By Alanoud AlBukhari<\/p>\n\n\n\n
The sun shone brightly amid the grey specks of clouds, as brightly as it could during the dark days of late December. The breeze kissing my skin was chilled and bumpy. Despite the baroque weather and the shivers running through my skin, I was dining alfresco upon the sidewalk of Blackheath, London.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
A teal awning hovered above my head, shiny and old but well-maintained. The glass windows of the caf\u00e9 barely reflected the image of my face, been wiped enough times to have left a few subtle scratches on it. The shiny table beneath my arms was cold as my fingers tapped against it. The chattering that filled the dry air was loud and choppy. None of it, I minded.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cDo you know why they call Blackheath, Blackheath?\u201d My friend, Rawad, sitting across from me, questioned out of the blue.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
I shook my head in denial, having nursed no fondness towards etymologies in my spent lifetime.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
My wandering sight settled upon the church flaunting its architectural beauty before me, peering from behind my friend. Its spire lengthened up to a great height. From where I was seated, I could\u2019ve sworn it almost touched the clouds.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cThere was a plague in the mid-1300s, they called it the black death. According to some myths, this place was used as a burial pit for those who died from it, so they named it blackheath. Hundreds may have been buried once underneath this ground,\u201d she said, tapping her boot on the floor.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
I could\u2019ve commented on the unlikelihood of the assumption, but something else arrested my tongue. It was the noise behind me. A middle-aged man was arguing with a waiter about getting indoor seating, despite the packed state of the caf\u00e9.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cThat\u2019s barbaric,\u201d I turned to my friend. <\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cThe myth?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cThe plague.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
A quarter of an hour hadn\u2019t squandered when the complaints of the previous man, now seated adjacent to us, resumed once more. This time, it was about the brunch plate not accurately matching his described preferences. An extra tomato, a scarce smidgen of cayenne, etc. I\u2019d seen nitpicks like him before.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cWhy are you serving me?!\u201d He snapped at the waiter. \u201cWhat could a burr<\/em> head like you do except mess things up, huh?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n The racist slur took me back to the horrors of my childhood. My mother\u2019s tears that she would shed sometimes when they treated us the same way, the neighbors in my Arab hometown, the discrimination, and groundless insults.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cI\u2019m sorry, Sir,\u201d the waiter said. \u201cI\u2019ll get it changed right away.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cThis is the third time! Now shoot away 8-ball <\/em>and send me someone actually capable!\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n Mere moments after that, I was standing before him.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cIf you don\u2019t like it here, you can move to some other place to tend to your very specific needs,\u201d I<\/p>\n\n\n\n suggested.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cHow is this your business, lady?\u201d he shouted.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cIt is because I don\u2019t think racism is tolerated anywhere besides your sick brain anymore,\u201d I hissed.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cNow if you don\u2019t want me <\/em>to call the manager, mind yourself out of here.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n He stayed stunned before heading out. \u201cDon\u2019t need to make a fuss about it,\u201d he might have said. The waiter might have thanked me too. And though, the day was cold, so wasn\u2019t my heart anymore.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cThat was a brave thing you did there,\u201d my friend told me.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cRight. Not brave,\u201d I told her.<\/p>\n\n\n\n The afternoon was getting brighter and as church bells rang in a distance, we chatted about that city for hours longer than anticipated.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Alanoud Albukhari is a CAAD student<\/em><\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":" By Alanoud AlBukhari The sun shone brightly amid the grey specks of clouds, as brightly as it could during the dark days of late December. The breeze kissing my skin was chilled and bumpy. Despite the baroque weather and the shivers running through my skin, I was dining alfresco upon the sidewalk of Blackheath, London. […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":2801,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[28,43],"tags":[17,27,45],"class_list":{"0":"post-2800","1":"post","2":"type-post","3":"status-publish","4":"format-standard","5":"has-post-thumbnail","7":"category-features","8":"category-magazines","9":"tag-community","10":"tag-international","11":"tag-leisure"},"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/mcmmediahub.aus.edu\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/2800","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/mcmmediahub.aus.edu\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/mcmmediahub.aus.edu\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/mcmmediahub.aus.edu\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/mcmmediahub.aus.edu\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=2800"}],"version-history":[{"count":0,"href":"https:\/\/mcmmediahub.aus.edu\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/2800\/revisions"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/mcmmediahub.aus.edu\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media\/2801"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/mcmmediahub.aus.edu\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=2800"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/mcmmediahub.aus.edu\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=2800"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/mcmmediahub.aus.edu\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=2800"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}