I am Grocery Store Karen

This past week I became Grocery Store Karen.

I was at the checkout line buying 2 weeks’ worth of groceries for me and my husband. Both of us hate grocery shopping, so we try to go as little as possible. Since I try to be a good steward of the earth I brought my own bags, which means I need to bag the groceries myself. I don’t mind bagging my own groceries, but I feel bad making the people wait behind me because the cashier is always faster than I am bagging and, then I have to pay and usually still have groceries to bag.

This particular grocery store has a red sign asking each customer to wait until the clerk indicates you can put your things on the conveyor belt. The clerk said I could start unloading my groceries, but the person in front of me was still paying and bagging. So I unloaded at the end and then moved forward to start bagging my groceries after they left the line.

When it was my turn to pay, I looked up and saw the person behind me had put their basket on the conveyor belt as the cashier instructed and then moved forward in line with their basket to the end of the conveyor belt, which left them standing right next to me at the pay machine.

I said, “Oh, I still have to pay,” and self-assuredly gave them a look like - “Hey, move back 6 ft please.” The issue was not only with the way I said this comment and the look I gave but that this person was a young black man, likely still in high school. So now I felt like total crap because here I was, this white Karen asking this black man to give me space at the grocery store. To be fair, though, I would have said that to anyone, no matter their race, in Covid times, but irrelevant. I say that knowing full well I’ve been upset with all people who get too close to me these days, with or without a mask.

But now, I’m feeling super bad because I sound like a crazy Karen in the grocery store telling a black youth to give me space to pay for a couple of hundred dollars worth of groceries. So then I try to say what I feel like is an apology for making him wait in line because I’m taking too long but what I end up saying comes across as I’m being even more of a Karen. Something to the tune of “I still have to bag my groceries” in the most Karen, please stay out of my way, way, not my intended “I’m so sorry I’m taking forever and I still need to bag my groceries” way, I intended.

I tried to salvage this by getting sympathy from the cashier by saying “I’m so sorry it’s taking me so long.” She handled it like a pro and calmed me down saying that I could take my time and that it was ok. She brought me out of my head and into the present moment, but we all knew this was absolutely a Karen moment.

I quickly gathered the last of my items and left the grocery store feeling very ashamed.

I failed.

I failed at life.

I failed at not being a racially conscious person.

I failed at bagging groceries.

I failed for not being better.

I failed at being human.

I failed at being the self I thought I was.

I failed at mother fucking grocery shopping.

Most importantly, I failed this young black man who was just trying to get food for dinner and ran into yet another “Karen” in the world.

When I got home, I immediately told my husband what happened thinking it would make me feel better to get this out, but it didn’t. I couldn’t get this out of my head. I couldn’t let this rest, and I couldn’t rest. I had to get this out of my system somehow so I started writing everything you’re reading now.

While I can’t go back in time and have a redo, I can admit that I was wrong, learn from this, and commit to being better next time. I can’t change the past but I can change how I react next time. I can commit to being more present and not be in a negative headspace.

And most importantly, while I can’t personally say I’m sorry to this young black man for being Grocery Store Karen, I can say to everyone that I am truly sorry and I will try to be better.

There are many things I’m still working through that are deep unconscious bias growing up in white America, but I can commit that I’m trying and I will do better because that young man in the grocery store deserves better.