I had a long day today. All I wanted to do was enjoy the breezy walk home as I geared up for the epic moment of crossing the bridge.
This has become my mental payback for a day spent with purpose.
I was immersed in the exact same disposition one evening — not so long ago — when I embarked on the same trek home after another fulfilling day.
What transpired during my journey was recorded here. But, for those who would rather have an instant overview — here it goes!
I hopped into a supermarket along the way. I decided not to ruin my diet and walked out empty handed. A few minutes later — while I was approaching the bridge —a black SUV pulled up and two men dressed exactly alike jumped out and headed towards me.
They asked to check my bag and I let them. Big mistake!
Sandra Bland knew her rights and wasn’t afraid to exert them — even in the face of death.
I don’t know my rights. So, I survived.
When it was clear that I was in fact innocent — one of the guys began to apologize profusely. I listened to his plea for understanding — as he explained that they were told I had walked in with a nearly empty bag — and walked out with it bursting at the seams.
When I got to my friend’s apartment — I collapsed on the couch and we discussed. She was convinced that I had a case. I was convinced that she was right. I was later convinced by online lawyers that she was wrong.
Nevertheless — two days later — I returned to the scene of the crime. I spoke with the manager on duty. She listened and interrupted only once.
And that was because she needed me to promise never to allow anyone to search me after I’ve left the premises.
The fact that I wasn’t in the vicinity of the supermarket automatically gave me the power to reject their offer of sifting through my bag.
If things had escalated to the point of arrest and casual manhandling — I would’ve been able to solicit the eager services of the attorney of my choice.
But, alas, I was a pussy.
I surrendered my ability to faithfully uphold the heroines who died for the victory of their independence.
I swore I would never go back to that market — but my encounter with the manager shifted my view.
She was shocked I complied under duress and proceeded to offer much-needed advice. She assured me that none of her employees would’ve reported someone doing something they didn’t do. She advised taking the matter back to the security company.
This mystery was getting out of hand.
Today, my walk was a bit guarded but still pleasant. I was dying for a snack — and this time I knew exactly what I wanted.
I went back to the scene of my discontent. I grabbed the bag of ships and paced my way to the open register.
She smiled at me and I smiled back. That familiar warmth that envelopes you — took a hold of me.
She wanted an update on my quest for justice. I told her I still needed to meet with the contact name for the security company that ordered my bag search.
She wanted me to promise that I would fight for my rights. I wanted to know how a Mexican woman I had never met before — could be so invested in my outcome.
I still don’t know the answer.
I just know that she made my night. Her genuine need to assure me that she had my bag was unexpected and beautifully curated by the gods of mercy.
Whatever sparked this interaction had to be the sign that bad things happen for a reason.
The employees at the store aren’t against me and if a couple of them are — they’ve been overrun by the ones who stand by me.
I’m not sure how this saga will end, but I do know that no matter what — it will be forever branded with a promising testimony.
The story continues…