The Day The Doors Closed | A Story Of Racism, Resilience, And Faith

The sun was bright that afternoon, warming my shoulders as I walked with purpose toward the grand, stone-faced building. The public library has always been my sanctuary—a holy ground of quiet whispers, endless knowledge, and the sacred smell of old books. My heart was light, filled with the simple, beautiful intention to study, to learn, to grow.

I carried two bags: a backpack holding my laptop and notebooks, and a tote filled with a few library books to return. They were my tools, my keys to a better future.

As I approached the entrance, two private security guards, both male and Hispanic, stepped forward. Their eyes scanned me, not with a glance, but with an assessment. They pointed to my bags. “You can’t come in with those,” one said. “They’re too big.”

I paused, confused. I’d brought these same bags countless times. I looked past them into the atrium. My confusion curdled into a cold, familiar ache in my stomach. Right there, in plain sight, were other patrons—white patrons—walking freely with massive hiking backpacks, oversized duffel bags, and rolling suitcases far larger than my two simple totes.

I pointed this out gently, my voice calm but firm. “I see others with much larger bags. Mine are just for my studies. I can show you.”

The response was a stony, unmoving “No.” The reason wasn’t the bags. The bags were the excuse. The issue was the woman holding them: a Black Jewish woman, her hair wrapped in a vibrant gele, her skin dark, her presence seemingly a threat to their sense of order. In that moment, I wasn’t a patron or a scholar; I was a problem to be managed. The door to learning, to community, to public space, was being shut in my face not because of what I carried, but because of who I am.

When Injustice Cuts Deep: Acknowledging the Wound

Maybe you’ve been there. Maybe you’ve felt the sharp sting of exclusion, the gut-punch of being judged as “less than” because of your skin, your faith, your gender, or your story. It hurts. It’s infuriating. And if we’re not careful, that pain can whisper lies: You don’t belong. You are not welcome. Your pursuit of knowledge and a better life is a threat.

I want you to know, dear reader, that your pain is valid. Your frustration is holy. God does not look away when His children are mistreated. He sees the sin of systemic racism—the same sin that has built walls and locked gates throughout history. You are seen. You are known. And you are not alone in this feeling.

The Unshakable Truth: What God Says About You

In moments like these, we must anchor ourselves in a truth far greater than the lies of prejudice. We must turn to the eternal word of God, which reminds us of our inherent, God-given dignity.

From the Old Testament:

Psalm 139:14 (NIV): I praise you because I am fearfully and wonderfully made; your works are wonderful, I know that full well.”

This verse is a battle cry for our souls. When the world tries to tell you that your beautiful Black skin, your Jewish heritage, or your identity is a problem, God declares it His wonderful workmanship. You are not an accident. You are not a mistake. You are intentionally, purposefully, and beautifully crafted by the Creator of the universe. Every time you look in the mirror, you can choose to reject the world’s narrative and affirm God’s truth: I am fearfully and wonderfully made.

From the Gospels:

Matthew 5:11-12 (NIV): “Blessed are you when people insult you, persecute you and falsely say all kinds of evil against you because of me. Rejoice and be glad, because great is your reward in heaven, for in the same way they persecuted the prophets who were before you.”

While my faith was the core of my identity they targeted, Jesus Himself prepares us for this. He doesn’t promise a life free from false accusation or unfair treatment. Instead, He reframes it. He calls us blessed in the midst of it. This doesn’t mean the pain isn’t real; it means our pain is not the end of the story. Our resilience, our continued pursuit of righteousness and education in the face of opposition, aligns us with the faithful prophets of old. Our reward is not the approval of closed-minded guards, but the affirming nod of our Father in heaven.

Choosing Resilience: The Path Forward

So what did I do that day? I stood my ground with calm dignity. I didn’t raise my voice, but I didn’t shrink back. I ensured they knew their decision was seen and challenged. Then, I turned and walked away—not in defeat, but in determination.

The goal of racism is to discourage, to disenfranchise, and to deny. Our faith calls us to do the opposite: to persevere. I found another place to study that day. I opened my books. I learned. Because my education, my calling, and my future are not in the hands of those two guards; they are in the hands of God.

A Gentle Invitation to Walk Alongside Me

This story isn’t just about me. It’s about a system that needs changing and a world that needs to see the image of God in every single person. My advocacy and writing are dedicated to this truth-telling—to sharing these stories with dignity, to educating with compassion, and to building a community that stands against injustice.

This work is a mission of the heart, and it grows stronger with community. If this post resonated with you, if you believe in a world where libraries and hearts are open to all, I warmly invite you to join me.

You can support this mission in a few simple, powerful ways:

Through Prayer: Pray for protection, wisdom, and continued resilience for me and all who face these battles daily.

Through Encouragement: Leave a comment sharing your heart or a word of support. It fuels this work more than you know.

Through Sharing: Share this post with someone who needs to hear this message or needs their eyes opened.

Through Giving: If you feel led, your financial support helps sustain this advocacy work, allowing me to dedicate more time to writing and speaking truth.

This isn’t about my story alone; it’s about our shared mission to build a more just and compassionate world, one where every person is welcomed as the fearfully and wonderful creation they are.

Thank you for reading, for caring, and for being part of this community.

With gratitude and hope,

Kohathite