I know it is not supposed to hurt when people I thought were my friends call me, cracker, gringo or any of the myriad of other nasty sounding names that usually precede giving me responsibility for things over which I have no control. I am sorry, but it does. It hurts allot. It makes me feel alienated and hopeless.
To amplify the problem, I am fluent in Spanish. Daily I run into Spanish conversations that the speakers assume I cannot understand because I am the "wrong" color to know Spanish. I am often forced to listen to other race hating dialogs than are not considered racism because the participants are not white. A time or three I have made the mistake of letting the folks know I understand them just fine. The verbal assaults for the crime of understanding were... scarring.
I have said little about any of this for decades. Typically, I just go home and cry privately. These days my tears are so constant that I seldom go out in public. The isolation is downright unhealthy and I want to heal.
No comments:
Post a Comment