This was originally intended to be a simple Instagram post. But then 200 words turned into 2500, and I remembered I have better places to share my long-form ramblings. I have no idea how many people will read this, but maybe it doesn’t matter. These thoughts and insights aren’t new, but the story and experience are mine. It’s something that has impacted me deeply; caused me to understand things I already knew and believed in a new, more visceral way. This may or may not resonate with anyone else, but it doesn’t matter to me. I’m writing it down so I never forget.
Disclaimer: I might ruffle a few feathers with this one. If you wish to comment on my writing, please first read this all the way to the end. Thanks. -E
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I had a pretty upsetting experience about a month ago while on my travels regarding profiling and assumptions. It’s taken me this long to process it, to not be upset about it anymore, and to know how to talk somewhat productively about the way it impacted me and what I’ve taken away from it. At the end of the day, turns out it’s not actually about me or my experience — it’s about the effect it had on me that relates to how I, and others, interact with the world at large. And I still might do a terrible job of talking about it. But here goes…
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Sometime back in late August I swung through Bend, Oregon on my way from Tahoe to Spokane to see an acupuncturist for the knee tendinitis I had developed in my last bikepacking race. I found a friendly woman named Eve, who happened to be an amazing practitioner and had recently started a clinic called Even Out Bend. She offered both community and private acupuncture on a sliding scale, which I love to support as I offer my services on a sliding scale as well. Being a new clinic, she had space and was willing to see me last minute. Her clinic was in a small strip mall with maybe 8 businesses and a big parking lot. I was her last client of the day, and she did such great work that I decided to stay the night in Bend and see her again on my way out in the morning. I left the clinic around 6pm and went to have a beer with my friend Lindsey at her place. Then, as I always do, I headed out to nearby BLM land to camp in the pines with no one else around.
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The next morning I went back for my 9am appointment, her first client of the day. When I came out over an hour later, all brainfoggy and floating from post-acupuncture bliss, there was a large angry man standing on the sidewalk who accosted me immediately: “Do you know anything about this van?!” “Uh, yes, that’s my van,” I stuttered, blinking my eyes against the bright light as I tried to orient myself. He was apparently the owner of the business next door to my acupuncturist, and seemed taken aback by this news. I was a nicely dressed woman, which he obviously didn’t expect to be associated with the van. “Well it’s in MY parking spot. It was here last night too. I thought someone was living in it.”
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The spot I was in was half in front of his business and half in front of the acupuncture clinic, and there were no markings. Still in a daze, I responded “oh, well I’m so sorry I parked in your spot. I didn’t realize it was yours, I didn’t see any markings. Thanks for not towing me.”
“This van was here last night too!” he replied, stating this again in a demanding tone.
“Well yes, I just had acupuncture at this clinic right here, and I had an appointment here last night as well.” I felt confused and wasn’t sure why this man was accosting me. I took a couple steps towards my van. Typically after acupuncture I sit in my vehicle until my floatiness goes away, twenty minutes or so until I feel safe to drive, but I apparently needed to get out of his spot quickly. The man raised his voice and waved his phone in my face: “I was just about to call the cops, you know camping in this lot is illegal, you can’t camp here!”
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Stunned, I finally realized what was happening. “Ummm, I’m really sorry I parked in your spot, it was an accident, but I didn’t camp here. I’m a legitimate paying customer at this business. I left after my appointment last night around 6pm, and came back 5 minutes before my morning appointment today at 9. I’m not doing anything illegal.”
I realized it was my word against his assumption that he had decided was true, and he didn’t seem to be backing down. “I’m sorry again, I really don’t see any markings on this spot…” I trailed off, realizing the parking spot wasn’t actually the issue here. I walked around to the back of my van to look for markings I might have missed, trying desperately to bring my brain back online. I felt like an idiot; I could barely form sentences.
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Just then, apparently hearing what was going on, the acupuncturist walked out of her clinic and came to my defense. She told the man I was a normal paying client and she had watched me pull out after my evening appointment and pull back in before my morning one. He turned from me and started to engage with her, and I saw my opportunity to slip away. My head was spinning. As I got into my van I heard him telling her angrily “she can’t park here, it’s illegal” and her saying something to the effect of “it’s inappropriate for you to treat my customer like this…”
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I drove down the block and parked around the corner, shaking. What if she hadn’t been there to vouch for me? What if she had gone in with her next client right away? Would he have called the cops on me, would it have been my word against his? How could I have proven I wasn’t doing anything wrong? Did this actually happen because I was parked in the wrong spot, or because I drive a passenger van with a vent and a roof box on the top that yes, I live in, but also happens to be my daily driver? I never camp illegally in towns… why would I camp in a loud stinky city when there’s so much beautiful public land around? Or was it because my vehicle is older and a little beat-up looking, obviously out of place in this affluent town?
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A couple hours later as I was driving north, the acupuncturist sent me a text message apologizing for what happened and asking if I was okay. She had managed to calm the angry man down and explain to him that just because someone drives an older vehicle that looks like a camper and chooses to use it to attend an appointment, or if they have an alternative lifestyle, it doesn’t mean they are also breaking the law. She explained to him that if he had a concern about my van it would have been more appropriate to ask, or to bring it up with her as the owner of the business I was patronizing if he was concerned, instead of making assumptions and being confrontational towards her client. I thanked her for standing up for me, for going above and beyond by following up, and apologized for any trouble I caused.
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In this experience, I was profiled and accused of doing something illegal that I didn’t do and couldn’t prove I didn’t do. I’m lucky I had a witness, as I’m unsure how it might have turned out otherwise. Being profiled for the vehicle I drive felt AWFUL. It made me feel like crying and throwing up. When I drove away from that parking lot I felt so much shame and embarrassment and never wanted to go back to that snooty town or that parking lot again. Which sucked because that acupuncturist was SO good…
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Maybe if I do go there again, I can borrow Lindsey’s car. Or maybe I’ll park a block away on the street and walk. Or maybe I’ll be bold enough to park there anyways, walk into that guy’s business, and announce that I have an acupuncture appointment and please don’t call the police on me while I’m in there. Maybe…
I sank deep into thought for the rest of my drive to Spokane.
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Okay. If you’ve made it this far through my story, thanks for sticking with me. You’re probably wondering WHY on earth I’m going on about this. Maybe it doesn’t seem like a big deal to you and you think I’m throwing a pity party. The sting of the incident has certainly worn off for me over a month, and it could be easy enough for me to just forget it ever happened. But it did, and as I’ve processed it more, I feel like the impact it’s had on me is not actually about me and my incident.
Here’s why it feels relevant to share, and here’s where many of you will slam the door in my face and tell me to shut up, but I’m going to share it anyways. I came away from this incident with two very visceral takeaways, which may seem like DUH YOU’RE NOT SAYING ANYTHING NEW (which people LOVE to tell me). And it’s true. I’m not. Y’all have heard these same insights a thousand times before. But with the state this world is in right now, and the fact that these things are still happening, I’m choosing to share my personal story and related insights anyway. If you have a problem with me opening my mouth, just move along now if you haven’t already.
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Anyways. As I drove along trying to process what had just happened, a recent Instagram post I had seen from fellow pro mountain biker Brooklyn Bell popped into my head. In this post she tells a story about being accused of stealing tampons at a gas station in her hometown of Bellingham (another affluent community in Washington), having a female clerk say “watch her” when she went to grab the tampons off the shelf, and a male clerk grab her bag out of her hands and rip through it after her response was “I’m not stealing from you.” She talked about how awful and invaded and non-human she felt and how she went out to her car and cried because everything about her experience felt so wrong.
Brooklyn is black, and if you have a mind to say that didn’t happen because of her skin color… well, just please don’t do that here. That has NEVER happened to me or to most people I know, who happen to be white. She was clearly profiled for her skin color, just as I had been for my vehicle that day.
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And here’s what has stuck with me after a month of processing my whole experience, what happened and what I thought about driving away. My takeaways and what I want to share here are twofold:
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The first theme that feels relevant from my story relates to profiling and privilege.
My incident made me think in much greater depth about the experience of those whose differences from the norm AREN’T a choice. The difference between my experience and Brooklyn’s, though still a profiling incident and maybe similar in the feelings it caused, is that the vehicle I drive and where I park it is a CHOICE. Yes, it sucks and is unfair that I was profiled for my vehicle or my preferred lifestyle or whatever. But it’s still a choice for me. I could also make the choice to settle down in an affluent town like Bend and go back to a traditional job as a physical therapist in the healthcare system and buy a newer more normal looking car so I look and behave just like everyone else, if I wanted to be universally accepted. I choose not to, but I could.
Brooklyn, and other people who aren’t white in America, can’t just choose to put on a different colored skin suit when they wake up in the morning if they want to look just like everyone else and ensure they’ll be accepted. Skin color is not a choice.
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My invitation to anyone still reading is simply to consider this fact when you find yourself thinking about the experience of those in America born into a body whose skin color is not white. Or when you find yourself feeling belligerent because I am or someone else is talking about racism again. Skin color is a fact that should not affect the way people are treated; we all supposedly “know” this, yet it does. And it is a fact that people did not and cannot choose, change, or hide; unlike other characteristics a person might be profiled for, choice or not, that they don’t have to wear on their skin.
Please consider taking an opportunity to read stories like Brooklyn’s of people of color in America; to become aware of what “white privilege,” the latest phrase that seems to trigger so many white people into shutting down or blowing up these days, actually can look and feel like in real life for those who don’t have it.
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About “white privilege.” I’ve actually been advised by my therapist, quite wisely I think, not to use that phrase if I don’t want to be eaten by the wolves. She suggested I find a different way to say it, such as “I recognize I was born into a situation that set me up for success (meaning with the “right” skin color in America but not explicitly saying that).” She’s got a point. I’m a sensitive person and the barrage of hate that’s been thrown at me when I’ve mentioned these words is real.
On the other hand, I get so sick of censoring myself for the emotional comfort of others and my own emotional safety from their hate when it comes to my ethics and values. Inclusivity and equality are values of mine, and privilege is a real thing with real consequences that I won’t pretend doesn’t exist for your comfort and my emotional safety. Male privilege, affluent privilege, citizenship privilege, white privilege, etc. It doesn’t mean we’re bad people for having it unless we use it maliciously. But it exists, and refusing to acknowledge that can be harmful in itself. Nothing can shift if we refuse to see its existence.
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Check out Brooklyn’s story if you’re interested, and consider how it might feel to be in her skin in that situation, or that of other people of color you might read about. Maybe you’ll take it farther than consideration… maybe some acknowledgement within yourself or out loud that this exists, maybe you’ll have some compassion for their experience, maybe you’ll even take some action in whatever way feels true to you if you’re so inspired.
But at the very least, if you are a white person reading this and you’re feeling shut down or angry about what I just shared, please at least take one moment to *consider* how your fellow Americans with a different skin color might be affected in ways that you aren’t. Our ability to look away and pretend this isn’t happening is the definition of privilege.
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The second theme that feels relevant from my story relates to assumptions and stories.
WE ALL, each and every human including myself, make up assumptions and stories about others (and about ourselves). Our brains are story-making machines, and acting on these stories can have a damaging impact. My invitation to anyone willing to take this on, myself included, is to notice when we’re starting to make assumptions and create stories, and to STOP when we’ve noticed that — before acting. To take a few deep breaths and ask ourselves, “okay: do I really KNOW this to be without a doubt true? Do I have enough evidence to back it up? And, if I do act on this story I’m making, what potential does it have to negatively affect this other person, myself, or the relationship?” And to really deeply consider this before acting.
Also, and I don’t want to tell anyone what to do here, but maybe please consider the possibility that perhaps the action we take could be a question instead of an accusation. In my incident, turning an assumption into a question such as “oh, it’s your van, are you camping in it? Where do you camp around here?” could have opened so many doors for conversation and connection that would have easily diffused any tension or eased any fears the man in my situation might have had about me and where I park my van overnight. We might have even had a good laugh about it in the end.
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These are strange times we’re living in, y’all. Most people’s level of general anxiety and discomfort is higher than normal and it’s understandable. I feel it too. But taking action from this place of heightened arousal, from what my friend and mentor Isabelle Tierney likes to call “the red zone” is ONLY going to lead to more conflict, more tension, more hate, and more division. And this world does NOT need that.
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I am not a perfect human, and neither is that man and neither is anyone. Our brains all like to make up scary stories. And I’ve personally taken it on as a mission to be aware of my own mental/emotional state when I start to feel my internal thermometer rising, to stop my stories in their tracks, and to remind myself that my stories are just that — stories. Which may or may not be true. Reminding myself to take a minute to take some space and some deep breaths if that’s available to me, and then to lead with a question instead of an assumption.
Or if not a question, maybe to lead with an owned feeling instead of a statement of assumed fact: “I felt nervous last night when you were being short with me. What was that about? I have this story that maybe you were pissed at something I did.” I said this to a good friend just last week, and it led to communication and connection and laughing at ourselves instead of hostile feelings due to a misunderstanding. This shit WORKS, people. Being curious instead of assumptive works. It’s hard but it’s worth it. I promise.
Epilogue:
I get a lot of haters for sharing these sorts of posts openly in public. Accusations of being a lemming and repeating things I’ve seen from “other influencers,” telling me to “come up with something new to say,” accusations of being performative, of preaching, of sounding like I think I’m better than people and telling people what to do, accusations of sharing for the purpose of “proving how good I am.” People seem to derive great pleasure from trying to shame me into silence. I suspect I’m not the only one who experiences this.
Everyone is of course entitled to their opinion about me or anything else, but so am I.
I consider this and my other platforms as rooms of my online home, and my community, and my space to share my thoughts and what feels important to me. Human rights are important to me. Equality and inclusivity are important to me. Kindness is important to me. Doing my teeny tiny insignificant part to help shift the hate and the struggle and the hurt on this planet is important to me. Even if it’s just to write it down so I can remember my own experiences and insights later and try to be the best version of my self that I can be.
So here you have it. I’m not sorry for continuing to talk about these things that feel important to me, because these issues still exist. When profiling is no longer a thing, when people acting on incorrect and unfair assumptions that hurt others is no longer a thing, I’ll stop talking about it and so will others who do. In the meantime, just wave your wand of privilege and look away if you don’t want to see or hear it. Just know how lucky you are to be able to do that.
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And for all of you who still feel the need to caution me about losing followers or support or sponsors or clients for my business because I express what’s on my heart from time to time and because that can be polarizing, as human rights and equality and kindness and self-awareness are so polarizing: I know your heart is in the right place with this, but please don’t. I’m a grown ass woman and I know very well what I’m doing and what the consequences may be. My days of being a people-pleaser who stands for nothing in order to offend no one are long over.
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I know there are some of you who don’t agree with my viewpoints or insights or my feelings or with what I stand for here, and that’s okay. You can choose to close the tab, scroll past the post, quietly unfollow me, or vocally disagree with me. I’m sure all of these things will happen.
But if you choose the latter, please respect my personal boundaries around how I wish to be treated in my space, which should be obvious and a given for how we treat others but in this day and age are not:
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1. Please do your very best to speak with kindness and respect both to me and to others in my community (ie. others who comment on my content). It is possible, though certainly challenging, to be passionate even in opposition and still be kind. Please try.
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2. Please do not make, or at least verbalize here, assumptions about my personality and character based on this post or any of my other posts. If you insist on making hateful assumptions, please keep them to yourself.
If you actually wish to know something about me, please ask. Nicely.
And please extend this to others in my community as well. Unfounded character attacks are a hard line of zero tolerance for me, and if you do this to me or anyone in my home you have overstepped a boundary and I will remove you.
Please take a minute and ask yourself if your comment could be easily seen as a character attack, and if so, do you have grounds to be making that attack? If no, please reconsider. Especially on an online platform, words matter.
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Yes, I have house rules. If you don’t like them, don’t come visit me, or at least be respectful enough to not piss all over my floor while you’re here.
My promise is to do my best to follow my own rules as well. None of us is perfect and I am certainly not immune to getting fired up regarding issues I’m passionate about. I try not to engage while in the “red zone,” and sometimes I fail, especially if I’m responding to my own boundaries being violated.
The world would be a much better place if all humans could do our best to check our assumptions, to ask questions, and to cool down before we go on attack. I promise to do my best at this, and thank you for doing yours. 🙏🏾