The Accidental Racist

I am keenly aware of race. I always have been, and I don't know why. My family is pretty diverse, although I'm as white as you can get. Yet from the time I was very little I have always noticed race and how it affects things. When I was a kid we lived around the corner from my cousins- my father's (Daddy #2) sister's kids. They're both black (black father, Turkish mother). To this day people look at me sideways when I explain they're my cousins. As if the idea of a white kid with black cousins is preposterous. This may have put the chip on my shoulder in the first place. But for whatever the reason, I always notice racial tension and I always seem to side with whatever minority happens to be involved. Over the years my friends, particularly my black friends, have found this very funny. It does seem silly to have a white guy on the lookout for racism. If I were black I probably would have joined the Black Panthers when I was seven.

On Monday night Baby and I were in Subway (no cheap dates for bryc3, thank you very much). The kid working behind the counter was obviously in a bad mood. It looked as if nothing had been prepped, so he kept slamming things around and having to go back in the back to get stuff. I've mentioned before that I'm always nice to people working service jobs because I've been there, and it's horrible. Baby feels the same way, so we just sorta stood there and tried to make it as easy as possible on the guy. By the time he gets to us he's completely over it. He's being unprofessional and rude, but like I said we're sympathetic so we just went along.

It goes without saying that I've noticed the kid is black and he's serving two white people. If I were in his shoes, this would have pissed me off. Look, I know I'm an idiot. But it's the angry little pissant in me that gets mad about racism even though I'm white. So I completely cringe when he asks Baby, "Do you want cheese on that?" and she responds with, "Yes, White American, please." He never even pauses, but I immediately think, "Fucking whitey." And this is the woman I love.

After I pay for the sandwiches (what can I say? I'm a classy guy) and the guy goes in the back, I explain to Baby what she said and how it looked. She confirms what everyone suspects- I'm an idiot. Obviously she meant nothing by it, and obviously the guy didn't even notice. But then she starts laughing, and she tells me a story along the same lines.

Back when Baby was in college she was decorating her dorm room, and she wanted one of those reading pillows. Or at least that's what I've always called them. But apparently they're also called husband pillows. Do you know what I'm talking about? They look like this. She wanted a black one, because she's into this whole mod look. So she's with a group of her friends at the Roses department store in Fredericksburg, going through the pillow aisle looking for one. She can't find any, so she yells to her friends, at the other end of the aisle, "God damn it, I need a black husband!"

I laughed, but then I told my story.

My kid brother's nickname is "The Boy" (you might be able to see where this is going- but trust me, it's worse). I gave it to him years ago, I can't even remember why anymore. But it stuck, so he is generally referred to as that, or simply "Boy" if you're into the whole brevity thing.

The Boy and I used to work together at one of the family businesses- an electronics repair shop. One day The Boy is working behind the counter and I'm there helping him out. A black guy walks in to pick up his VCR, handing his claim check to The Boy. I volunteer to go get it from the back, in the storage room behind the counter. But when I get back there I realize there are three or four very similar models and I'm not sure which one is his. I'm too lazy to walk all the way back out, so I simply go over to the doorway between the two rooms to ask The Boy which one it is. I can't see The Boy from where I'm standing, so I'm just looking at the customer. Without hesitating, and looking right into this black man's eyes, I say in a loud, clear voice, "What's the name, Boy?"

I immediately realize what I've said, but it's too late. The guy gives me the single greatest "You have got to be fucking kidding me" look you have ever seen. I am paralyzed with embarrassment and shame. But mercifully The Boy answers immediately. The guy then gives me the "I knew you weren't that fucking stupid" look and I fetch his VCR.

Fucking whitey.