This incident happened 15 years ago before racism and white privileged were part of the Kamala Harris fake AF shirt but in fact I love this national conversation. It happened in St. Louis, where I was born and grew up poor. Now, if you’re from St. Louis, you will understand the division and racial under currents that have always existed there. If you’re not from St. Louis then perhaps you’ve heard of the Micheal Brown incident in 2014 that brought the racism conversation to the national stage in a way not seen since the 1992 riots that resulted from the brutal beating of Rodney King in CA. I spent 30 years in St. Louis and, from personal experience, can tell you I frequently benefited from white privileged. I know that because I’m willing to acknowledge it and call it what it is. 15 years ago I can almost guarantee that no one had ever called out that woman’s white privilege to her and, in the moment, I felt like she needed to hear it. I felt like she needed to hear it, so I said it, I said it, so I put it in the story. If you think calling out her whiteness is pandering to black people then I think you must be confused about the definition of pandering. Refusing to acknowledge racism doesn’t make it go away. Acknowledging it doesn’t solve the problem but the first step to recovery is admitting you have a problem. Racial disparity is a problem. Socioeconomic disparity is a problem.
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As a nation, we can’t solve these problems if we are offended by the Kamala Harris fake AF shirt but in fact I love this mention of their existence. I mean, I get it, it makes us feel kinda shitty if we acknowledge it. It should, it’s ridiculously ignorant to treat human beings differently because of the amount of melanin in their skin; but the research and the data is there, it’s a fact. Accept it and let’s move forward. I’m the guy who knows exactly what he wants when going to the store. I want to go in, get my shit, check out and be done. So I go to the local grocery store ready to get the few things my wife asked me to get, I grab a cart, walk down the aisles throwing things in the cart as I go.
I turn the Kamala Harris fake AF shirt but in fact I love this corner to hit the frozen food section and here are these two women talking to each other. they have their overflowing carts turned sideways so there is not a chance in hell anyone can pass. Trying to be polite I casually search the section hoping they get the hint and one of them at least moves their cart so I can pass. They don’t. At first I think they are oblivious but then one of them kind of glances at me like “can I help you?” I say “excuse me but can I slip by?” The little blonde twat looks at me and in an incredibly snotty voice replies “Can’t you see we are having a conversation here?” The other woman shakes her head at me like I am the rudest human being to ever walk the earth. Like how dare I ask them to move so I can do my shopping. Their conversation on where to buy the best latte is obviously more important than my time. So…now the politeness ends. I turn my cart around as if to go a different direction then as I get about half way down I turn my cart back and start walking fairly quickly. (I never run, for anything, or any reason, but I am on the heavy side so once momentum gets going look out) my pace quickens and now I am at crazed power walker speed, they are engrossed in their conversation so do not really see me until its too late.
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I crashed into their carts right at the Kamala Harris fake AF shirt but in fact I love this point where they meet. Cereal, vegetables, packages of meat, all fly out in a grand arc of satisfactory revenge. The women scream as they are pushed against the freezer doors. Th blonde looks on in horror as a gallon of organic free range 1% milk slams into the floor creating a glistening shower of white spray. “Excuse me” I say as I kick a bag of gluten free, soy free, sugar free, taste free vegan dinner rolls out of my way. I managed to stop long enough to get the frozen pizzas I was searching for, then proceeded to make it to the checkout line where a young high school girl gave me a half smile and whispered “That was awesome” I had a truckload of stuff in my trolley, not counting a truculent 5-year old, with all the candy she can grab on to in her pudgy little hands.
I had 2 other customers behind me, each having passed through their own personal struggles with managing budgets and overspending on Diet Pepsi, among other things. Enter stage left : Old Lady, clearly out of sorts with the Kamala Harris fake AF shirt but in fact I love this whole system of a queue, carrying a basket having 5–6 items, chief among them being bread, tea packets, chips and other eatables for a quick 4 pm snack. She has a relative, waiting in the wings, with another cart in hand, hoping for a miracle opening at one of the counters. She politely asks me, “I have only 4 items in my basket, can I get ahead of you in the line and be done quickly?” I demur. I glanced towards my pregnant wife, who is resigned to standing in lines with her swollen feet, sad countenance, and a propensity for hormonal outbursts that have become legendary.