I will never forget my first big awareness of the power of the color of my skin.

I didn’t know….

It was 2009, when Bridge of Hope was becoming a place where many new arrivals were coming together to connect with other refugees, and get the necessary things they needed to live in this new land. One Saturday morning, a lady I had never met before came to find me. She was desparate for help and had heard that maybe I could help her. She was a beautiful single mother of four all under the age of twelve. She was originally from Uganda and had been in a refugee camp in Kenya before coming to the in the U.S.

My new friend put her rent check in the mail, a few days before the first, to make sure it arrived on the first, and not a day later. This is something that all my new friends do out of fear of being late on the rent. The property management reached out to her on the 6th of the month telling her they did not receive her check. Panicked, she immediately contacted the bank and found that the $1200.00 rent check had been cashed, but not by the landlord. Someone had stolen the check out of the mail, and forged their name.

The money was stolen and gone.

The landlord was demanding the rent, but there wasn’t anymore money until the first of the next month. All the money she had, went to pay the rent. Fear of eviction was upon her. She went to the bank and told them what happened, but she was dismissed. They ignored her pleas to investigate the situation which was clearly fraud, and there was no further direction offered to her. She went again and again to talk to whoever would listen. There was no help. Feeling helpless and afraid of being kicked out of her apartment, she couldn’t sleep at night. The question, “what is going to happen to me and my family?” kept racing through her mind. She went to all her friends, who were in the same financial situation as her, asking if she could borrow money, knowing they needed it back as soon as possible for their family situation. She would have money for next months rent, but there would be nothing left over to pay back her friends, but where else was she to turn? My friend continued to go into the bank, everyday for weeks, but still there were no answers or direction. My friend was losing hope. In desperation she came to find me. She explained what happened and asked if I could please help her and call the bank. I said yes.

But honestly I didn’t know what I could do. I doubted I could make a difference. I really didn’t know anything about banking, or fraud. But come to find out, I didn’t have to know anything, or really do anything.

I simply called the bank and asked to speak to the lady that my friend had been talking to. I said hello and told her my name, and the name of our organization. Within a few minutes into the conversation, the lady said it would be handled. I was shocked, “What? Really? Why?” She simply said that they would take care of it immediately, and my friend would be reimbursed for the twelve hundred dollars that was stolen.

What had the last four weeks of fear and panic been about? My friend’s perception of what was going on and what her and her children were facing was homelessness. Being new to America, the fear of not paying rent was severe and real, and because I called, two minutes later, it was handled.

I realized the horrific reality that because I, a white woman, called the bank, they moved quickly to take care of their client. Why did it take me getting involved for them to do the right thing? Why didn’t they listen to my friend and correct the situation for her from the start?

Horrified….I didn’t know that the color of her skin, would make it so she couldn’t get the help she so desperately needed.

Shocked, I didn’t know the color of my skin would make it so she could get the help she so desperately needed.

My friend, a newly arrived refugee from Africa, didn’t know that in the “land of the free” the color of her skin would be a issue.

Sadly she and many of my friends from all over the world, would learn, and many more times, that discrimination exists. Sadly, I would continue to witness and confront this type of situation, many more times and continue to.

My friend was just happy and relieved that this was finally dealt with. The fear and terror of being homeless in a new land was gone. I was angry, broken hearted, and deeply saddened that it took me, a white woman, to get justice for my dear friend.

We didnt know…..