This has never happened to me before, and since it is Martin Luther King Jr. national Holiday today in the states, I’d thought I’d share what happened to me.
Last week a friend dragged me out of my “cave” as he calls it, cause I haven’t been all that social recently and he thought I needed a night out. So we go out to this place called Clifton’s in Downtown LA, and when we got there and it was salsa night. I mean these folks knew now to dance, and we sat and watched the scene. It was people of all ages and races and everyone was having good old fashion fun.
So I got up to use the restroom and when I got there there was a line. I got in line and a pack of young Latina women walk in and cut in the line. I looked at some of the women already waiting and no one was going to say anything so I said, “Excuse me, there is a line.” Immediately I got a rude look from the girls but I didn’t care. A line’s a line. Show some respect. So, when I went into my stall I heard them snickering and making comments about my clothes. I had on a Ralph Lauren dress that a couple guys had complimented me on at the bar so I guess it was nice but they were mocking me saying things like, “Oh look at me. I’m a rich white girl with my fancy dress.” It infuriated me so as I was sitting in the stall I replied, “It’s 29.99 at Burlington Coat Factory down the street.” That shut them up. So when I left I went back to my friend and sat down and told him what occurred. Next thing I know this pack of Latinas walk up to me and point in my face and say, “You’re racist.” What? I was confused. Why am I racist. Cause I asked them not to cut in line? Cause I stood up for myself when they were making fun of my dress? It made no sense to me.
Then, they turned to my friend and said, “What are you?” And he said, “What do you think I am.” What a perfect reply. My friend is Latino; a Mexican straight out of East LA. That shut her down but, before she walked away, I guess to save face she said, “You’re too old to be here.” Again, what? Ah, okay. Age shame me, I don’t care, but don’t call me a racist.
I guess the only thing to prove that I was not racist is to me seen with a person other than my race. That is sad, but also telling.