I work in the Austin neighborhood of Chicago. That's on the west side.
I am white. Every person I work with isn't white. Most people I see aren't white - except the two Mormon missionaries that happened to be walking past my park when I got off work one day.
When I'm at work, I sometimes talk like a black girl. I try not to, but it's like when you're talking to a British person at a party and after you've had a couple of drinks, you start copying their accent. It's the same thing at work. Except I'm totally sober. And have no reason whatsoever to do it.
When I get on the bus, it's common for me to be the only white girl. And because my people have been so horrible in the past, I feel obligated to always sit on the back of the bus.
I told Ms. King, one of my coworkers, that I do that. She laughed and said "Now you know what we've gone through!"
"No." I replied, "I have no idea what your struggles are like. This is guilt for being born into a race of jerks!"
No comments:
Post a Comment