These People Are So White They're Transparent
Now I spent eleven years living in Delaware and let me say that there was always an uneasy feeling in my stomach when I would go anywhere. Not that I was a boa wearing gay but these small town thinking people who spend their life trying to keep up with the Jones by having the latest Coach bag, the newest Mercedes SUV and their kids in the "proper school" was just something I had never experienced growing up on the west coast. I'm sure it existed somewhere there but I just never saw it out in the public so prominently as when I lived in Delaware. God love them, you know the type of women I'm talking about, the ones that think a red scarf from Talbot's is almost too daring to don, even at the holiday party. They spend most of their time looking down their nose at everyone and when they aren't doing that, they feel sorry for anyone who doesn't have the same life as them or believe exactly what they believe. What a very small existence but there you have it. So when a dear friend of mine was to go to the Greenville area to pick up her holiday fixings at an exclusive grocery store I had never been to, I jumped at the chance to see how the other half lived. The store has been owned by a family for a thousand years and in fact the matriarch can still be found behind the cheese counter picking out the perfect cheese ball for your holiday party. But I'll get to that later. What struck me from the moment that I walked into this place was that these people are so white they're transparent! - Don't Get Me Started!
That phrase about these people being transparent just came into my head (like everything else I write - scary, right?) but the more I thought about it, the more perfect is became in my head as these people were not only so white in color that they were transparent but their motives are just as transparent. I could see right through them in their exclusive environment where anyone of color was either stocking the shelves or carrying groceries out to the cars of the elite. None of the people of color were actually waiting on the customers, where the elite meet. No, they were doing jobs I suppose the whiteys thought they were "suited for" or were for someone of their "station" or something. I was disgusted, to say the least.
You see, I had a next door neighbor who my brother and I played with every day when we were kids come up to us and tell us he couldn't play with us anymore because we were "dirty Jews" according to his father and I've been with a black man for over nineteen years so I mean, you do the math. Yes, I'm sensitive to these types of elitists and they make me sick.
You just had to see all these white people in this tiny grocery store paying way too much for their franks and beans. And because it was around the holidays, I think that they were even more "done up" - there was the woman who was in her seventies who was wearing a pink leather blazer with her Gloria Vanderbilt jeans, having just come from the salon where Rodolfo had no doubt just done her hair. She had given him an extra ten dollars as a tip for the holidays and went on and on about his ability to do her hair just the way she liked it. (Which resembled something similar to cotton candy at a fair) Then there were all the younger wives in their workout gear having just come from Patty's Pilates studio down the road who would kiss the air by the cheek of their friends as they met in the aisles. In their forest green fleece vests, they would ask one another, "Land's End or J. Crew? Well, whatever it is, it's fabulous and I must get one."
When we finally got to the counter to pick up my pal's caviar (a tradition for her and her husband every Christmas Eve) it was the matriarch of the family that took care of us. She couldn't have been more gracious. You almost felt as though you were at her personal holiday party as a guest and that soon the punch bowl would come out. On and on she went about having to keep the caviar at the appropriate temperature, even going back to the freezer to get her ice packs so that the caviar would stay at the proper temperature even on the ride home. Now let me say that my friend's grocery order was certainly over $500 and other than the caviar and a few prime rib chops, I have no idea what was in that basket that would bring the total up to that amount but believe me when I say that it most certainly did just that and as the Hispanic person bagged our groceries and we went to the parking lot, I thought to myself, "Well, the class system in America is in tact."
This undoubtedly is not the only town or place like this in our country, I'm sure. I guess I just thought that the divide was getting smaller instead of so much wider. It's not. And I've a feeling, even though it felt like finding people who were lost in another time (pre 1960's) it was once again me who was really out of place. And again the soundtrack of a musical ran through my mind. The Evita soundtrack when she gets snubbed by the Aristocracy and sings, "The actress hasn't learned the lines you'd like to hear. She won't join your clubs. She won't dance in your halls. She won't help the hungry once a month at your tombolas. She'll simply take control as you disappear." I don't think it's a radical notion to want to see less struggling between the classes but then again, I suppose if you don't go into their neighborhoods you don't have to see it. Only problem there is that they're also the ones buying the laws in this country and us gays, even with all our supposed disposable income have yet to buy our way up enough to buy ourselves equality...yet. These people are so white they're transparent! - Don't Get Me Started!
Read More Scott @ www.somelikeitscott.com
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