Racism and Bagels 2.0

Remember that bagel shop story I told a couple of years ago?

Today I was in the same place, and there was a different older white guy. This one is a regular (like me). I've seen him there a number of times, usually with the same older guy who was across the table from him today. I've had the sense I probably wouldn't like their politics from things I've overheard, but I've been doing a good job of not listening to them or not sitting near them or something.

Until today.

Today, I was already sitting down when they got their food and sat a few tables away from me. One of the shop's long-time staffers was also sitting near me on her break. She has a friendly, teasing relationship with all of the regulars, so one of the men started talking to her and, though I wasn't paying attention, his voice was loud enough that some of his words got through into my brain.

First I heard him say something about his Trump bumper sticker. Then something about the rally in Minneapolis. Then about being at Tin Cups (a Saint Paul bar on Rice Street known as a center for anti-progressive backlash), and while he was there something about how he didn't mind being called racist and homophobic (and somehow implying that he wasn't those things).

Now mind you — at this point, I was still trying to ignore all of this.

But then he said something about "Indians" and made a type of war whoop sound with his hand and mouth. At which point, the shop staffer sitting across from him said, still in her usual joking tone of voice, "Now wait a minute, I've got family who are American Indian, you can't say things against Indians" (or something along those lines).

To which he responded, "I'm not saying anything against indians, just Pocahontas. I'm more indian than Pocahantas" (and then he started saying something about his roof or something I didn't catch).

But by then I had stood up with my coat and said to him, "If you think it's important to not be seen as racist, it's probably a good idea to not say things that are racist."

He said something again about not being racist, and I said something back (I don't remember what because I was leaving the shop).

I know what I said had no effect on him.

I wish I had done more to say to him that — not even getting into his retrograde worldview — it's just ugly to unload your politics on people who are trying to earn a living in customer service and who know they have to be nice to you. That he's just rude, on top of everything else.

But how do you even start in this kind of situation?

__

Ha not ha. The way I found my earlier post on this topic was by searching the words bagel and racist.
 

What a Way to Go

A few days ago, I was sitting in a Friendly's restaurant in upstate New York. In the booth next to me was a 30ish white guy with what I would usually describe as a hipster beard, but given where the Friendly's was located and the fact that he was wearing a ball cap with rifles screen printed onto it... maybe not a hipster.

Anyway, he was talking to two people across the table from him, and I wasn't listening to them, I really wasn't. But suddenly one phrase sprang out and lodged in my ear:

"She hates me. Some day she's going to kill me with a pasta salad."

Interrupting

The bagel shop was a bit busier than usual, so I had to get in line behind a half-dozen people, which put me near a farmhouse-style table where three people were seated. As I dug my phone out of my pocket to kill time while waiting, I heard the voices from the table and glanced over at them.

The speaker was a white man, probably around 70. His companions were two white women of a similar age or just a bit younger. He was doing almost all of the talking, and his voice, while not the loudest I’ve heard in a restaurant, was prominent enough to carry well beyond the table. I could hear him pretty clearly, and when the sound in the rest of the place ebbed, anyone within 10 or 12 feet would be able to hear him, too.

I don’t remember what he said exactly because my mind was switching into fight-or-flight mode, with adrenaline starting to hit my bloodstream and the shaking that comes with that. But it was racist as hell. He wasn’t using the N word, or saying people deserved to die, or anything along those lines. But he made repeated statements about how he didn’t understand black culture, how it was deficient, how black people can’t help themselves, how they trash houses and neighborhoods… things like that.

Now mind you, there was an African American employee of the bagel shop standing five feet in front of me, working dutifully. He probably couldn’t hear this jerk, but I could, the person in line behind me could, the person ahead of me probably could, and the four or five people at adjacent tables could.

Then for a moment the conversational background noise of the restaurant faded and I clearly heard the guy saying something positive about Bill Cosby’s lecturing of his fellow black people and knew the young employee might be able to hear him also.

I got out of the line and stood at the end of the farmhouse table, shaking and quaking for a half-second. The three of them looked at me as I started to speak. “Excuse me, sir,” I said in what I hope was a fairly even tone. “I know you have the right to sit here and express your opinions, but could you please keep your voice down so the rest of us don’t have to listen to you?”

I think that’s what I said. I know I’ve remembered the beginning and the ending correctly… I can’t quite recall how I put the part about him being able to express his opinions. I didn’t say he was a racist or characterize his words in any way, except by saying that I didn’t want to listen to them.

They all looked at me in astonishment.

I went back to the line, ordered my food, paid for it, and sat down. By the time I got to a table on the other side of the room, they had left.

I may have ruined his day. I guess I kind of hope I did. I wonder if he has any idea why a white lady not that much younger than him would say she didn’t want to hear what he had to say. I wonder if the other two women agreed with him or were just too polite to tell him to shut up.

It’s a weird thing. He wasn’t proclaiming to the other people in the room on purpose, or directly addressing a person of color with his racism. The situation wasn’t like the one with “your racist uncle at Thanksgiving,” exactly, where you're sharing a common social space and there are impressionable young nieces and nephews listening, as NPR's Gene Demby has put it.

So when is it okay to interrupt racist speech?

I think because he was speaking loudly enough to impinge on the space of a dozen other people, it was appropriate. If he hadn’t been speaking loudly I wouldn’t have heard him and wouldn’t have said anything, right? If he wanted to stand on a street corner and spout off, he would have the right to do that, and anyone else would have the right to heckle him back, or even shout louder than him. But in a private space like a restaurant, or maybe on a bus, what would you do?

I was shaking for another 15 minutes as I calmed down. Ruined my lunch, mostly. But I'm glad I did it; it would have been ruined worse if I hadn't.

Obviously a Player

Overheard between two young women at a shopping mall:

Woman 1: "Have you ever played Words with Friends on Facebook?"

Woman 2: "What's that?"

Woman 1: "Um, well, you create words. With friends."

And an unrelated followup tweet from Twin Cities writer Molly Priesmeyer:

Words with Friends sounds like the outcome of some sort of assertiveness training seminar. I'd like to try this thing.

For the record, Daughter Number Three does not play Words with Friends.

Keep Your Hair to Yourself

I recently saw six adults from a family at a restaurant, gathered around a table. There was a little girl with them, maybe three or four years old, who had beautiful, long curly hair.

Their waitress came by the table with a dessert and jokingly said to the little girl, "Can I have your hair?" She went on to compliment her on it further.

The grandpa leaned forward across the table and said, "What do you say, Maya?"

The little girl responded: "No."

Thank You: Two Forms

Sitting in a restaurant, I overheard one diner asking another:

"Are you a 'thank you very much' person or a 'thank you so much' person?"

I Guess Trees Make the Difference

I've left Minnesota for the next few weeks, and as I took off on a Delta (formerly Northwest) jet this morning, we had a beautiful view of downtown Minneapolis.

Its gleaming, 50-story skyscrapers jumped up out of the flat prairie, contrasting with the one- and two-story houses of south Minneapolis, arrayed before us along the evenly spaced streets, interspersed with green treetops and blue lakes reflecting the sky.

I thought it looked pretty good.

Behind me, I heard one man say to another, "Look at that. It looks just like Las Vegas, only with trees."

Overheard: Edina, Minnesota

A friend of mine was at the Landmark Cinema in Edina, which is showing Slumdog Millionaire, and overheard someone commenting on the film:

"I thought it was cute in a third-world way."

If you've overheard any outrageous, absurdist or intriguing statements lately -- from the random to the ridiculous -- send them my way (daughternumberthree@gmail.com). I'll be keeping my ears open, too.