He had signaled hate

His gesture jolted me from the rote numbness of my drive to work. I’d read about but never seen it. He had signaled hate.

It was 6:30 Thursday morning, about four blocks from my home in Baton Rouge, Louisiana. At that hour, along that street, our lower-middle class, mixed-race neighborhood is quiet, usually permitting me to ease awake before turning onto a busy thoroughfare.

I saw him from a half block away as he walked from a house toward the street. He wore a green basketball jersey and baggy trunks.

He was white. Like me.

I reflexively eased my car toward the middle of the narrow street.

Then he gestured – firmly, without furtiveness. With his left hand held just below his waist, he made the “OK” sign, thumb and index finger forming an “O,” remaining fingers erect. And he stared, his eyes connecting with mine, unmistakably seeking a co-conspirator in a gesture that the Anti-Defamation League has said can signify white power.

He had signaled hate.

He had invited me to join him in hate.

I drove on, fully awake.