I had a dog named Omar.
Omar was stupid.
A gangly, 165-pound, midnight-black sack of floppy ears, fur and drool, Omar was a spoiled-rotten Great Dane who required a steady supply of dog food, attention and hugs. And Omar was not just a black dog; he was a negro dog. He would casually forget that the kitchen was off-limits every time he smelled fried chicken. He didn’t lick people in the face, and he hated cold weather and rain. People who used the word would say Omar was my n*gga.
And Omar was stupid.
To be fair, I believe that all dogs are stupid, and Omar was no different. He couldn’t read. He has never answered a single Jeopardy question (not even a $100 clue), and he was so conceited that he believed everyone who saw him must have automatically wanted to pet him. Plus, he had absolutely no dog instincts. He hated rain, sun, cold, heat and nature in general. In Omar’s mind, the entirety of the outside world was just a collection of objects upon which he could piss and shit. Even during our few visits to dog parks, after a few perfunctory butt sniffs, he showed more interest in the other dog owners than his fellow canines. It was impossible to tell whether this was the result of nature or nurture, but Omar was so domesticated that he honestly believed he was just another person and therefore assumed himself to be worthy of all the rights and privileges as every other human being around him.
One rainy day, on the way home, I noticed a sign on the street near my house that simply said: “Coyotes spotted,” which didn’t worry me in the least. After all, I had studied cartoon coyotes (mostly the wily ones) extensively during my childhood and knew they were easily defeated by roadrunners, bunnies and a number of items available from the ACME corporation (which controlled 85% of the cartoon retail shipping market in the days before Amazon).
When I arrived home, I let Omar out in the backyard to do his business and went about my evening routine. Several minutes had passed when I realized that Omar hadn’t barked to come back in. Because Omar hated the rain, he usually wrapped up his backyard duties very quickly when there was inclement weather, so I walked to the window to see what he was up to.
Omar was standing face-to-face with a coyote.
Compared to Omar’s hulking, well-muscled frame, a 40-pound coyote was not very intimidating. But Omar’s animal instincts had not informed him that he was in danger. The coyote did not growl or bare its teeth, but, unlike my ignorant dog, I knew it could. The quizzical look in Omar’s eyes seemed to say, “Have we met before?” My Looney Tunes education had informed me that coyotes will sometimes attack dogs, so I grabbed a peach, ran out of the house and—because I’m not stupid—stood on the patio and threw it at the coyote, yelling “Hey!”
The coyote gracefully leaped across the three-foot fence that surrounds my backyard as Omar stood there for another half-second watching. I swear to you, I could see Omar shrug as if he was thinking: “Nice vertical leap. I wonder what that was all about?”
He bounded up the stairs and into the house, his ears slapping against his dumb dog face as he shook off the rain and lay comfortably on his dog bed. Only then did he look up at me as if to say: “Well, that was interesting. Where’s my after-shit treat, nigga?”
I had a dog named Omar.
He was stupid.
I imagine the coyote does not consider itself a monster. They were once confined to the western U.S., but because of their stealth, adaptability and fast breeding, they can now be found in nearly every habitat on the continent. Coyotes are one of the most adaptable predators in the animal kingdom. They will hunt small animals on their own, but sometimes they will attack in a pack and kill large prey.
The fact that Black people have survived the unceasing hunting expedition of American whiteness for 400 years is a wondrous testimony. Every Black person in this country draws breath only because those who came before them managed to somehow avoid a predator. Some have been lucky enough to encounter the beast when its belly was already full. Most have simply been strong enough to withstand or survive the kidnapping, the rape, the torture, lynching, segregation, face-spitting, church bombing, redlining, miseducation, economic disparities, institutional inequality, criminal injustice, disenfranchisement and all the state-sanctioned, government-sanctioned predation we call white supremacy. There is only one reason white supremacy exists, thrives and continues to grow:
White people.
I know white fragility is real. I also know that it exists because the entirety of the non-white world is conditioned to tiptoe around white people because they are the COYOTE. I know that our subconscious effort to avoid fracturing white people’s delicate sensibilities is the essence of white supremacy. Still, we code-switch. We smile. We nod. Our only goal has been to avoid the ravaging beast. We fence in our children and throw a peach when the coyote is near. But sometimes I can’t help but wonder:
What if we are the stupid ones?
While we like to think of our ancestors as brave, fearless or bold, what if they weren’t? What if we just lost the thing Harriet Tubman, Frederick Douglass, Paul Robeson, Martin Luther King Jr., Malcolm X and all of our so-called heroes always knew?
When Omar snuggled up on his dog bed, I googled “What do coyotes eat?” I discovered that, while coyotes prefer meat, they are “opportunistic omnivores.” They eat garbage, plants and only prey on smaller, weaker animals like rats and squirrels. They only risk their lives trying to take down a larger, stronger animal when they are in packs.
It's possible that my dog actually knew something that our ancestors had already figured out.
The coyote fears us.
Today’s Reading List
Celebrating the Greatest Man Who Ever Lived by Michael Harriot
The 1870 Census Attacked from New Orleans to New York for its Post-Civil War Undercount by April White
Gerrymandering Isn’t New–But We Have a Solution by Ismar Volic
Thank you KJ Kearney, Tricia Smith, Nichelle M. Hayes, amber, IamTobie, and many others for tuning into my live video! Join me for my next live video in the app.
