When No Place Feels Safe: Racism, Public Health, and the Buffalo Supermarket Shooting
“I’m just popping in and out!”
Every Black child has heard this phrase at least once in their lifetime. The response is usually groans and complaints that it’s never just a quick trip. And it’s usually not. Forty-six minutes is the average time Americans spend in the grocery store. My mother would pacify us with a slice of American cheese from the deli as a snack as she towed us around the store. When we got too restless, she would send us to the other side of the store to retrieve something off of the list for her, although it never seemed to make a difference in the duration of our visit.
In Black America, the grocery store is not just a transactional site of money for food. It is a place where the Black mother’s faith is activated as she prays for a close parking spot and always affirms it with a “God is good.” It is a place where Black children are taught what brand names our family buys and store brands you can get away with. These trips with our mothers and grandmothers are where we inherit pieces of our family recipes through stories and comments about who makes the better dish as we weave through fluorescent-lit aisles. For many of us, it’s where we had our first experience with anxiety when we are left in the checkout line while she runs to grab something she forgot…
