Yesterday I was out with my daughter who is 17 years and 9 months old. We had gone thrift shopping yet again and were getting on the bus to first stop at IHOP to eat some pancakes, then go back home. This is a regular thing for us to do, since I refuse to own a car. I’m DC to the bone and I see those Auto-Mo’-Bills for what they are. Word.

At any rate, we lined up behind other folks getting on the bus ahead of us and as usual, I was digging through my gigantic purse to find my fare card. I found it as I began to step up on the bus. Before I could scan my card, the bus operator looks right at me and says

“You lookin’ all mean! Why you ain’t smilin’?”

Excuse me, Sir? What?

I stood where I was, smiled and said “Oh, what…do I owe you a smile today? Is that going to make you feel better? Is that what you’re trying to tell me?” 

The bus driver, a Black man, looked at me and shook his head in disgust. Seriously, he was REAL MAD with my response.

Son, I can’t help you. I don’t even owe you anything, but since you were so bothered with my general countenance, enough so to comment on my lack of a smile, I gave you a lil’ something. But a smile isn’t what he wanted. What he wanted was a segue to a conversation with me. He wanted me to smile not because he wanted me to be happy or appreciate air in my lungs or the sun up in the sky. He wanted me to smile so he could feel comfortable furthering his agenda of holleration at a Pretty Black Girl Who Probably Needs A Man Cuz She Shops At The Thrift Store And Rides The Bus With Her Kid. Dot Com. 

He was disgusted with me when his attempts at creating an “In” where one didn’t exist before didn’t work. Dudes be pissed off when their Power Plays don’t work. When the Power Plays don’t work, it’s not because their timing is off or the lady just prefers not to be bothered at the moment, it’s because Black Women are “angry” and don’t know how to take a compliment or appreciate attention, ANY ATTENTION. Even from socially awkward, self-important Metro Bus operators. We ain’t shyt cuz we’re not interested. Help me, Holy Ghost. Again, I don’t owe anybody anything, least of all a smile.

A Sista can’t just rest her face in these mean streets cuz we ALWAYS have to be at the ready to make SOMEBODY else comfortable with our presence, and the only acceptable Black Girl is one that is wide open for whatever…a smiley one. But guess what? We smile when we’re good n’ damn ready and for a myriad of reasons. Authentic smiles are better:

Shout out to the Beautiful Girls on Tumblr who sent me their authentic smiles. Smiles that don't necessarily mean they wanna talk to a pressed man. Remember that.

I sat on the bus with my daughter and talked about this with her a little, since she’s a Pretty Black Girl and has to deal with this and other kinds of “commentary” as she comes and goes on her own. #StreetHarassment.  #TeachableMoments. She has to be ready for what the world will attempt to impose upon her. When we got off the bus, he tried it again:

You still lookin’ all mean!

As much as I wanted to snap back, I just ignored him. I had to be a good example for my daughter because snapping back at a pressed man on the wrong day could get a woman dead. Hell, IGNORING a pressed man on the wrong day could get a woman dead, but that right there is a lesson for another day.

~pbg