On Thursday morning, one of the people I supervise at work became a U.S. citizen. It was a long, arduous process, so on the way in that morning I stopped to pick up a small gift for him in celebration.
I went to one of the stores I never go to in Union Station — America!, with the exclamation point, so as not to be confused with the America restaurant that was a few feet away…until it closed ten years ago.
Not having much need for American flag merchandise, political swag (for both sides), or DC souvenirs, I pretty much only go into America! during cherry blossom season, to see if they have any cool new designs for those souvenirs. They never do — so I don’t think I’ve ever actually shopped there, until Thursday morning. I needed to catch the shuttle for work, so I opted for the first thing I saw: a little teddy bear with stars-and-stripes feet and ears, wearing an American flag shirt. I brought it to the register, handed it to the black man behind the counter, and in my pre-work, pre-coffee, pride and excitement for my colleague, I opened my mouth.
I immediately regretted saying anything. As he continued ringing up my purchase, the cashier continued, “You know, I don’t like everything he does, but I think Trump is doing the right thing about immigration." I said nothing, ran my credit card as fast as humanly possible, mumbled my thanks, and darted off to catch the shuttle to the office.
Even though I have had several days to process it, this interaction still troubles me deeply on multiple levels.
First, my assistant is not a woman. He’s a cisgender man. (He’s also not the one who became a citizen, that’s a different staff member, but I wasn’t awake and used “assistant” generically.) He’s very good at his job, just as I am good at mine, because women can be managers and men can be assistants, and none of this has anything to do with gender.
Second, why did I feel safe speaking up? Did I see that the cashier was black and assume he would agree with my political views? Did I not realize the conversation was political, because I was just excited for a colleague? Did I just not have enough coffee and forget that any conversation before coffee is a bad idea?
Third, I am confused by a black man supporting Trump, even if it’s only on part of his policy. (Frankly, I’m confused by anyone supporting him, but that’s a different story.) There are Trump supporters who want black people killed, or at least kept in a constant position of inferiority and fear. The president himself would never say such things out loud, but I get the distinct feeling that he only cares about Lynne Patton because having a token black friend is handy when you’re a racist.
Eventually I’ll forget about the whole interaction. It wasn’t a big part of my day, and it won’t take up space in my brain for long. But for now, I sure wish I understood it better. If I were more of an extrovert, I might want to go back to the store and ask the cashier why he assumed my assistant’s gender, and why he supports someone who doesn’t like him because of his race. But I’m not an extrovert, and I don’t need to put myself into that situation. I’ll just remain puzzled for a while.
originally posted elsenet, May 2019
I went to one of the stores I never go to in Union Station — America!, with the exclamation point, so as not to be confused with the America restaurant that was a few feet away…until it closed ten years ago.
Not having much need for American flag merchandise, political swag (for both sides), or DC souvenirs, I pretty much only go into America! during cherry blossom season, to see if they have any cool new designs for those souvenirs. They never do — so I don’t think I’ve ever actually shopped there, until Thursday morning. I needed to catch the shuttle for work, so I opted for the first thing I saw: a little teddy bear with stars-and-stripes feet and ears, wearing an American flag shirt. I brought it to the register, handed it to the black man behind the counter, and in my pre-work, pre-coffee, pride and excitement for my colleague, I opened my mouth.
“My assistant is becoming a citizen today," I said.
"Good for her for doing it the right way," the cashier replied.
I immediately regretted saying anything. As he continued ringing up my purchase, the cashier continued, “You know, I don’t like everything he does, but I think Trump is doing the right thing about immigration." I said nothing, ran my credit card as fast as humanly possible, mumbled my thanks, and darted off to catch the shuttle to the office.
Even though I have had several days to process it, this interaction still troubles me deeply on multiple levels.
First, my assistant is not a woman. He’s a cisgender man. (He’s also not the one who became a citizen, that’s a different staff member, but I wasn’t awake and used “assistant” generically.) He’s very good at his job, just as I am good at mine, because women can be managers and men can be assistants, and none of this has anything to do with gender.
Second, why did I feel safe speaking up? Did I see that the cashier was black and assume he would agree with my political views? Did I not realize the conversation was political, because I was just excited for a colleague? Did I just not have enough coffee and forget that any conversation before coffee is a bad idea?
Third, I am confused by a black man supporting Trump, even if it’s only on part of his policy. (Frankly, I’m confused by anyone supporting him, but that’s a different story.) There are Trump supporters who want black people killed, or at least kept in a constant position of inferiority and fear. The president himself would never say such things out loud, but I get the distinct feeling that he only cares about Lynne Patton because having a token black friend is handy when you’re a racist.
Eventually I’ll forget about the whole interaction. It wasn’t a big part of my day, and it won’t take up space in my brain for long. But for now, I sure wish I understood it better. If I were more of an extrovert, I might want to go back to the store and ask the cashier why he assumed my assistant’s gender, and why he supports someone who doesn’t like him because of his race. But I’m not an extrovert, and I don’t need to put myself into that situation. I’ll just remain puzzled for a while.
originally posted elsenet, May 2019