Not helping

In the course of an evening bike ride I came across some folks whose meandering on the trail caused me to divert just a bit. "You're not helping," I thought.

It was a troubling thought, because it was directed at those folks who were doing exactly what I was doing on a cool late summer evening. They weren't particularly aware of how their presence was affecting me any more than I was aware of how my presence was affecting them. But somehow, in my mind, their actions were related to how I would perceive not only them, but the entire artificial category of human beings that I believed they represented.

But, you see, no one ever looks at me and judges all so-called "White" people by the way I behave.