I didn’t have a car for the first two years in college. But I had several friends who did have cars. Having a car in college is a luxury. Especially when it comes to food. So when anyone mentioned they were headed to a grocery store I usually asked if I could bum a ride.

One day, four friends and myself piled into a car and headed to the grocery store. We all had small items to get so we planned to get in and out rather quickly. We entered the store and went our separate ways. We made our selections and met back up at the cash register to pay for our items.

We got in the car, drove off and everyone started pulling out items from their pockets and underneath their clothes. They had shoplifted.

Every item I selected in that store I paid for. Stealing did not cross my mind. Had I known they were planning to steal I would not have gone with them to the store. I wasn’t raised to steal.

I just sat in the back seat with my eyes and my mouth wide open. Speechless. I couldn’t believe these girls who were my friends had just committed a crime.

They laughed about what they’d just gotten away with. The driver asked me what I took and I explained that I paid for everything because I don’t steal. The driver, who was
black and was one of my “friends,” then said, “Well, next time we’ll get a real white girl to do it.”

I didn’t say a word. I was hurt and shocked by her comment.

To quote ’80s rap group Whodini, “Friends – how many of us have them?”

I certainly figured out the answer to that question on that day.