On my way home from a friend’s house early this morning I pass by the
local 7-11, bright lights shining onto the street beckoning me to come
on in and get some cheap, delicious, probably out-of-date and
potentially toxic treats. Well as any other red-blooded American, I had
to stop in and partake of the stale goodness. I mean, the smell of old
coffee, blue raspberry slushy, and week-old hot dogs on their 1,000th rotation in their lukewarm rotisserie is far too enticing to pass up.
As I already stated, it was pretty early (or late, depending on your particular point of view) and I had every intention of going home and straight to bed, so I didn’t want to get anything with too much sugar or caffeine or that would not sit well with me and might impede my ability to enter the sandman.
After walking up and down each aisle at least 3 to 4 times, perusing the multitude of tasty treats designed to grab the wayward travellers attention after a 15-hour drive from Tacoma to Mobile (exact travel time NOT verified by Google Maps), I decided on 2 1-liter bottles of Lipton’s Brisk Iced Tea and 2 frozen burritos (cause that isn’t too much sugar or gastrically impairing horse meat for 6:30 a.m. at all).
Well my picks complete, I make my way to the register to complete my purchase and meander home for a quick snack, then bed. I step in-line behind 3 gentlemen and wait my turn as has been common custom for a few millennia. Now it is at this point that my rudimentary tale takes its much expected turn.
It is important that I mention that each one of the persons in line in front of me was dressed slovenly, much as I was. There was not much difference in myself or these individuals (attire, height, gender) except for one simple and obvious discrepancy… skin color. Each of these men was of the white persuasion, while I am not. I’m basically what I like to call; coffee and milk, color. Now I know race is still a very sensitive subject, even in our modern, homogenized times, it is still a subject of soreness for many individuals. I also know that this blog may bring out some terrible memories or invoke painful feelings for some of its readers, but just because you don’t talk about something doesn’t mean it doesn’t exist. That being said, I continue.
So the first man in line pays and gets his goods bagged and exits the store. The 2nd man then pays for his items, gets a bag and leaves as well. The next man steps up and; 3rd verse, same as the first. Well its then my turn to finish my transaction. I place my 2 beverages and 2 burritos on the counter and wait to be rung up. Beep, beep, beep, beep; ‘$4.19 is your total sir’ is what I am told by the store’s clerk. Pretty decent deal I must admit. I then pay the man and make my way towards the door to leave, when suddenly I am approached by another man who has been standing around the entrance, not shopping, but basically looking over everyone in there for the past 15-miuntes that I was there. ‘Hey buddy, come here’ he calls out to me. Ugh, unfortunately this is where the obvious (by the title of this entry) racism kicks in (close your eyes if you’re squeamish)…
‘Hey, you got a dollar man?’ the man asks me, under his breath, as if it was a huge secret he was pan-handling for cash. ‘Man, I’m 75¢ short, you got a dollar bro’?’ he continues, trying to assuage my obvious look of disdain over the obnoxious intrusion. ‘What? A dollar? From me? What happened to those guys that just left? How come you didn’t ask them for your 75¢ or dollar?’ I retort, meanwhile I’m still handing over my currency cause I’m far too altruistic if you ask me. And here comes the twist folks; he then gives me a wink, and says; ‘Aw man, come on. You see them; you know they ain’t gonna’ hook a brotha’ up like that’. A ‘brotha’’? Really?!? Does he mean brotha’ like black-people say it cause it’s more important that way (see Zoolander for reference).
So as I’m leaving the store, an extra dollar short, I think to myself; he only asked me and not them cause they were white and I was coffee and milk… That’s straight-up RACIST! Like, WTF?!? You’re poor enough to beg, but not poor enough to ask whitey for a hand-out? I think every Caucasian out there should be pretty pissed off as well. That is a direct condemnation of your ability to support the disadvantaged, the disenfranchised, and the disillusioned as has been your birth-right from jump-street.
As we enter February and Black History Month, I think it’s time we get back to days when the poor only interrupt white people’s days and not just any ol’ person, and certainly not another ‘brotha’! Reverse racism is alive and thriving in our nation and I call upon all my white brotha’s and sista’s to stand-up and demand that you are still worthy of being harassed for your loose change like the rest of America!
As I already stated, it was pretty early (or late, depending on your particular point of view) and I had every intention of going home and straight to bed, so I didn’t want to get anything with too much sugar or caffeine or that would not sit well with me and might impede my ability to enter the sandman.
After walking up and down each aisle at least 3 to 4 times, perusing the multitude of tasty treats designed to grab the wayward travellers attention after a 15-hour drive from Tacoma to Mobile (exact travel time NOT verified by Google Maps), I decided on 2 1-liter bottles of Lipton’s Brisk Iced Tea and 2 frozen burritos (cause that isn’t too much sugar or gastrically impairing horse meat for 6:30 a.m. at all).
Well my picks complete, I make my way to the register to complete my purchase and meander home for a quick snack, then bed. I step in-line behind 3 gentlemen and wait my turn as has been common custom for a few millennia. Now it is at this point that my rudimentary tale takes its much expected turn.
It is important that I mention that each one of the persons in line in front of me was dressed slovenly, much as I was. There was not much difference in myself or these individuals (attire, height, gender) except for one simple and obvious discrepancy… skin color. Each of these men was of the white persuasion, while I am not. I’m basically what I like to call; coffee and milk, color. Now I know race is still a very sensitive subject, even in our modern, homogenized times, it is still a subject of soreness for many individuals. I also know that this blog may bring out some terrible memories or invoke painful feelings for some of its readers, but just because you don’t talk about something doesn’t mean it doesn’t exist. That being said, I continue.
So the first man in line pays and gets his goods bagged and exits the store. The 2nd man then pays for his items, gets a bag and leaves as well. The next man steps up and; 3rd verse, same as the first. Well its then my turn to finish my transaction. I place my 2 beverages and 2 burritos on the counter and wait to be rung up. Beep, beep, beep, beep; ‘$4.19 is your total sir’ is what I am told by the store’s clerk. Pretty decent deal I must admit. I then pay the man and make my way towards the door to leave, when suddenly I am approached by another man who has been standing around the entrance, not shopping, but basically looking over everyone in there for the past 15-miuntes that I was there. ‘Hey buddy, come here’ he calls out to me. Ugh, unfortunately this is where the obvious (by the title of this entry) racism kicks in (close your eyes if you’re squeamish)…
‘Hey, you got a dollar man?’ the man asks me, under his breath, as if it was a huge secret he was pan-handling for cash. ‘Man, I’m 75¢ short, you got a dollar bro’?’ he continues, trying to assuage my obvious look of disdain over the obnoxious intrusion. ‘What? A dollar? From me? What happened to those guys that just left? How come you didn’t ask them for your 75¢ or dollar?’ I retort, meanwhile I’m still handing over my currency cause I’m far too altruistic if you ask me. And here comes the twist folks; he then gives me a wink, and says; ‘Aw man, come on. You see them; you know they ain’t gonna’ hook a brotha’ up like that’. A ‘brotha’’? Really?!? Does he mean brotha’ like black-people say it cause it’s more important that way (see Zoolander for reference).
So as I’m leaving the store, an extra dollar short, I think to myself; he only asked me and not them cause they were white and I was coffee and milk… That’s straight-up RACIST! Like, WTF?!? You’re poor enough to beg, but not poor enough to ask whitey for a hand-out? I think every Caucasian out there should be pretty pissed off as well. That is a direct condemnation of your ability to support the disadvantaged, the disenfranchised, and the disillusioned as has been your birth-right from jump-street.
As we enter February and Black History Month, I think it’s time we get back to days when the poor only interrupt white people’s days and not just any ol’ person, and certainly not another ‘brotha’! Reverse racism is alive and thriving in our nation and I call upon all my white brotha’s and sista’s to stand-up and demand that you are still worthy of being harassed for your loose change like the rest of America!
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