Malik walked into Chicago’s Finest Shoes without a clear idea of what he wanted. He needed new shoes, but didn’t want to spend his entire check.  As he moved up and down the aisles, he noticed a short Indian man always just behind him. The young black teen closed his eyes, shook his head, and took a deep breath. His first instinct was to leave, but he needed new shoes by that night, and had no time to go elsewhere.

Malik stopped by the Nike display, and picked up the Kobe basketball shoes. He liked the style but knew the black and yellow colors would only cause him problems in his neighborhood. Reluctantly, he put them back, and looked around for something plain and colorless.

“Can I help you find anything?” Malik turned around and looked at the man who had been following him. The tag on his shirt read, Sam, but with one look, he knew the man’s real name was probably unpronounceable. Malik was about to say no, when a surge of teenage angst rose within him.

“Yeah, you can stop following me like I’m going to steal something.” It came out harsher than he intended, but since it was true Malik didn’t care much.

“I…I’m sorry, sir, I didn’t mean to offend you. I was just…I’m sorry.”  The man replied, lowering his head in obvious discomfort.

“Don’t be sorry, dude. Just stop being racist.”

Sam raised his head and gazed at Malik. “I am not a racist, and I said I was sorry.”

Malik could have stopped there, but his blood was hot, and it had been a long day. “Whatever, I bet you don’t follow white people around.”

Sam mumbled something unheard and then turned away.

“What was that? Don’t be a pussy, speak up for yourself.”

Sam stopped, and turned back. Malik looked into the man’s brown eyes and saw a building rage. For a second he regretted his words, and wondered if he could win in a one-on-one fight.

“I said… I have never been robbed by a white person.” Sam took a step closer to Malik.

“Well, not every black man is a criminal.” Malik flexed his knuckles in preparation.

“No, but every criminal that has robbed me was black.” The two males were inches apart.

“That’s not my fault!”

“Is it mine?”

No other customers were in the store, and with the door closed, the only sounds in the room were the heavy breathing of both men, and the rhythmic oscillations of a fan that did nothing to cool things down.

Malik wanted to hit the racist man who had insulted him and his people, but he knew if the police arrived it may not go in his favor. “Look, all I want is to not be labeled, and shop in peace.”

Sam stared at the teen.  “And all I want is to work in peace, and make it home to my family.”

“Still, you shouldn’t judge people by the color of their skin. That’s wrong.”

“What if every person who raped you was a purple man, and then a purple man and a green man entered your room, who would you watch?”
****

Thirty minutes and two cups of tea later, Malik ended up buying two pairs of shoes for the price of one. It was a special deal Sam reserved for his favorite customers. The two didn’t solve race relations in America, but they both learned a little more about a problem that can only be solved with complete honesty.