Shea Kidd Brown

Are You Susan’s Dogwalker? | Shea Kidd Brown During the quarantine period of the pandemic when most of my work, our work, happened from our kitchen tables, living room couches, basement desks, and if we were lucky on our patios or porches, it was a time of connection and isolation and it changed me. It changed us. It taught me that I’m an extrovert (no shocker to anyone else…I know), I need to move my body to move out stress, and that I can do hard things. As it relates to moving my body, walking truly became a safety net and saving grace for me. I also learned that the work we do, had done NO favors for my health and remote work gave me just the amount of planning time to develop better eating and moving habits. In particular, walking became routine during this stressful time. I walked on good days, bad days, when I was tired of looking at the screen or being inside. I walked when the news cycle was too much to bear. I walked to listen. I walked to learn. On a beautiful summer day in June, I had a little more pep in my usual step during what had previously been a series of heavy days. You see, the days that had preceded were in the wake of George Floyd’s murder. These days had been met with fear, heartbreak, grief, and groundlessness as I learned of another brown body that was slain and watched a nation reckon with wasn’t new to people who look like me. This particular day was June 10, the day after facilitating a powerful virtual event on allyship in the height of an awakening in our country. After being disheartened that we were here…again, I was encouraged that more than 300 students, faculty, and staff chose to gather on Zoom to show solidarity, share collective pain, ask questions, and voice solutions. While that evening didn’t solve the world's problems, it made things in our small corner of the world feel more hopeful. So, back to my walk. I want to share why this particular one was so noteworthy. As I mentioned, the pandemic has turned me into an avid walker. By this time in the summer, I knew many of the neighbors and had created a playlist of podcasts, including Dolly Parton’s America. On this day, I started my walk with my dog, Hardy and “St. Dolly.” As I walked with purpose, my pace picked up thinking about the uplifting night that felt like what many needed. The dialogue. The listening to understand. The sheer numbers. I’ve always been an optimistic person, and this turnout reaffirmed that there was still a lot of good in the world. As you think about me walking in the neighborhood, I want you to imagine what it’s like. The sun is shining. The predominately white neighborhood is punctuated with manicured modest homes to elaborate mansions. And, because I live in East Tennessee, the foothills of the Great Smokey Mountains make it beautiful and…very hilly. Everyone is a “waver.” Like serious wavers. Every car that passes by, every neighbor in their yard, every runner and walker pounding the pavement. And, I’m one of those power-walking types. Hardy, a ferocious 8-pound Malitpoo does his best to keep up. By now, Hardy and I were in a good stride, and as we rounded the corner and I hit my one-mile mark, the podcast was getting good. I noticed one of my neighbors, a white woman who appeared to be in her early seventies, was trying to get my attention. As I mentioned, we’re a waving neighborhood, but this person was trying to ask me something. And, I couldn’t have predicted or made up the question that followed if I tried. “Hey! Are you Susan’s dog walker?” My response was admittedly a little delayed…demonstrating perplexity and disbelief. I collected myself, looked at her and said as simply and directly and respectfully as I could “No, I live in this neighborhood.” Apologetically and awkwardly, the woman quickly stuttered and stammered her way out, trying to explain away her injury. “Oh, oh, I…I’m sorry, I…I didn’t mean to offend. Your dog just looks so much like Susan’s.” Then she attempted to try to make conversation by asking me where I lived. Afterward, my heart pounding, and mind racing, I went about the business of closing my exercise ring on my watch and listening to Dolly Parton’s America while also processing what had just happened. Why was it second nature to place me, one of only black women in the neighborhood, in a position of servitude? This “nice” lady was operating in a norm where power-over is the default. Where her mind did not imagine that I could be a neighbor for starters, a teacher, a stay-at-home mom, Susan’s…friend, let alone the dean of students at a large, comprehensive flagship university. This story may be appalling to some as you hear it or could be reminiscent of another day of being Black to others. This is my lived experience. The virtual event I mentioned was truly an amazing night filled with hope of what the world could be, yet I was once again boxed in based on who my neighbor thought I should be. As I processed thi