Young and black in America

[Typical NYC Lib]

Now, let me tell you about being Young and White in America: In 1989, I was in a bodega up in Stamford. It was about 1 AM on a Saturday and I'd been sent to get more Twinkies and chips for the party. I was dressed in big, baggy pants with big, baggy pockets. My dirty sweatshirt also had pockets, though not as big. At the same time, there was a clean-shaven black man in the store. (I had stubble all over my chin and generally looked like a derelict.) The African-American looked to be well into his thirties and was dressed very neatly in clothes that I definitely couldn't afford.

But the white clerk---you guessed it!---focuses on the respectable-looking black guy, following him around the store, while in the meantime my shaggy white ass could have been cleaning the place out. (This was before the stardardization of wickets at the doors.)

Things have changed a little since then, but not much.

[HopeHoops]

1. Agreed. Not much has really changed. I look like Tommy Chong and I still get the hairy eyeball.