BEige NIGGER

So I have noticed a curious development to the never-ending parallels my Parisian experience has with that of James Baldwin.  I have noticed, in much the same fashion I am so annoyingly used to in NYC, that EVERY TIME I enter an (public) establishment - especially the marche - security appears out of no where.  They just stand there, but they are there...staring...trying desperately to appear discreet, but AWFULLY attentive!  At times I feel like they would unpack my cart if I let them.

This is curious because, as tensions have increased in the Middle East and North Africa...and the Sun has decided once again that the picturesque blue of Paris skies suits her, I am once again walking La Rue with all of my ethnic fervor.  This coincides with the legions of eager tourists and war-torn immigrants flooding onto French soil.  Couple this with the already warped sense of EVERYBODY [but YOU] are welcome/We are NOT racist, but we will still visibly snatch purses and children from your perceived path...and well, it is making me downright Indignant as I negotiate the streets.

All of this brings me back to James Baldwin...THE PRICE of THE TICKET...where he likened the plight of the North Africans and Algerians he bore witness to someTHING all too familiar.  He observed that while as an American he enjoyed a certain liberty that French-born brown-folk could never enjoy, this made him even more aware that his Beige Brothers and Sisters were treated as THE NIGGERS of France/Paris.  They are.

As a Black American...who is adopted and clearly of questionable mix...I had taken an almost aloof stance regarding race here.  I naively believed the lore regarding race relations in Paris - come, be you and be accepted!  Coming here from NYC, having had french and African friends speak so highly of the city, I expected a foreign reflection of NYC.  The only problem is...I got it...in the worst ways.

I have seen more than my fair share of French acceptance, as these folk never fail to stare...giggle...run...sneer...be rude...or just downright obnoxious in my presence.  As the winter wore on...and my health began to be challenged, dealing with all of this stressed me to the point of disillusionment.  Now, scarred...and anxious to once again dance in the Sun...I find my spirit grey-d-out by the fallacy that is inherent to being...OVER Paris.

The Niggers of this city do as all do - endure.  Being an outsider, being of Middle-Class American stock, being a Morehouse Man, Being an artist and thinker...being a Man...I find all of this troubling.  I want to say, "Do NOT look my way, unless you are coming to say, Hey!!!"

Otherwise...nigger-shit will be coming!

Thankfully...sadly...they are off to the next THEM to ooogle....UUUUUUGH!!!

  au revoir