The first of these moments was in middle school. Middle school in Alief is where all the Hispanic girls start having sex at their cousin's house after school and blow jobs in the bathroom at school. And when they aren't doing these things, they are (or were in the 90's) putting brown eye liner on their lips and black eye liner on their brows or getting into fights at the corner store. In class I would always let these girls copy my work. I did this out of fear and a little bit out of jealousy.
In 8th grade there was very scary girl named Mellisa who had several tattoos. I was returning from the library when Mellisa asked me, "What bitch? you want to fight?" I remember making a really stinky face then power walking to my classroom in fear she might continue her search of a fight. I later learned that she disliked me because of her brother Juan. Juan would always ask me or my friend Etima to sit in his lap and sometimes he would buy us cookies at lunch or tell us how great we would look in halter tops. I guess she didn't like this.
The second of these moments takes place on the Internet. I was searching for music on a not so popular file sharing network called Soulseek when this guy messaged me with distaste for me not sharing all of my files. He decided to call me a nigger. I thought this so strange. Who of the younger file sharing generation calls people that? It can be expected from a cankerous old white man but from a stranger on the Internet? It took me off guard. The guy and I argued about the appropriateness of his word choice but he wouldn't back down. Finally I succumbed Maury style with a "bitch you don't know me" and signed off.
As I've grown older I've been able to take these instances in with a little less fear or anger and a little more tact. I could say that I have changed my reaction because I have grown more wise, but I am not sure if that's the case. Because the last two of these instances I will share have happened at work, I think my tact has been motivated by me not wanting to loose my job. For example, through my last year of college I worked as a substitute teacher in the school district I grew up in. Most of my assignments went well. One day during standardized testing I was filling in for a teacher that was assigned hallway duty. Hallway duty mostly comprised of walking students to the bathroom (they had to be monitored at all times to discourage cheating) and watching a classroom of students while their teacher went to lunch. A teacher had to walk some forms to the front office and asked me to take over her class while she did so. At the back of the class two young women were talking. I asked them to not talk until their teacher got back from the office and the two girls were ok with this but a third was not. The third girl decided it was best to tell her friend three rows over that I was a white bitch.
I said something very teacher like. I asked her to repeat herself. Instead she rolled her eyes. I told her that it was ok, that I knew I was a white bitch and that I was sure her friend already knew it as well. I also told her that next time she should speak softer so that I couldn't hear her across the room. Eventually the assistant principal came in to check on the room and took the girl away. What bothered me most about the incident was not that I was called a bitch, but that this girl knew or correctly assumed that the color of my skin was a source of guilt or shame.
The last moment I will speak of happened just the other day at work. I was helping a young woman add money to her library card to use the printers. She became frustrated that the machine did not take debit cards and that I would not physically add the money for her. (I find it's best to not touch anyone's money, ever.) Although I was waiting patiently for her to dig through her purse and insert her dollar, she decided it was was too much for her to do and told me that it was my job to do it for her. Her exact words were, "I mean this is your job." I politely added her dollar and told her that the gentleman at the desk would be able to help her if she needed further assistance. She decided to follow me to the desk and ask for my help again. I reiterated that I could not help her any longer. Miles, the other reference person at the desk, asked if she needed anything and then left me alone with her to go find change in the back. She asked me several times what my problem was, then asked for my name, and told me she would be speaking to the manager about this. When I told her that I would be happy to get the manager for her, she said, "No, I will get her myself; white trash bitch." I removed myself from the desk and left for the break room.
In the break room I began to consider the possibility of being white trash. I looked on Wikipedia for insight into the phrase. From Wikipedia:
White trash is a term referring to lower social class white people with poor prospects and/or low levels of education. It originated as a pejorative. To call someone white trash was to accuse a white person of being economically, educationally and/or culturally bankrupt. Over time, however, the term has become less offensive with use and often is used self-referentially. White trash should be differentiated from the term redneck, as each has a unique historical etymology and context in modern usage.
According to Wikipedia I am not white trash and I shouldn't feel bad about what the woman said. But Wikipedia was not convincing so I decide to inventory my life for "white trash" moments. This is what I came up with.
1. When I was a kid I had a pet pig.
2. We once kept a sofa in our back yard.
3. I have been arrested in my front yard.
4. I dropped out of high school.
5. My sister and I once got into a fist fight over a game of Monopoly. (Police were eventually called).
6. I've plugged in our refrigerator into my neighbors outdoor electrical outlet several times without them knowing because our power had been cut off.
These things seemed significant. Some of them were quite trashy and others take some explaining but, I felt like I still had some things going for me. I read books and I finished school. I hate redneck jokes and according to Wiki, that was enough.
I realize how stupid hanging on to these moments is. Name calling and rude people happen everyday. Holding on to the bitter parts of language and the experiences they create isn't healthy but internalize things all the time. How do we stop this? How do we stop letting other people influence us? These are not retorical questions.
