Ladies and gentlemen, I come before you shocked, outraged, and mortified after having learned a terrible lesson, one I have learned firsthand. Racism’s ugly (splotchy, acne laden, and prematurely gray) head has reared itself once more in this supposedly forward thinking country, and I have experienced this firsthand. Yes, I have felt the venomous sting of racism. Firsthand! The situation has become so traumatizing that the details of the… incident have grown fuzzy. I will try to relate it as best as I can recall. I was sitting at my desk, taking these accursed customer service calls. As per usual, I got one. It didn’t take long for the conversation to become heated (as customer service calls are wont to do). As the customer kept asking me to do more and more for him, and I kept insisting that (as a worthless peon) I literally could not do any of the things he was asking for, he finally snapped, “you {expletive} wetback; go back to your own country!” Then the line clicked off.
I sat there stunned. After hearing what I had, various emotions stirred within my heart. First and foremost, confusion. In case you hadn’t noticed, I am white. Really, just about as white as can be. I come from along line of Danish and Irish folks. I get sunburn from nightlights. I listen to Arcade Fire. I write a blog. On a scale of 1 to 10, 1 being Buddy Holly and 10 being Danny Trejo, I rank about a 2.5.
Although I'm pretty certain I'm more genuinely Mexican than Carlos Mencia.
And I was talking in my normal voice, which includes a verbosity unmistakable for the grammatically obsessed, language arts teacher’s pet I am. I don’t sound the vaguest bit foreign, and if I tried to do a Mexican accent, it would come off as authentic as the Frito Bandito. For me to wonder how on earth this narrow minded fellow confused my voice with that of a migrant worker is only reasonable.
On a related note, I know who I'm going as at my next costume party.
Secondly, I felt confused again. Going strictly by racial stereotypes, aren’t call center employees supposed to be Indian? If I put too many jalapeños in his pico de gallo while working the dinner rush at El Fenix, I could understand getting told to get back to my own country. If I’m calling him over the cable bill and I sound like I might not be from around here, I expect to get a complaint about outsourcing
Finally, I became righteously indignant. How dare he judge me. I braved drowning and dehydration in my quest to get here. I have taken the lowliest job on this totem pole to scrimp and save and earn a living for my impoverished family, while he sits on his butt and watches Jersey Shore until the company disconnects him for non pay. And when that happens, I’m the one who gets to take his anger, I’m his verbal punching bag, and all in the name of braving hardships and breaking my back for a better life for my family. What could be more American than that? You say to get to my own country, well I from what I see, I may not be a legal citizen but this is my country! Also, I am a legal citizen, and this is literally my country.
Although, when you look closer at all the things I think are cool…
Okay, from now on guys, I am Mexican.
