Your Racist Friend
What would you think of someone if:
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- There were two women in the office who were almost nothing alike. Not in age, ethnicity, physical appearance, education, personality or interests. Even their names were entirely dissimilar. And yet “someone” kept calling one by the other’s name. Repeatedly. And these two women were the only brown women in the office. And “someone” didn’t mix up the names of *anyone* else.
- ‘Someone’ seemed to have a familiarity/knowledge around racial terms/slang (”Brown town, yeah that’s Brampton, or Bramledesh- you know, cuz there’s so many brown people there”).
- At a work social, a colleague was telling a story about their friend and mentioned that the friend was black and upon hearing this, “someone” turned their head around to look at the one black person sitting at the table.
- ‘Someone’ constantly used inappropriate figurative language such as “retarded,” and “lame,” even though ’someone’ works with special needs programming.
Which is why my colleagues probably think I’m a neanderthal. Following moments like these, I get an overwhelming urge to prove that I am not, in fact, a bigot, and try to work in some choice examples of how “progressive” I am into the conversation. Of course, for the most part there isn’t a ready opening to declare oneself a supporter of same sex marriage or a proponent of pluralism and equity so I just end up blurting out “helpful” phrases at random wherever I can squeeze’em in.
“I like Obama!”
“I’m travelling with my friend, who’s gay. And who I’m really really close with. He’s gay and I’m (still) close with him.”
“Wait… I have 2 Iranian friends! And they’re not even related!”
I am not David Brent.