Tara Clivio, Contributor

Pounding down on the hard asphalt, one leg in front of the other, sweat dripping, and the dull tiredness of too many miles wearing me down - running is not exactly a glamorous hobby. The clock tower hung above me and the knowledge that we were almost at the end of the run moved my legs, just as the muscles had packed it in. "How so much BCwhite people in a wi country, dem mus get dem BC out awi country!!"

A simple 'Good morning' would have been nice. I was a few steps behind a white man and beside another brown woman in the middle of Half-Way Tree, so I assume we were the BC white people he was referring to. Ironically, I remembered a similar scene, where in crossing a street in New York's Brookly a white driver of a clapped-out car, screamed at me saying, "Get off our roads, nigga!" So how is it that I managed to move from being a 'nigga' to a 'BC white people' without even the help of 'bleaching cream'?

Much prefer 'brownin'

I'm finding it hard to come to grips with either title, I much prefer to consider myself a 'brownin'. There is far less hatred associated with that term, and the connotations associated may be brainless, but they are harmless. Harmless is good, hatred is not. Recently, one of our own was deported after a lifetime in the United Kingdom, for preaching hate. Much of this hatred was bred in the U.K., but I fear that it will be too easy for it to flourish here.

We look for excuses for our failings or weaknesses, we blame others for our children's behaviour, reasons why we didn't win a football match, it's someone else's fault, some explanation why we couldn't have done better, why it wasn't fair. As I crossed the street decades apart in different countries, I was blamed for being too white or too black, yet it has less to do with the colour of my skin than it has to do with the state of the 'racist's' mind.

It is ironic that instead of being embraced by all the races represented in my bloodstream, instead I am hated by all races for the blood that does not represent them. Yet, at the end of this long run, I gathered with friends who represented more races than an average sitting at the United Nations.

A group united by a love of sport, a love of coffee, a good chat, lots of jokes, and a positive energy.

It occurred to me that while there is a very vocal small group who is filled with hatred and that hatred is so easily spread, there is a far greater group of people who do not seek out differences, but seek out similarities. There is a vibrant group of people who strive for excellence and who celebrate success, even if it is in others; a group of people who take responsibility for their actions and with honesty, address their weaknesses. There are so many people who show love and encouragement and clearly, these are the people to focus on.

So, as I ran through Half-Way Tree and debated in my mind the justification or lack thereof of this man's hatred, I almost missed something else: the hundreds of other Jamaicans who smiled at us, commended our fitness, encouraged us to go farther or faster, and those who just said, "Good morning!"

Tara Clivio is a freelance journalist.