recognized his co-workers Lawrence, Nicholas and Theodore. Loan officers at First National where he worked as a teller.

“What’s up my brother?” A tall, blonde well groomed man said. “When are you going to show me how to break dance?” His two cohorts broke into laughter as if following a cue.

“Good morning Teddy.” Cordell sarcastically replied. He knew Theodore didn’t like his name shortened.

“That’s Theodore, thank you.”

“Hey, there was a shooting in North Minneapolis last night.” Lawrence chimed in. “I think it was one of your cousins.”

“Oh dat’s funny Larry.” Cordell said with an imitation southern accent. “Did you make that up yourself or did Teddy write that for you? Now if you’ll excuse me I have a bus to catch.”

Making his way through the Caucasian road block proved to be easier said than done. “Fellas…” Cordell started. “I’d love to stay and listen to more of your unbelievable wit, but I really must be going.”

“Hold up homeboy!” Theodore said as he pulled out a marijuana cigarette. “Smoke some ganja my man.”

“No thanks T, I don’t smoke.”

‘Come on bro, all you people smoke pot.” His two accomplices couldn’t stop giggling.

“Actually we prefer crack, so why don’t you call me when you get something more potent.” Again the two accomplices giggled.

Obviously perturbed by his comrades' jovial disposition, Theodore shot them a look that shut them down like a kill switch. “Ha ha ha, that's real funny mud bone, but if you don’t take a drag of this I’ll make sure you end up in the mail room or worse!” Theodore threatened.

Cordell felt like he didn't have a choice, so he accepted the hallucinogenic and a yellow lighter. Putting the flame to the widest end he inhaled deeply and turned nearly a quarter of the hand rolled cigarette into ash. He then exhaled a nimbus cloud through his nose, which made his eyes and throat burn like a three alarm fire. Then he coughed like an asthma patient, and slobbered like a baby, before he passed the mind altering flower back to Theodore.

“See that’s some high grade shit huh?”

“Yeah, it's great.” Cordell replied. He was starting to feel paranoid.

“Oh shit, the cops bro!” Lawrence exclaimed noting the police squad car approaching.

“ Stay cool.” Theodore commanded as he dropped the marijuana joint.

The newer model Crown Victoria pulled ominously to the curb. It stopped and two obese, devout Irish Catholic officers clambered from the vehicle smelling like cigars and fast food. The senior of the two officers walked directly up to Theodore. “Is there a problem here?”

“No sir we were…” Cordell started but was interrupted.

“Now you shut up boy, when I’m talking to you you’ll know it.” The officer angrily grunted. “Now like I said, is there a problem?”

“Yes sir there is.” Theodore said as he cleared his throat. “My two buddies and I were passing by on our way to work, when this Black guy here flagged us down by pretending to need help. But when we stopped to offer our assistance he threatened us.”

“What?” Cordell blurted. That’s a lie!”

Suddenly, a strike to Cordell's solar plexus brought him to his knees gasping for air.

“What did I tell you boy?” The stout officer asked. "Now you fellas run along, and we’ll handle it from here."

“Thank you officers.” Theodore remarked. And the three of them were off.

Once the over aggressive, suit wearing pushers were out of sight the officers helped Cordell to his feet. “Now you listen closely you little’ niggling’! We’re going to ask you some questions and you damn well better tell the truth. You understand?”

“Yes sir.”

The belligerent boys in blue questioned Cordell like he was the prime suspect in an act of terrorism. They humiliated him with insults, antagonized him with threats of cruelty and physically assaulted him for being truthful. They regarded him as less than human, blatantly slandered his entire culture and even made disparaging remarks about his mother. He really wished he wasn't Black.

“See the minute we spotted your Black ass I said to my partner. Partner, you see that coon over there? He thinks he’s special because he lives uptown.” He paused briefly. “But you know what? It doesn’t matter where you live or who the president is. You still ain’t worth the dog shit on the bottom of my shoes.” The two officers chuckled heartily.

Cordell pondered his options. One, risk a hasty retreat which may lead to gunfire. Two, assail the two officers which may lead to death. Or three, accept the debasing and hope it ends soon. He chose the latter.

“So who was smoking the marijuana?” The officer questioned.

“I did sir, but they forced me to.” Cordell confessed. In response, the younger patrolman popped Cordell in the back of the head with his police issued flashlight. Cordell wailed in pain.

Disgracing Cordell seemed to bring joy to the two officers. He sensed that they got a genuine thrill from shaming and belittling him. It was as if they fed on the pain they caused and were somehow energized by it. He wondered how much more he could endure. “So do you know them boys?” The cop asked.

“Yes.” Again his honesty was met with a thump in the head.

“Were they giving you a hard time?”

“Yes.” Cordell hesitantly answered. But before the pain ensued Cordell managed to move out of the way.

“Are you trying to die?” The younger officer said as he placed his hand on his gun. “Don’t make another sudden move like that boy or I’ll shoot your Black ass! You understand?”

Cordell nodded in approval, but noticed an elderly couple leisurely strolling toward them. The elder of the two officers must have noticed the mature couple approaching as well, because he signaled with his eyes to his younger partner who responded accordingly.

“We apologize for the inconvenience sir, it was a mistake in identity. You’re free to go.”

“See you soon nigger.” The older officer whispered. And then the two of them hopped in their squad car and drove away. Cordell sighed in relief.

Trying to appear as non-threatening as possible, Cordell advanced the elderly couple to thank them and introduce himself. They reacted to his amicable praise and introduction by immediately crossing the street. “Damn, I wish I wasn’t Black.” Cordell said as he watched the couple scamper away as if being chased.

When Cordell arrived at work a mere two hours late, his manager Mr Lansky met him at the door. He prepared himself for a tongue lashing. “Mr Robinson, I want to see you in my office right away!”

He followed the short, Grey haired man down the long corridor that led to his office. Cordell imagined himself as a death row prisoner taking that long walk. When they entered the drab office with its dark brown carpet and cheesy hotel-like paintings, Cordell thought it seemed like the perfect setting for an electric chair. He suddenly had the urge to speak with a priest.

“Have a seat Mr Robinson.”

“Listen sir, I can explain.” Cordell implored. “ I was stopped by the police, and they wouldn't let me leave until I answered their questions.

“This is not about your tardiness…” Mr Lansky began. “Or your lack of commitment to your job. The fact of the matter is I’ve got a new fellow starting today and I want him to use your station for a while.” His eyes were as piercing as daggers. “And in the meantime I want you to help out in the mail room.” Cordell’s mouth fell open.

“But sir I…”

“Don’t worry son…” Mr Lansky broke in. “There’s lots of brothers down there so you should feel right at home.”

“But sir I…”

“Your personal effects have already been forwarded to Mr Portman in the mail room. He’ll also have the details of your new position.”

“But sir I…”

“Now if you’ll excuse me Carnell.”

Staggered by the chain of events before noon, Cordell stood and slowly left the office. At least if I got the electric chair my day would be over he thought. “I wish I wasn’t black.” He mumbled.

The rest of his day was equally oppressive to say the least, but experience has taught him to be resilient. So Cordell managed to trudge through nearly six hours with minimal discomfort. Besides, there were so many 'brothers' down there, as Mr Lansky put it, he felt like he was at a family reunion. Oh how he wished he wasn’t Black.

Making his way home on foot, Cordell spotted the aged Mrs Mendelsohn sweeping the stoop from half a block away. He thought of their encounter this morning, but still tried to give this meeting the benefit of the doubt. “Good evening Mrs Mendelsohn.”

“Umm hmm. Why are you walking home?” She barked. “I hope you didn’t get fired cause we don’t want any welfare recipients in this building.”

Sulking past the small building superintendent, Cordell didn’t bother to check the mail as he went up the stairs. He knew it would be lying on the kitchen counter compliments of the snooping groundskeeper. It was documented in the lease that she had the right to come into the unit once a month for inspections, not once a day.

For the rest of the night, Cordell passed his time watching sitcoms that didn’t make him laugh and news programming that featured the most horrific events of the day. Dinner consisted of a bologna sandwich and a can of Mountain Dew. He then dozed off to a talk show hosted by a stand up comedian he’d never heard of. But not before praying that he could be white, and with that in mind he slept peacefully.

Startled by the buzzing of his digital clock Cordell reached for the nightstand to silence the alarm. He sighed, as he laid back down and stared blankly at the ceiling. "Well Cordell, another day another quarter. I wish I wasn't Black, then I'd make more money."

Falling out of bed, literally tangled in his sheets, Cordell struck the hardwood floor splitting his lip. He yelled as he wiped the blood on his pajama shirt. “Wow, another great day.”

“Holy shit!” Cordell yelled when he saw his reflection in the mirror. “I’m white, I’m really white!”

“Shut the hell up white boy!” The upstairs neighbor bellowed.

Unbothered by that, Cordell stared at his new reflection and admired his white skin tone. He appreciated his thin lips and nose, and ran his fingers through his straight brown hair. Afterward, he showered then dressed in a freshly pressed tan suit while whistling ‘Singing in the Rain’. He Was happy to be White.

When Cordell opened the apartment door, he was startled by Mrs Ezra Montgomery, the widowed groundskeeper who acted like she was the owner. She presumed to be vacuuming, but the vacuum was quiet and unplugged. As if on a literal smoke break, she leaned against the wall opposite his apartment with a filter-less Lucky Strike cigarette hanging from her bottom lip.

The stench of urine was overshadowed by the pungent odor of marijuana as he stepped into a dimly lit hallway. But not nearly as irking as the flies. “What you looking at fool?” A diminutive, curler wearing Black woman belted only inches from his face.

“Ummm, nothing.” Cordell stammered. “You just scared me.”

“If you scared go to church bitch!” The elderly woman countered.” Why you wanna’ live here anyway whitey?”

“I like this apartment.” Cordell lied. “So anyways, have a nice day.”

“Shut the Hell up and get outta’ my way, so I can finish my work!” The Black woman yelled.

As he ambled down the trash riddled corridor towards the front entrance, Cordell couldn’t help but appreciate the colorful graffiti on the walls.

As Cordell left the building, he paused to examine the now foreign neighborhood. He saw stripped car frames in front of abandoned buildings, overturned garbage receptacles and trash rolling like tumbleweeds. He saw drug addicts and street derelicts wandering aimlessly about, and most importantly he saw three angry looking dark skinned gentlemen staring directly at him.

Avoiding eye contact, Cordell began his commute to work. But before he was able to get a block away the three men not only gained on him, but impeded his exodus. He identified the local pushers as ‘T-Bone, L-Train and Big Mike’. “What did I tell you honky?” T-Bone questioned.

The irate Black guy brandished a chrome semi-automatic pistol in Cordell's face. Although he didn't need a weapon, because this mountain of a man had a physique that Jason Momoa would envy. The kind of muscles you get from being in prison. Call it racist if you want, but a body like that in this neighborhood meant a professional athlete or an ex-con.

After several minutes of trash talk and body blows, T-Bone and his posse accused Cordell of snitching to the police. This was the most important law of the hood next to loyalty, and should never be broken. Cordell begged and tried to explain as they pushed him into a burned out building. He even offered his wallet in recompense, but that only angered the brothers more.

“Bitch, I don’t want your money!” T-Bone grumbled as he smacked the wallet from Cordell’s hand. “I know you snitched on my folks!” He continued as he jammed the gun deep into Cordell’s throat.

“No way!” Cordell fabricated. “I would never rat your folks out. I swear to God.”

“Yeah whatever white bread chicken shit cracker!” He snarled as he squeezed the trigger.

The weapon spit its metal contents through Cordell’s chin and brain. The three dashed from sight before the body hit the ground. Police and coroners arrived on the scene a short two days later to find the cadaver naked. After identification was established, investigators would later ransack his small apartment and find evidence of a heroin addiction. The homicide was labeled a drug deal gone bad.

Be careful what you wish for.