The “R” Word

You’re a racist.  That is racism.  Awww see?  That wasn’t so hard?  It took me 3 seconds to type and even less to think.  For some people it’s like those words are not in their vocabulary.  They are reserved to describe Klancowards pictured lynching AND burning a person of color in the 1970’s, not now of course, that type of racism died with them right?  The thing is though, you don’t have to wear a hood, fly a confederate or nazi flag, or use racial epithets to be a racist.  If you lock your doors when you see a person of color approaching, clutch your purse, make racist jokes, say “why didn’t he just listen to the cops?,” “doesn’t freedom of speech protect them too?,” call WOC “mamacita, chiquita banana, etc.,” or tell me that I’m not on a partner track because I haven’t transitioned from being Jenny From the Block to being J. Lo–guess what? You’re racist.  I AM SO SORRY I HAD TO BE THE ONE THE TELL YOU THIS (just joking it’s actually my favorite thing to do) but you’re racist and you have racist ideologies.  But here’s the good news: YOU CAN CHANGE.  At any time in your life you can choose to change.  This choice you have is an illustration of your privilege and your power over POC but it is in fact a choice.  

 

My boyfriend tells me that I use the label “racist” fast and loose.  I call it having zero tolerance for bullshit.  Tomato, tomatillo, am I right?  I can call out a racist after about 10 minutes into a conversation, it’s a gift and a curse really because I’m not afraid to hurt anyone’s feelings in doing so.  In the last year it has made my circle of family and friends significantly smaller but I’ll be damned if the quality of my relationships hasn’t increased exponentially.  I used to think that it was important to try to get along with everyone despite differences, even if they were racist.  I am proudly not that person anymore.  I’m not here for the “it’s just a joke,” the “oh c’mon I can’t say ANYTHING these days without someone being offended.”  I’ve spent a large portion of my life changing the intonation of my voice when speaking to white people to completely erase any trace of an accent, not flipping a table when someone made a racist joke after we’ve just met and not losing my absolute shit when someone tries to explain to me that I’m being racist because of my blog and feelings about white people who choose to remain complacent in this fight.  So yeah, I don’t give a single fuck when you get upset because you have to think before you speak to me for a change.

POC have had to completely contort themselves around white people in the history of FOREVER, we have had to make ourselves less threatening, less loud, less flavorful, etc., or risk living up to the stereotypes they have created for us.  I can’t tell you how many times I have had to consciously keep from snapping my neck when I get heated because I didn’t want to be that kind of Mexican Girl.  This neck snap something that is in my GENES, it’s the same gene that helps me dance to salsa, cumbia and merengue, it helps me be #alwaysonbeat, it is in my soul controlled by my central nervous system unconsciously functioning at all times.  And to make sure white people aren’t uncomfortable around me, I and other POC have had to mute ourselves so that we are more acceptable to them.  I have had to bite my tongue when my old Boss said he didn’t want to put people “that don’t speak English” on a witness stand and then turn around watch him advertise on Spanish TV networks and black radio stations for their business.  I have ooohhhsaaaaa’d when my boyfriend’s friend asked me if I was outside valeting cars after we had stepped out of a party for a bit.  I have nicely explained to friends and their parents for years that my mom’s accent isn’t that heavy and if you just listen you can actually understand everything she says.  I one time had to patiently answer the question “does your dog understand your mom? you know because her accent is so heavy.”  No, the dog doesn’t understand my mom, the jerk doesn’t even understand me, you know because he’s a dog…   I’ve had to explain calmly in my own house to a guest as to why  stereotypes are not a survival technique that’s evolved from our ancestors.  This is just the tip of the iceberg, I am sure there are 1 million other examples of other POC muting themselves in the name of white people’s comfort.  But, guess what white people?  TAG YOU’RE IT.

You’ve been IT, actually.  You just keep doing that thing you do when you’re a kid after you get tagged, “the bench is base NOW, sorry tag someone else.”  But listen, the thing is the nazi, racists–your brothers, cousins, uncles and dads–marched on Charlotesville the other day with tiki torches and new balances so, it’s your turn now.  You are IT.  When they were done marching because their arch supports gave out, they all went home to your sisters, cousins, moms and aunts so, it’s your turn now. It’s your turn to THINK before you speak and act accordingly.

I know, I know it’s hard–listen I play this blog fast and loose, I wrote this in an hour and I’m probably going to get some hate texts later because of the examples I used but I still thought before I typed so I didn’t completely call out ALL my white friends.  But I have been doing this for almost 30 years (the thinking before I speak thing) and I can only imagine how it must feel to go from never having to think twice about your opinion possibly being wrong and unaccepted to having to actually think of the power your words yield.  This is going to be tough for you but it’s time.  It’s time you stop letting shit slide.  Stop not wanting to be that guy that kills the mood or challenges friends when they bring up politics, race or religion because you just want to have a good night.  Challenge your friend Jeff, your parents, your uncle, etc., when they make Black Friday jokes and black people are the punch line.  Challenge your best friend who can only relate to your brown girlfriend by making jokes about her ethnicity.  Call out your friends and family when they display even the slightest hint of racist ideologies, that’s the only way this is going to work.  Because see, we’ve been doing the work.  We’ve been marching, we’ve been getting killed in the streets by trigger happy police officers, we’ve been voting (albeit getting shut down), we’ve been writing  but we remain un-phased and we keep working.  But, it’s your turn now.  You all want an invite to the carne asada or the cook out, right?  You can get one but you need to act now.

The thing is, it starts with you.  That’s the hardest part and once you get past this little dip it’s much easier I swear, but starting with yourself is the hardest part.  Take a look at yourself and understand that you probably hold some racist ideologies.  Sure you probably aren’t wearing a hood–at least not if you’re reading this–but you’re probably making or laughing at the jokes,  you’re probably locking your doors, you’re probably complaining that the black community doesn’t help itself enough instead of calling out our government and systematic racism and you have to make a decision to stop that thought process and change.  If it makes you feel better, it’s not your fault.  Racism isn’t innate, it’s taught even the tiniest parts of it are taught.  But that just means it can be unlearned too.  But, you have to make a choice to stop being blinded by the privilege you were born into and start being proactive–step outside of your comfort zone for a change.  Unless you can call it out in yourself first you’ll always let it slide when someone else does it in front of you–and then they end up buying tiki torches in Charlotesville because you and 45 decided it was OK for Johnny to keep saying racist shit at the dinner table and you didn’t say anything to stop him.  So yeah it sucks you’re going to have to admit that you’re a little bit of a racist and then you’re probably going to have call out your best friend as being racist too but here’s the thing: you can change, if you want to.  I and millions of other POC can’t change who we are but you can change your mindset and you can challenge other white people from inside their safety net.  That’s something we can’t do so your participation is necessary.  If you want the invite anyway.

 

If you don’t want to do the work, we’re not surprised, this country was built on our backs anyway but at least do us a favor and sit down and get out of our way, because we’re pushing for progress here and we’re never going to stop.  Also don’t get mad when we call you and your friends racist if you’re not wiling to do the work we get to act accordingly.  To everyone to participated in the protest against the alt-right nazis, way to go.  We need to stay strong and united, we will not be pushed back.

 

 

 

 

Catching Backhands

Hey everyone!  I’ve been a little busy watching the fall of American Democracy to find time to write, but I’m here now to hit you with the latest installment of this Brown Girl’s Life.  One thing that is absolutely HYSTERICAL to me is when I try to talk about white privilege to people who don’t think it exists–turns out it’s really hard to discuss a concept when the other person doesn’t think the concept is real.  Normally I try to explain it using small examples so that said person can see how our experiences are different and how that can only be explained by one thing-privilege-but it doesn’t always work because sometimes there is a basic misunderstanding about what things are; for instance, compliments.

One thing I’ve noticed is that some non-POC don’t understand what a real compliment is.  For me it’s pretty simple, “nice pants,” “nice tie,” “great job on that case/job/cake,” etc.  For some reason though I’m always subject to qualifying compliments you know, “you speak English really well, I can hardly hear your accent,” “you look exotic,” “Wow, YOU’RE a lawyer?”  “You don’t even look Mexican,” etc.  I’ve gotten these compliments since I can remember, especially the “I wouldn’t have guessed you’re Mexican,” one.  When I was younger I used to think some of these were actually compliments like oh I’m just so mysterious, beautiful and exotic.  False.  Truth of the matter is, I can pass in some circles because it’s possible I’m not 100% brown so, I’m more acceptable.  Because apparently the browner you are the less acceptable you are; so, it IS a compliment to be told that you don’t seem as brown, right?  I mean why else would someone say that intending it to be a compliment, if that were not the case?

“You run fast, for a girl.”

Now I’ve come to believe that maybe some people don’t know what qualified compliments are so I’m going to list one you’ve probably heard a variation of before, “You run fast, for a girl.”  This is not a compliment.  If you’ve ever said this and meant it as a compliment, smack yourself in face and continue reading.  People run and some people run fast.  If you know someone who runs fast you can just say, “you run fast.”  You don’t have to qualify it and if you do then you don’t really think they run fast or you don’t mean your statement as a compliment-you probably just like to hear yourself speak.  It’s pretty simple, and if that explanation wasn’t clear to you, it should be now.  If it’s not, there’s a real life example of this happening to me below.

Disclaimer:  At this point in my life I’m taking the route of, if you say something to me that is intentionally offensive I’m calling you out either to your face or here.  So, please don’t start with the “time-outs” later, if you’re going to be offensive or ignorant own it the entire time, not just when you feel ballsy enough to say it to my face.  Embrace your offensiveness at all times or just DON’T BE OFFENSIVE.

 “Embrace your offensiveness at all times or just DON’T BE OFFENSIVE.”

Anyways to set the scene, my SO and I were sharing some nice quality time together and doing what I do best, I bring up race.  I had a week where it was brought up more than average in a professional setting namely at a legal proceeding where one of the judges asked me when the attorney was going to arrive.  Spoiler alert: I am the attorney.  So, we start talking about how I feel like I’m constantly being reminded of my race and how it makes me different and makes even the simplest things harder for me.  For example, we compared how many times someone asked if he was a lawyer when he walked into a courtroom, met with another attorney, met with a client, appeared at deposition, etc., to how many times it happens to me (Him: 0 Me: 1 Million and counting, and three times that week).  He had a hard time believing that people are so overtly dumb-for lack of a better word-to ask me if I was the interpreter, assistant, etc.  I told him I wished he was around to see it, just once, because it happens to me so often it’s laughable.  Currently I am working on comebacks for when this happens in a professional setting.  If you have any tips, hit my comments below!

So later that night we go out to dinner with a friend of his that was in town and some of her friends-people we hadn’t met before.  They were nice enough and we all got to chatting, my SO excuses himself to the bathroom and one of the women says to me “you have the best skin,”  “thanks,” I reply, “I’m very lucky, one of my cousins is an esthetician and she takes good care of me,” (You can find her here!) from across the table this other woman says, “I was just going to say you have the best skin too!…but you have that ethnic thing going for you,  soooo…(hand waive).”  “Yes,” I respond, “I am in fact ethnic,” in the most are you fucken kidding me tone I could muster up.  LE SIGH!  I turn around and continue talking to the person who doesn’t qualify compliments, while simultaneously saying in my head, I can’t believe HE MISSED THIS!! I”M DYING INSIDE FOR  A WITNESS TO THIS TRAVESTY I’M EXPERIENCING AT THIS BAR!  He comes back and I’m trying to shoot him telepathic messages with my eyes, “look at the blond on the other side of the table, she’s jealous of this beautiful Mexican skin and basically said it out loud in public.”  He looks back at me like why are you starring at me you creep show-message not received.

Like oh she was paying her a compliment, and that is privilege bullshit.

Now, there’s a few issues here to start, 1. Why didn’t I just call her out to her face? 2. Why didn’t anyone else say anything?  It’s pretty standard response for me, I am always struggling with being “that girl.”  You know what I’m talking about, the girl that is always calling people out for saying offensive shit and normally hears the response, “I love Mexicans, cmon!” or “Oh come on, I’m not being offensive I’m being funny.”  How about the why didn’t anyone else say anything route?  Well honestly, I don’t think anyone even realized how offensive these comments were, because it was just so normal to them.  Like oh she was paying her a compliment, and that is privilege bullshit.

Moving on: We leave the bar and all I can think is yes I’m going to tell my SO the moment we start this walk to the restaurant so he can be on the look-out for more abhorrent behavior by this so-called adult.  I don’t get a chance to, we are walking in too close of a group for me to spill the beans.  He can tell something is up because I say something like, “oh the funniest thing happened while you were in the bathroom,” followed up with another eye message: message still not received.  We sit down at the table and it’s pretty uneventful just the standard divorcee talking about how she’s getting her groove back.  Later after we eat and sans any talk about my skin or ethnicity, my SO excuses himself to the bathroom.  A random man from another table that has been hitting on said blond woman throughout dinner finally gets up, he sees his opportunity because my SO, the only guy in the group, has left the table-which is a problem all in itself.  How some men, this guy in particular, thinks women should be approached or where they see an “in” is an issue in itself but I will save that topic for another day!  Anyways, he comes over and his opening line is “I bet I can guess everyone’s race at this table.”  Now I have been out of the game for sometime (shout out to my main squeeze) but when did that become a pick-up line!?  Anyone?  Has anyone ever used that line before?  Has that gone well for anyone?  Ever?  In the history of pick up lines?!  Please let me know if it has.

So there’s four of us at the table and he gets up and while pointing respectively, says “Jewish, Jewish, definitely Jewish and Mexican,” (pointing at me).  The blond woman shouts from across the table, “See I knew it!”  I shoot back, “Yeah, it wasn’t a secret!”  This comment I guess went back to the whole, you have nice skin because you’re ethnic thing and at this very moment she realized, she was right, aha!  She had caught me!  At this point I’m annoyed and can’t believe my SO wasn’t there to witness this moment, yet again.    The night ends with us at a nightclub where the divorcee says something rude to the guy with the gift to guess everyone’s race (SHOCKING) and her not being able to understand how she offended him after she called him self-serving (DOUBLE SHOCKING).

“Yeah, it wasn’t a secret!”

The next day I tell my SO about this nonsense and he responds by saying he’s not trying to be ignorant but isn’t being told “you have great skin” a compliment?  I mean everyone tells you that.  I respond like I did above, yes THAT is a compliment but what she said wasn’t.  He didn’t really understand how what she said was different from what he said.  So I explained it in the best way I know, using examples.  “It’s like someone telling you, hey you’re really well off and successful, but you got that Jewish thing going for you.”  He responded “Oh yeah, that’s rude as fuck, I see now.”  So all of a sudden it made sense to him like yeah that’s really not OK.  Which in his defense I don’t think that’s a realization that most people ever have.

We spent the rest of the time talking about how people feel it’s OK to say things like that out loud or how that guy thought that was a fun thing to do, guess everyone’s race as a way to start a conversation.  Three times in one night I told him, that was three times in a few hours that rude shit happened to me in public, with a brand new group of people who felt that this was an appropriate way to act around someone you just met.  I wasn’t asked what I did for a living, what my hobbies were, and at one point I even overheard her ask someone what my name was–she was obviously uninterested in anything but the origin of my skin.  Point being there wasn’t an interest in the normal things you ask someone when you are meeting them for the first time and interested in actually getting to know them.  Instead, it was pointed out that I got this flawless epidermis but it’s not because I take care of it, it’s because of these roots and so it’s not really so great after all because it’s tainted by the fact that my ethnicity is the reason for it and my ethnicity isn’t white.  Sorry you’re so offended by this melanin magic, lady…

The worst is that I’m sure she didn’t even realize how that was rude to say to someone and how the other people around the table didn’t either.  There are only a few things that people of color have a step up on.  It’s not access to education, wealth, societal justice, etc., but some of us have fly melanin  and it’s because of our ethnicity that it’s great, not in spite of it.  Let us have our wins.  Learn to respect us and praise us like you do your non-POC counterparts.  You’re not appreciating and complimenting us if you’re following it up with a backhand.  So to the people who think that they’re being complimentary and not realizing this, hold yourself to a higher standard, ask yourself  why you think that being a person of color minimizes what was initially worthy of a compliment.  Do better for yourself.  We as POC know that it’s going to take more than us standing up for ourselves to get to a better place, it requires allies.  Be an ally not an obstacle or don’t be surprised when you catch backhands too.

 

 

I am NOT for YOU

Since I started writing this blog, I’ve gotten a lot of mixed reviews.  I have had POC tell me they love what I’m doing, that I’m telling OUR stories and there are others who have had some not so nice things to say.  To them I just want to say that with exception to this post, THIS BLOG ISN’T FOR YOU-these stories, these experiences and this life I write about because I fucken live it, IS NOT FOR YOU.  It’s for POC of all genders and gender identities.  It’s for my friends and family who read these entries and say “shit I went through that too, I thought I was the only one.”  It’s for my nieces who will read these one day and be reminded they are not the only ones feeling out of place in an environment that wasn’t made for them and that there is a way to overcome those feelings of inadequacy if we stick together.  It’s for my parents who read this and are proud that their daughter isn’t afraid to speak her mind.  It’s for my mom who shares this on her Facebook and reminds everyone that her daughter is beautiful and brown with all those Mexican letters!  So I’m sorry non-POC this shit right heeeeerrrrreeeee?  It’s not for you.  (side note: if you don’t get this reference this is definitely NOT for you.)

It’s not for the guys who soon after I started this blog told me that I was “making up my struggle.”  It’s not for the guys that made fun of me at that bar and said the words “Brown Girl Talks” using air quotes and a whiny voice.  I’m not surprised you can’t relate to what I write about, even though it’s true, because you know what?  This is not for you.  It’s not for you to make the name of my blog into a joke and ask if I’m running on “Brown Girl Time.”  It’s not for you when you look down on me from your privilege pedestal and have the nerve to tell me that I’m exaggerating.  It’s not for you who think bringing up my experiences in a drunken conversation is OK.  It’s not for you non-POC who try to compare our experiences to show me it’s not as bad as I’m making it seem.  It’s not for you who think it’s ok to ask me if that’s what was said or if that’s just how I felt.  It’s not for you to read, judge and think you know enough about my WOC experiences to form an opinion one way or the other.  The only thing you accomplish when you guys do that is remind me that I have so much more story telling to do.

I remember coming home that night after the bar incident and feeling like these people I knew were laughing at me and making fun of this blog that I am so proud of.  I remember feeling those familiar fears of inadequacy when I left the bar in a huff because I was fighting back tears of embarrassment because at 29 I felt 12 years old all over again.  And, I remember thinking I’m embarrassing myself I’m taking it down tomorrow.   I didn’t take this down though and BGT lives on, because soon after I realized I don’t care what you have to say because this blog isn’t for you.

This place is not for the guy that told me I should go back to writing about how much I hate white people after commenting on a link he posted on social media.  It’s not for the people that call me a bigot because I call out people who don’t believe that under-represented populations deserve human rights.  It’s not for you who tells me you can point out how I’m  a reverse racist by looking at things that I’ve posted on my blog.  It’s not for people who tell me I should take the high road when someone shits on my gender or race because that’s what you did and look at you now.  This isn’t a I hate white people blog.  This is a crush the systematic oppression, discrimination and patriarchy blog and if you happen not to be an ally for those causes then maybe that’s why you’re feeling offended.  But guess what man?  Then this blog isn’t for you.

This isn’t a place for you to tell me how I should have dealt with my past experiences and why that would have been better in your eyes.  Maybe when you become a person of color you can have an  opinion about how to deal with being the victim of racial oppression but until then, this place is not for you.  Now at this point if you’re a non-POC (and you’re still reading) you might feel like “damn BGT what is for me?  You’re not being very inclusive in this post.”  To that I say, EVERYTHING is for you so please if you feel excluded right now, turn on your TV to any channel and see yourself and your ideas represented in any news or entertainment outlet because those are already all for you.  So unless you plan on being part of the solution on how to crush the above-mentioned systems, this blog is still NOT FOR YOU.

I am not here for your judgment and opinions on how I’ve dealt with situations and why your way might have been better.  I’m not here for what direction you think I need to take with this blog.  I am not here for a non-POC telling me how I should and shouldn’t be living my life as a WOC so if that’s what you’re here for, please hit the “x” at the top of your screen because then, this blog is not for you.  I’ll also direct you to read about your white privilege and how you all of those things are completely out of line but for now just remember, this is not for you.

This post and this blog however is for YOU.  You, the person that is still reading.  You, the person that read this and didn’t roll their eyes.  You, the one who read these posts and said to themselves “who the hell says that?” in response to these stories.  You, the non-POC who identifies and checks your privilege regularly and is part of this message of unity and diversity without belittlement, this IS for you. You’re an ally and for that I thank you because when I write, it’s for people like you too.  But the rest of you who are still reading to see how this ends and think I’m dramatic and should stop snapping my neck when I talk, this blog and this post is STILL NOT FOR YOU.

(shout out to the amazing writer and the founder of Latina Rebels, Prisa Dorcas Mojica Rodriguez  (Click here to check out her FB) who after one of these incidents I saw speak and she reminded me how important it was to tell my story, without her and my BGBF who was with me that night I would have stopped writing so to you both, this IS for you.)

Wedding Guesting While Brown

One important theme I’ve been hearing lately is “humanize.”  Whether it be from other writers, friends, colleagues, or a panel at the ACLU I’m hearing “humanize” your experience, your story, your struggle.  The more you humanize your story the less likely people are to accept laws, ideas, opinions, etc. to dehumanize, degrade or belittle you and people like you.  So a lot of this blog is stories about me and people like me to humanize us and our stories that may at times be unbelievable to those on the outside looking in.

After Barack Obama was elected there was a  lot of talk going around about how we lived in a post-racial America.  I could write and refer you to a ton of sources that can better explain how incorrect that idea was but that’s neither here nor there.  I bring this up because I really think it was the beginning of the political atmosphere that we live in today, where saying racist things-and not even trying to pass them off as a joke-is somehow OK now.

This story is a perfect example of the above and oddly enough friendship.  Way back when I met my Brown Girl Best Friend (BGBF) in Law School she had a friend who was not brown but we liked her anyway 😉  The three of us became relatively close, we hung out on the weekends and even studied for the bar together.  Turned out she and my best friend had some hometown ties so she came with other friends and for the most part most of them weren’t so bad.  To be honest they were from a completely different high school clique I would have ever hung out with but in adulthood I could handle their occasional camaraderie.

Honestly, I should have called my friendship with this girl a long time ago.  One night my BGBF, this girl and I went out to dinner.  We had a little too much to drink and started talking about politics.  There are some political issues that I can stretch my belief system enough to not hate the person after we are done talking about our respective “sides” but there are a few I do not budge on–the Right to Choose is one of my non-negotiables.  So we’re on this topic and this girl says (and I’m paraphrasing) I don’t think it’s fair that my taxes should pay for them (referring to inner city minorities) to get abortions, like after a certain amount we should force them to be sterilized.  Now I was heated at this point and I should have just gotten up and walked out but I didn’t I said something like sure I can see that point because “it’s your money” (UPDATE NO I FUCKEN CAN’T) but really we need to make birth control more accessible and sexual education better so that abortion isn’t the issue it’s become. There’s way more to this story but that’s the end of my aha moment where I should have realized that this was not someone I wanted to be friends with anymore.  The rest of this story isn’t my story to tell but if my BGBF ever wants to tell it BGT is here for it, honey! (insert shimmy)

Fast forward about three years later and this girl is getting married.  Like I said I didn’t cut off the friendship so we stayed friends-and avoided politics at all costs.  So she’s getting married I’m invited, my BGBF is invited and two of our other best friends are invited too.  As a quick background my BGBF and my friend 2/3 were my friends independently in law school and eventually they started dating and fell in love-I like to consider myself part of their relationship because besides my SO they are the only people I willingly share my burritos with, hence 2/3.  The 4th spot was a nice Michigan boy (NMB), also a great friend of ours in law school.  Those four people pretty much rounded out everyone I am thankful for meeting in law school and everyone I knew well at the wedding plus the bride and her husband.

This wedding takes place in a weird Red State in a weird Red City.  I stayed with my +2’s at my BGBF’s house and that’s what inspired My Best Friend. We got ready took the obligatory Prom pose photos and headed out.  If you’ve ever been to a wedding where you are part of a small group of invitees (i.e. not family or friends from childhood) you’re already feeling a little ehhh–what will the seating chart look like, when my +2’s are dancing to a slow song will they let me cut in the middle, etc. Anyways things were a little weird, I felt like my dress was a little too short maybe a little too tight, I wasn’t completely in love with my body or my hair so I had a lot of insecurities going in.  But like any good wedding guest, I drank and danced those away!  I danced with my BGBF and my 2/3 and I got a good laugh when NMB fell asleep in the men’s bathroom.

At the end of the night we were moving to an after party at some bar “downtown” which isn’t a real downtown but whatever.  So in this weird town 2/3 calls us a lyft or uber and it takes like 10 minutes for it to show up.  While we’re waiting outside for it, watching parents and sober drivers picking up guests 2/3 get’s a notification “you’re ride has started.”  Well this was a huge shock because we were all STANDING OUTSIDE and obviously not in the car.  So 2/3 calls the driver who answers and says something like “you’re in my car aren’t you?”

Turns out there was another group, two girls and guy that were in this car who had lied about being 2/3.  Luckily the driver was in this half circle driveway and she had to stop where we were before she could exit so she pulls up and tells the group that’s currently in her car to get out. 2/3 and my BGBF, NMB and his gf go to the back seat and solo dolo BGT heads to the front seat.  Everyone is confused and the girls in the car slowly start to get out of the backseat after they realize they’re in the wrong car but Taylor (that’s his real name) is not getting out.  He’s obviously drunk and disheveled and not really understanding what’s going on.  So I open the front passenger door and I’m like “Hi you’re in the wrong car can you please get out?”

Taylor is basically pretending to not hear me, is refusing to get out.  He keeps saying this is his car he’s not getting out so I’m just responding ok this isn’t your car though please get out-progressively sassier.  At this point I’m just standing by the door waiting for him to exit.  Finally after his chickies are yelling “Taylor get out! Taylor come on!” he starts getting out.  I will say I kept saying “ok well that’s great but you need to get out now,” over and over and over and over  in response to whatever he was saying until he finally got out.

So, he finally gets out wobbles, tries to balance and starts saying whatever bullshit he was saying.  He’s yelling at me and I’m responding something along the lines of “Ok that’s great please move,” because I’m trying to get into the car.  Slowly he’s wobbling closer to me and at one point I’m looking at this guy eye to eye, he’s not very tall, I’m much more sober than he is, I still have my heels and this too short dress on but my mind immediately goes into defense mode because he’s so close to me that at one point I thought he was going to become violent so I’m prepared to kick him in the balls should he lunge at me.

Then while standing about two inches from my face says “Shut the fuck up you fucken Mexican!”  This is when the record skipped.  First of all I thought he was for sure going to go the “Go back to Mexico you fucken Mexican!” route, which has also been shouted at me, but no… I respond “Oh wow fucken shocker you’re racist!” and in the moment I say that I realize that my forever 2/3 has somehow magically appeared standing between myself and Taylor and 2/3 and NMB are now physically moving him away from me. In this moment all of that weird stuff you feel when you go to a  wedding alone with a bunch of people you don’t know very well and kind of feel like you’re on your own fell to the waist side.  2/3 said somethings I can’t really remember but I think they included something about smashing Taylor’s face in.  They pushed him out of the way as he was screaming profanities, 2/3 put me in the car and we drove away.

NMB and his girlfriend decided to stay in the ruckus and so it was just my BGBF, 2/3 and the driver who was having the weirdest night of her damn life.  Turns out this was her first night driving and probably her last!  She witnessed the entire ordeal and began to apologize to me.  “I’m so sorry, this isn’t how we are here, I swear.”  “I feel so terrible about this.” We got dropped off, told the story to a few of BGBF’s friends who met us up, they all sincerely apologized-although it wasn’t their fault-and we just tired to let it go and have a good time.  We never met back up with the wedding party, thank god, because I was mortified.

Through the remainder of the night I just remember thinking-thank God that we weren’t going to see any of them because I was so embarrassed over what happened.  Somehow while a large group of people were waiting outside this dude felt like it was OK to 1. shout at me 2. degrade me using my ethnicity as an insult.  Like I’m not embarrassed of being Mexican, no, I’m proud of it I could write a book about all of the reasons why.  But this was a get out of my face, shut up, who do you think you are talking to, you Fucken Mexican.  And everyone there knew it was an insult and he meant it as such although it wasn’t to me.  Because my ethnicity isn’t an insult and it shouldn’t be used as one, but somehow everyone understood it to be just that.  I think what made me see red was not just that he used it as such but that everyone else there understood it as an insult too.  So of course following this I didn’t want to see any of them because I felt like I would have 1. died from embarrassment or 2. fought everybody in the bar while shouting “Being Mexican isn’t an insult!”

A part of me felt really bad that this would get back to my friend and she would feel so badly that this happened at HER wedding.  Embarrassed for herself and her friend that said it-maybe in a moment of drunkenness.  Embarrassed for me being the victim of that stupidity in an environment full of strangers.  By the end of the night I wished that we could all forget it happened-even her-and that we would never talk about it again.  Of course I didn’t forget and no one else did either and we told my BGBF’s sister and the next day she was ready to drive over to Taylor’s house and punch him in the face, she had already drafted a number of messages she was ready to send him and was ready to go to bat for me because she’s fucken tough (again see My Best Friend).  Eventually I flew back to the windy city and was thankful my friend was on a two week honeymoon so I didn’t have to see her for a while and relive this.

Honestly I was expecting her to reach out to me after she got back, “Hey I heard what happened, I’m so terribly sorry,” “My husband’s friends really laid into him after that and so did I…” something like that.  I didn’t see her or talk to her again until my BGBF and 2/3 moved back to the City and we all got together for a welcome back party at her house.  I was nervous hoping that this wouldn’t be brought up, this party was basically everyone who was at her wedding and saw what happened, and I just wanted to proceed as normal.

For the most part it did until after a few drinks some of her girlfriends were saying how they hadn’t seen me since the wedding and asking how I’d been.  I was working crazy hours and my BGBF was living in DC so I wasn’t doing a lot of socializing in general but I definitely wasn’t avoiding socializing.  To that comment, my friend responded “Well you know I just stopped inviting you places because you never come out.” This is the first time we had seen each other since her wedding and this is the bullshit she said to me.  I responded with something like yeah I’ve been really busy and kept eating my burrito-yeah I’m the girl that brought a burrito to the party.  But seriously THE FUCKEN NERVE.  This girl really thought that she was the one that stopped talking to me.  She thought that she said ok I’m done with this friendship.  Newsflash: I stopped talking to you because your friend is a racist piece of shit and you did and said nothing to defend me.  Per usual someone in a position of privilege completely ignored the situation then flipped the problem so it was a me at fault not her or her friend, typical.  I can’t say I was surprised…believe them the first time they show you who they are, right?…

There’s a lot of turns I could have taken with this post and I didn’t know where it was going to go until I started writing.  Like fuck these small town, small mind assholes, am I right?!  Let’s burn that town to the ground!!  But my life’s theme is fuck this shit/scorched earth policy, so  after a few years of reflecting on this I decided not this time.  I’m choosing optimism because reliving and writing about this made me feel better not worse.

As disheartening as that entire experience was-I saw someone who I thought was my friend’s true colors-I love what it gave me.  It showed me I had the strength to walk away from a friendship that no longer served me and how that feels when you’re in that situation.  It reminded me how vital it is to not compromise your integrity and who you are because you think you need friends in a new place.  And it showed me that if you put people in their comfort zone their true feelings come out, ask Taylor.

More importantly though, it gave me this beautiful reminder of how even in a sea of terrible-I wasn’t alone and not everyone there was awful.  My forever 2/3 stepped up without me having to ask-maybe my BGBF asked him to and I didn’t realize but he didn’t have to.  His actions spoke volumes to me and his future fiancé.  I thank him every time we sit down for a meal together by letting him eat off my plate before I’ve decided I’m done, a privilege that I normally reserve for my significant other.  If you haven’t noticed food is a big deal for Brown people and sharing your food is a big deal.  I hope this realization serves as YOUR reminder that not every white guy is awful and doesn’t understand, some are on their way to being woke and if you’re lucky-like me you might just befriend one.