Since my return to Omaha two years ago, I've had many eye-raising experiences, unfortunately some of them racist ... something I wasn't used to more than 25 years ago while living in North Omaha, a predominantly black neighborhood. Either I don't remember or didn't realize that other parts of Omaha weren't exactly accustomed to seeing black people. It seems incredibly naive thinking about it now. A friend had to remind me that we went to a somewhat diverse school -- shoutout to the Central Eagles -- where white people were used to us.

Although I have no regrets about my return to Omaha and always knew my return had an expiration date, I love reconnecting with family I haven't seen in over 22 years (since I lived in Chicago), getting to know different parts of Omaha, experiencing a host of things I'd never done here before, and even reverting back to things I'd only done here, like bike riding, something I never did in Chicago strangely enough. I spent a lot of time exercising on the lakefront through the years, but I never got a bike while I lived in the Windy City.

At any rate, I've come to learn and accept that there are still people in Omaha that aren't comfortable with black people, perhaps because of their own ignorance or maybe because they've simply never been around that many blacks. Even though I lived in North Omaha a good portion of my teenage years, I also lived in Northwest Omaha when I was a little younger. So, I was accustomed to seeing a large percentage of white people as well as a large percentage of black people in North Omaha. Having lived in Chicago for a couple of decades protected me quite frankly from ever having to deal with comments like the one directed at me recently while enjoying a book at the library.

A Caucasian woman, on the other side of 60, maybe 70, briskly walked toward me at the table I was sitting at in the back of the library where other readers also sat reading at separate tables. Unfortunately, I was the lucky one to be disturbed. Seeing that she got to me almost as soon as I sat down makes me wonder if she followed me from the point when I first entered the library. She waved to get my attention first, as I had on my headphones. I removed them to hear what she wanted with me.

"I just wanted to tell you that you look really nice," the smiling woman said.

Feeling grateful and relieved for some reason, I replied excitedly, "Oh, thank you!"

Thinking she was done, I started to put my headphones back on and she continued, "I've always had a problem with your race, but you look really nice."

She didn't say this statement in a particularly quiet tone either, so my first thought was, "I wonder if the other people at the nearby tables heard what she just said to me." In retrospect, it seems strange that this was my first thought. Even though I was given a compliment and an insult at the same time, I was still concerned - to an extent - about library etiquette. I wondered if her ignorance disrupted their afternoon reading session. I wondered if they thought it was rude. But I really hoped that they were so into the words on the page by their preferred author that day, that they didn't hear a word she said. I'd also like to think that I didn't want to disrupt the safe haven of the library, where people don't get into debates, arguments and such in this peaceful place.

I do remember being keenly aware of my surroundings and for some reason, giving this woman a piece of my mind didn't seem like an option. Maybe it would've been different had she not thrown in a compliment, but maybe not. Then I also briefly thought about her being an older woman, and I still wanted to respect my elder believe it or not. Damn upbringing.

One thing I know for sure is that I was in shock. My words failed me. They certainly all swirled around in my head, but they failed to appear. With the jumbled mess in my head, I really didn't know how to respond, but knew I didn't feel good about what she said. It was as though being in the library saved her from any verbal assassination or education (depending on how you view it) I would've ordinarily given someone who said that to me.

So, instead of sharing any colorful words I may have otherwise had for her, I simply said with an awkward smile, "Uhhh, thank you." I took one last look at her and hurriedly put on my headphones, because it looked as though she wanted to say something else, perhaps explaining herself. However, I really didn't want to hear anything else she had to say. I was thinking she'd go on to tell me all of her reasons why she had a problem with my race, and I don't think I wanted to hear it. Part of me wish I had asked, "Why?" but I'm glad I didn't. I don't think our exchange would've been appropriate for the library, and it may have significantly and thoroughly disrupted everyone else's library day, including the children.

I honestly don't know who would've won the battle had we exchanged words. Well, who am I kidding? Yes, I do ... thanks to 22 years in Chicago.

Since the incident, here are a few dream responses that have surfaced in my head. Forgive me, I'm a writer, so I can go in all sorts of directions.

"Oh yeah, then why did you steal us from our homeland?"

"Awww, I'm sorry that you're having trouble accepting the fact that we're free now. So free that we have a black president ... eight years almost in the books! Isn't it fantastic?"

"If there's any group of people who have earned the right to take issue with another group of people, it's blacks against whites, you know, for those 300 years of enslavement, which many people are still suffering the effects from today."

I'm glad those words never surfaced, because I was able to ascertain moments later that the woman had some mental problems when she decided to sit down behind me at another table. It should be noted too that after she passed my table, she left me with an odor that was, quite frankly, abusive. It was the kind of horrid smell that makes your eyes water. Then I started thinking she might have been homeless even though she didn't exactly look the part. Certainly, she was mildly unkempt with her messy long gray hair, but not of the homeless kind.

I noticed she had a small purse but no reading material. It made me uncomfortable that she was sitting behind me and not reading anything, so after about 20 minutes I turned around to take a quick glance at her, and she was leaning on the table with her head resting on her forearms looking dead at me with evil in her eyes. I immediately thought of Carrie, Sissy Spacek's unforgettable character. The look she had on her face told me that I couldn't continue sitting there with her behind me, and it was almost time to leave anyway. I gathered my items and before I could get up, the strange woman got up first to leave, mean-mugging me the entire time as she walked by, the sourness of her body abusing me one last time.

As you can see, it was a strange day at the library. I've told this story to a number of people since it happened, and two of them said I should've alerted the library staff about the incident. It was something that never crossed my mind. I imagine if I did they would explain that they have mentally challenged individuals who come into the library frequently and perhaps they'd offer some type of apology. Perhaps.

It is my belief that there are certain things that could only happen in Omaha and cities similar to it where the percentage of blacks is quite low. All I could think about when driving from the library is that I would've never heard such a thing in Chicago, where it is a melting pot of people and cultures ... roughly 37 percent black, 42 percent white, 21 percent Latino. We are talking about a population that is almost equally spread across the board, especially if you break it down by the groups who are considered minorities. I've always said these are the types of communities I'm most comfortable in, because it is a great depiction of the United States of America. It's who we are. It's what a healthy community looks like.

My favorite community in Chicago by far is Hyde Park, and I lived there for nine years before moving to a predominantly black neighborhood. Most people know that Chicago is one of the most segregated cities in the country, but it does have neighborhoods that get it right, and Hyde Park is one of those neighborhoods overflowing with a rainbow of cultures.

My larger point and the hard truth is that when a city isn't that culturally diverse, white people feel incredibly comfortable asking you inappropriate and offensive questions and saying almost anything they want to you, and they don't think there's anything wrong with it. Although I haven't had another experience of this caliber since moving back to Omaha, there are a number of small things that have happened to me that I would say has me dumbfounded, but truthfully, it makes sense.

But, it shouldn't.

#diversity #culture #Omaha #Chicago #racism