An eavesdrop becomes a welcomed conversation from a friendly interloper.

By Greg O’Brien

“A lie doesn’t become truth, wrong doesn’t become right, and evil doesn’t become good, just because it’s accepted by a majority”—Booker T. Washington

Baltimore’s Inner Harbor is blessed with a history that reflects its celebrated shipbuilding and steel mill past. Here one can tour the only surviving ship from the Civil War, the U.S.S. Constellation, built in 1855, and take in rows upon rows of stately brick mill factories that in re-birth now house an eclectic spate of restaurants, taverns, boutiques and lodgings. The new fills the void of the old, as celebrated redevelopment would have it.

Yet Baltimore, like so many other regions of this country, is a tale of two cities, the haves and have nots— “the best of times, the worst of times,” as Charles Dickens wrote in his seminal work. In the wake of the 2020 presidential election, Dickens words resonate.

I was in Baltimore a few weeks ago with my wife Mary Catherine, visiting my daughter Colleen, her husband Matt, and grandchildren Adeline and Timmy; my daughter is now pregnant with a third—a time of fatherly pride and reflection for me. Staying at a snug Inner Harbor hotel with my wife, I was seeking some alone time. Deep in thought about my grandchildren, all grandchildren, and the tinderbox world they face, I walked from our hotel to the nearby Oceanaire Restaurant where one can breathe in the salt air of the harbor. I came here to write, to reflect, to seek inner guidance on how this Rubik’s Cube of life fits together today. As one politically in the middle with a liberal bent on social issues, the cubes were not lining up for me. I was never good at puzzles. So I just started writing.

To my left were two individuals engaging in thoughtful discussion. I could tell they were good friends, a man and a woman, both of African descent. My reporter’s instinct in the moment was to listen-in, while pretending that I wasn’t—characteristic of my trade. Russell and Adelagun sensed the eavesdrop, and welcomed conversation from a friendly interloper. Talk of country, led to talk of politics, led to talk of race and social injustice. In short order, I was engaged in one of the most penetrating conversations of my life—a white Irish guy trying to better understand what it’s like to be black. I thought I knew somewhat, then realized that I knew nothing…It was humbling for me, the discussion that night and in follow up emails. I listened, and I read.  

Russell was raised in Trinidad and Tobago, the third of four children, all highly successful. A Roman Catholic, like me, still practices his faith with an open mind. Russell came to the U.S. in 1985 at age 25. Adelagun and her three sisters were raised in Port of Spain, Trinidad by their beloved father. “He was a complex, loving and wise man,” Adelagun says. “He was an avid reader and that was his view of the world.  We learned at an early age that books were silent friends. Through books I learned that I could expend my territory. The best of who I am is because of father. I came to this land of opportunity when I was 26 years old. Spent the first eight as an undocumented alien.  Hard, difficult years that built my backbone. I got my resident card the summer of 1996.  I was 34 years old.”  

Both Russell, now a certified healthcare project manager, and Adelagun, who holds a Ph.D. in Policy and Research, have similar perspectives on race and social justice, yet speak for themselves. Both asked that their surnames not be used; both have approved the text.

“Before I arrived here, said Russell, “I never had to think of myself as being Black because I came from a country where the population is comprised of people who came from Africa, the Middle East, China, Europe, India and other parts of the world. We all coexisted in harmony, with subtle awareness of our differences…Within the last 18 months, this country and the world became far more aware of the term “White Privilege.” To be completely transparent, I thought to myself being from Trinidad and Tobago, I may have been accustomed to “Trinidad and Tobago privilege,” but never thought about what that meant.

“The terms ‘systemic and institutional racism’ was a Come-to-Jesus moment because it occurred to me that I never experienced such while in Trinidad and Tobago. I also realized that my deceased parents never had to deal with the indignity of having to sit at the back of a bus or read a sign that reminded them where to drink ‘Colored Only’ from a water fountain. I thought about the many situations in this country where I was subjected to systemic and/or institutional racism at a time when I was too naive to identify it as racism.  

“Given the racial climate of the nation today: “African Americans have a history that is ‘ripe’ with many reasons to be angry about systemic and institutional racism. Even after the Civil Rights movement of the 1960’s the country still has a long way to go toward forgiveness and reconciliation. Many of my friends are between the ages of 35 and 65 —American and foreign-born professionals. They are truly a rainbow group in terms of race, creed, class, ethnicity, religion and sexual orientation. All of these people can fit into any corporate board room in the United States. However, some of these people, including myself, can be pulled over by a racist, corrupt police anywhere in the United States, and may become a statistic of an African American who was shot to death due to a routine traffic-stop.

“White privilege,” Russell says, “is taken for granted by the majority population in the United States because they never have to think about what they should do, in the event they are pulled over. White privilege goes well beyond a traffic stop in society today. …”

I am squirming in my seat. The closest I’ve ever come to prejudice, a moonshot and back from reality, is as working-class Irishman from a large family, growing up in Westchester County, Rye, New York, being looked down upon as an invited guest at toney country clubs. My ignorance overwhelms me now.

“As a foreigner, said Adelagun, “a minority, a black woman, and an immigrant, I had four strikes against me. Over the years, I’ve had to reckon with racial injustice in this country in all its forms: health, education, livelihood, police brutality, racial profiling, racial disparities—all leaves or fruits of white supremacy; roots of the tree of colonialism, slavery, Jim Crow and other past structural inequalities that my people have been subjected to in America and globally.” She is reminded of a Billie Holiday song recorded in 1959, ‘Strange Fruit,’ a song about racial lynching.

“Southern trees bear a strange fruit 
“Blood on the leaves and blood at the root 
“Black bodies swingin' in the Southern breeze 
“Strange fruit hangin' from the poplar trees…”

“Systemic racism,” adds Adelagun, “tells me that the seed of this strange fruit continues to rot in the present.  Just look to the brutal killings of Black people in 2020 in the United States.

“I can only speak to being a Black woman,” she says. “I will let Russell speak on the Black man. The verbal assault, the historic dehumanization of the Black woman is arguably the most overwhelming evidence of the persistent and ongoing drag from gender and race discrimination. But still we rise. In my personal life I was able to attend university and obtain my doctorate, a victory for an island “gurl” who came with nothing but the faith of the ancestors. Even with the handle of doctor. in front my name, white America sees me and my kind as workers, a view that contributes to our devaluation as mothers, wives, lovers, sisters, aunties and cousins. We have the highest level of labor market participation only because of discrimination against Black men. We are paid the lowest wages… My African American people who have only known this crucible constantly awe me. They are exemplars of brilliance, grace and resilience in the face of indignities. Black Women, Black Men, we rock! One day the victory will be ours.”

Concludes Russell, “The United States has work to do on levelling the proverbial playing field to create a country and society that allows justice to be fair to all peoples. Black people should not be negatively stereotyped and racially profiled because White people have been “taught” that all Black people are alike and for that reason we may be dangerous. We don’t have to look too far or stray too far away from the putrid 24-hour cycle of news to understand how misinformation can be spread to an entire population and people across the world.” 

In the words of William Shakespeare from his play, the Merchant of Venice, quotes Russell: “If you prick us, do we not bleed? If you tickle us, do we not laugh? If you poison us, do we not die? And if you wrong us, shall we not revenge?” 

Something for all of us to think about, for all to pray about, on the lip of horrendous turmoil in this country today, and a new president in the White House. A soul, through the grace of the Almighty, has no color. So why do we imply one? The reality has me questioning many of my past values. And I am thankful for that.