The Thin Ice Post
"My boys are scared of the UPS man," I announced one day at lunch.
"Is he black?" asked my black friend.*
"As a matter of fact, he is, but that's not why they're scared of him," I replied.
"Are you sure?"
"Well, they see black people every day in our rather integrated neighborhood. They love the FreshDirect guys, one of whom is black. Oh, and there was the black cop the other day parked on the corner--they were in awe of him and his cop car."
"Plus, don't they have a crush on Sally?" asked my white friend.
"Yeah, they love Sally. They tell me she's a lady with a 'gina."
Sally nodded.
The mystery continued until I got home. Then, the case began to crack when Sage greeted me at the door.
"The P-yous-S man, little bit scary," he told me in earnest. "I don't like his hat."
"He was wearing a big rain hat," the babysitter told me.
The hat! The HAT! Of course.
The next day, we passed some kind of behatted male guard. Who was white.
"Aaaaah! Aaaah! P-yous-S man!" Thyme screamed.
Shortly thereafter, we passed a hat-free black man.
"Is that a UPS man?" I asked them.
"That's not a P-yous-S man. That's a regular man," Sage pointed.
I paused for a moment to breathe the deepest sigh of relief I've breathed since my C-section concluded, and then we were on our way.
*Yes, I'm aware of the inherent irony in writing a racial-awareness post and referring to her as "my black friend," but she's into irony and refers to herself that way.
"Is he black?" asked my black friend.*
"As a matter of fact, he is, but that's not why they're scared of him," I replied.
"Are you sure?"
"Well, they see black people every day in our rather integrated neighborhood. They love the FreshDirect guys, one of whom is black. Oh, and there was the black cop the other day parked on the corner--they were in awe of him and his cop car."
"Plus, don't they have a crush on Sally?" asked my white friend.
"Yeah, they love Sally. They tell me she's a lady with a 'gina."
Sally nodded.
The mystery continued until I got home. Then, the case began to crack when Sage greeted me at the door.
"The P-yous-S man, little bit scary," he told me in earnest. "I don't like his hat."
"He was wearing a big rain hat," the babysitter told me.
The hat! The HAT! Of course.
The next day, we passed some kind of behatted male guard. Who was white.
"Aaaaah! Aaaah! P-yous-S man!" Thyme screamed.
Shortly thereafter, we passed a hat-free black man.
"Is that a UPS man?" I asked them.
"That's not a P-yous-S man. That's a regular man," Sage pointed.
I paused for a moment to breathe the deepest sigh of relief I've breathed since my C-section concluded, and then we were on our way.
*Yes, I'm aware of the inherent irony in writing a racial-awareness post and referring to her as "my black friend," but she's into irony and refers to herself that way.
Copyright 2005-2010 by Arabella and Trattoria Breve. All rights reserved. 10:27 AM
1 Comments:
This must be the age of sudden, intractable fear. G is afraid of Gordon on Thomas the Tank Engine, along with most people on Sesame Street, and several of Chris's coworkers.
I'm glad you've trailed it to the hat. I haven't been able to get to the bottom of any of G's major fears, and it makes me feel powerless.
I love that they call him the P-yous-S" man. Hah!
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