I haven't had too many instances of microagression, maybe because I don't like to talk to people, but I've had one instance of microagression, one that turned into flat-out agression, which is probably why I don't like talking to people. So I was about twelve when this happened, and there was this man on the elevator with me, and it was just us two. This man, out of nowhere, just asked "How long have you been here?" See, I thought he meant how long have you been in this building, what I didn't know was the racist intent hiding in that question. I was born in and lived in the U.S. all my life, so that's why I thought he meant the building, so I answered "ten," because I wasn't sure if I lived in that building when I was a newborn, so ten would've been the best estimate. His next comment really surprised and confused me. This man, who I've never met before in my life, told me, "go back to where you came from," which took me aback because, ya know, I thought he meant how long have you been in this building. It was his floor, so he got off, and I just stood there confused about what he just said. Then I kinda got pissed at him because he's some dude who's at the end of his life who ain't got no business telling me how to live mine. So that's my microagression story (macroagression?). Thanks Ms. Lee. For making me remember that bad stuff in life.
Update (8/5/15): I got kinda bored tonight so I decided to go through some old stuff and I remembered this existed (sorry Ms. Lee). But yeah, it's been like what? 2? 4? 5 months? I don't even know anymore. Anyway, I just reread this post and it made me think about how long I've really lived in this building. I'm pretty sure I've stayed in this one building all my life. Yeah. That's all I wanted to say. Peace.
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