The Invisible Black Woman

Full disclosure on this one: it’s gonna be a two-parter. So, if you’re not a fan of cliffhangers and it irks you to no end to be left hanging, here is your heads up that the ending to this episode drops tomorrow. Exhaustion of today aside, this one hit me a way yet again, so imma need a minute. If you want to have parts 1 and 2 in the same sitting, come back in about 24 hours. Thank you!

With that outta the way, here’s part 1…

Seven words is all it took to trigger an assault I didn’t see coming at all, at a time and place I didn’t expect. I was in my living room when it happened, in the middle of class. I will never forget the fallout those seven little words caused. Also, for all the ire and drama it caused, I so wish I’d gotten my money’s worth by adding, “your mama” at the end of them. To have him tell it, that’s just what I’d done—or worse.

I was 2 months into my second semester. When I first saw the list of people I was randomly paired with for my semester-long group project, apprehension gripped my stomach for a fleeting moment. Chalking it up to a knee-jerk reaction on my part, I brushed that feeling aside and got ready to jump into our virtual classroom via Zoom. The professor did the obligatory spiel, then he sent us off to breakout rooms to connect with our groupmates. By then, we were 45 minutes into a 90-minute class and I needed a break. As a chronic pain sufferer, my body never ceases to find new ways to remind me that I’m not ever quite at 100%. So as is my custom, I always like to take a moment to get up, stretch and move around so I don’t pay for it later. Since I’d spent 45 minutes on camera, I thought being in a smaller group setting would be the right time to take a small break.

And that is what led to seven words that set off an unfortunate chain of events. Once we’d said our hellos, I said, “I’m going off camera for a bit.” I thought I heard a heavy sigh and saw an eye roll from one of the tiles on my screen, but again, I was sure my eyes and ears were playing tricks on me. As we spoke, and I chimed in here and there with the rest of the group, there came a point where there was a lull in the conversation. No one, and I repeat, no one was saying a word.

And, out of nowhere, for reasons that are still very unclear to me, Mr. Sigh and Eyeroll said, “I guess I’ll go off camera and just be quiet, too.”

At that point, another groupmate piped up and said, “what?” in confusion. But then he got it and chuckled.

I didn’t. I wasn’t following because no one was saying anything so I didn’t understand why I was being called out. So, I had the nerve to ask.

“I’m sorry, I don’t follow. What’s the issue?” I decided to play dumb because surely, it couldn’t be what I thought it was.

“You’re sitting there, unengaged, saying nothing and not participating.”

“No one was saying anything. Also, I did say I needed to go off camera.”

He was too far gone by then, so there was no reasoning with him. I didn’t know.

“Like I said, I’ll just be off camera, too, since you want to not engage with the group.”

“I am engaged. I have been speaking up. I’m not entirely sure what me being on camera has to do with it.”

He then went on a very loud tirade about his upbringing and military background and how I wasn’t being respectful to him or the team.

“I don’t find your tone very respectful.”

Y’all, he lost it.

At this point—and praise sweet baby Jesus I was safely in the comfort of my own home—he leaned in, finger wagging at the screen, beet red, ratcheted all the way to 100.

It’s important to note that I have this “terrible” habit of getting calmer when someone is fully flipped out. My unfortunate experience with this is that it only makes the person madder. Something about not matching their energy seems to be very, very triggering.

So there I was, speaking very matter of factly—despite the fact that my hands were shaking and my heart was beating out of my chest—to this angry irate man who had a lot of thoughts about me being off camera. Ironically, I only planned to stay off for a minute. But now, there was no way I was coming back on.

In the middle of this showdown, I see movement out of the corner of my eye. My husband has gone from peering out of his office to full on getting ready to tag himself in. I gave him a reassuring look I had this covered, so he relaxed and just leaned on the wall waiting—just in case.

There were two other students in the group. Other than the chuckle of amusement, neither said a word as he verbally lit into me. Then he suddenly stopped, almost like a switch had been flipped. And I was thoroughly confused. Until I realized the professor had joined our breakout room.

And just as smoothly and calm as ever, he goes, “oh, good Professor, you’re here. We did have a question about the project.”

I sat there in utter disbelief. Like nothing had just happened. He lobbed the professor a question, thanked him, then proceeded to be on his best behavior.

The professor then says, “anything else?”

It was at this point that my alter ego—the one who isn’t about to let someone bully me and get away with it—definitely had something else to say.

“Yes, Professor, can you advise on what the proper code of conduct is for this project? We seem to have a difference of opinion in this group and I’d like to get that clarified.”

Sure, you may think at this juncture that I could have let sleeping dogs lie and maybe I asked for it (more on that bit later), but a) you’d be wrong, b) you’d be wrong, and c) you’d be wrong. More importantly, I wasn’t about to be left unprotected in the group chat if Mr. S & E decided to go off again.

Before the professor could even answer, another showdown occurred.

“Are you serious right now? You’re going to air our dirty laundry? Why would you pull him into this?”

He’s yelling at this point.

Ummm, last I checked, we were neither going steady nor married. I owe you nothing, sir—and that’s an insult to sirs everywhere—especially not after the way you were speaking to me.

The professor sat there with eyebrows raised as he watched the exchange continue.

I, again, calmly stated that I didn’t believe this was appropriate student conduct and we should be respectful to each other, especially if we were to work together that semester.

His response? “WHY ARE YOU STILL TALKING!?”

“Because I have just as much a right to speak as you, and I will not be spoken to in the manner in which you’re speaking to me.”

And then, then, folks, is when my professor decided to add this gem, “Now let’s everyone simmer down.”

I’m sorry … whet? You observe someone explode, talk over, and yell at someone else and you want to lay equal blame on both sides? Insert speechless emoji here.

Then, Mr. Yells a Lot decides to say, “I’m done now.”

The professor says okay and exits the chat.

Jesus, be a fence and a referee.

The rest of the group meeting went on like nothing had just happened. Like I hadn’t been verbally assaulted for having the sheer audacity to go off camera. I was fully shaken to my core.

The next morning, I got the following message from my professor:

Do you need/want to discuss yesterday’s class incident? Up to you, but if you do, let me know.

I definitely did, since I was worried that what happened would impact my grade down the road (spoiler alert, it almost did).

We scheduled time to meet so we could talk about “the incident”: the following afternoon.