The Depth Of Hatred Poem by Romella Kitchens

I remember the manner of sympathy, it's words, it's acts are not all lost..
Two women in a supermarket in front of me in line.
Their holiday meal items on the conveyor belt.
Black like me, they were on welfare.
They conversed happily about the coming holiday.
Two women. Two human women.

Then the clerk snapped at them, "You can not purchase them chitterlings!
No. You can not have those, those THINGS. Your card just ain't gonna pay for them.
That's all. You hear? "

Chitterlings were it seemed the only meat they wanted for that meal.
I wanted to ask if I could pay for them but knew they would go to a store
that was kinder and get them.

The clerk rung up their other items then glared at them, a certain hatred
a certain disregard.
Another clerk asked her, "Hey. Why did you do that to them? You could have entered
those items under this code, not that and they would have had everything for their Christmas dinner. Why? "
No answer came, just a stern, pale jaw. Rootless anger. Glaring gray eyes even at her coworker who was her race, more like her but a kinder, feeling person.

I placed my items on the conveyor belt, my fists tight beneath the counter not to brandish, but from the tension in the air.
Then, calmness took over as I knew what to say that would cover what was done to them, possibly me, the other clerk, any other human being by that act,
at Christmas time. Not her form of Christmas, not mine, but their traditions.
My hands relaxed. Yet, I stayed ready to verbally defend any item I had.

I was fine.
I had cash and a card.
I wasn't on welfare.
I was dressed in work clothing.
I could have my items, even if she didn't want me to either.
But, I prepared for the day I would be, could be on welfare or some
other financial limitation...
Some politic, or disassociation with the human in me.
I prepared for that unspoken but harmful taking away without compunction.
I prepared for saying something about injustice and not just walking away.
And, I thanked God for the woman who wasn't 'that
way.'