I took the Purple Line to the 720 to an art event on Sunday.
And this happened:
I was pouring myself some wine and a woman said, “That’s a beautiful dress you have on.” I said thanks. She went on to say it was the first time she had been at this particular establishment on Wilshire Blvd. I told her I went to this particular establishment all of them time, well rather used to.
I said the place had lots of events. Art talks, poetry, jazz…she then stopped me.
“Oh I like jazz, but I don’t like rap music, sorry. I don’t like it.”
She said three times in three different ways the reasons why she didn’t like rap music apologizing to me each time.
I didn’t remember saying I liked rap music or even that I was a big music fan, but apparently she noticed that I was different than everyone in the room being that I was the only black person there.
H/T to Racialicioius
She then continued to lecture me on the evils of rap music and how it was making children disrespectful. I didn’t say anything. I just smiled. I was curious to see how far would this go. Not talking often encourages the ignorant to get more ignorant.
“I think for the children to get opportunities, they have to stop listening to this rap music,” said the woman.
I assumed she was talking about children who looked like me.
She then told me about her black friends all three of them, who didn’t seem so much like friends, but entertainment like people who she hired to entertain her at various functions.
I didn’t really know that people you paid to dance and sing for you counted as friends.
I guess it is kind of like how Sally Hemmings was Thomas Jefferson’s girlfriend.
At this point a friend of hers came up and sat in horror with her mouth open as this woman continued to bombard me with odd racially tinged rhetoric.
I thought this was sort of funny. It also sort of was making me remember why I haven’t really left the house in a purely artistic way in over three years.
She then told me this old German story about working hard, even through the bad, because it would pay off. She said that would be better than listening to rap music.
She then tried to make me agree with all of her comments by continually stating:
I’m right? Right?
I’m right, Right?
I feel that I am correct. Correct?
I just smiled and said, “You are very interesting, tell me more about your life.”
At that point BusTard came up. He introduced me as his fiancé. She sort of got big eyed. I then left. After I left BusTard informed me that she had asked him if he were Jewish?
When he told her no, that he was of Scottish ancestry she then went on to discuss Wagner.
Yeah and people often accuse me of bringing up race too much.
by Browne Molyneux