Last night, Mark and I went out to dinner in Durham, NC. We went to the area of a few blocks of trendy independent restaurants, bookstores, and retailers intent on appealing to cool college students. We parked in a well-maintained public parking lot, surrounded by a very upscale apartment complex on one side, the shops on the other side of the street, and the swanky restaurant where Mark’s company had its holiday party on a third side. Given daylight savings time, it was still broad daylight.
As we got out of the car and started to cross the parking lot, we were stopped by a 30s-ish white guy in an expensive SUV. He rolled down his window and said, “Excuse me, can you tell me if this area is safe? I don’t know anything about Durham.” I honestly think it took me a couple of seconds to be able to answer him.
To say that he knew nothing about Durham was obviously an overstatement, because he clearly knew just enough about Durham to have 1) found his way to the trendy part of town, and 2) formed a very poor and stereotyped opinion of the city. And just to be clear, he wasn’t asking if this was a safe place to park his car. He was asking if he was going to get mugged or shot.
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