Growing up in a multicultural society such as that in Etobicoke-Lakeshore, and then going to the University to study Math, I was never really made to feel like a minority. It wasn’t until I started working full-time in an office that I did. I still remember the event that did it. It was a birthday party – one of my associates had invited me to a birthday party. The party was to begin at a bar where the attendees were to get wasted before going to a club later on in the evening. I showed up alone. I didn’t know anyone besides the co-worker that invited me. I began to introduce myself to the other guests. At that point in time, I hadn’t yet quite put my finger on what about each person it exactly was that I disliked, but I was certain that I wasn’t enjoying anyone’s company. It wasn’t until the following exchange that I figured it out:
Guest: “Does it feel strange being the only guest who isn’t white?”
I looked at the group and I realized that I was the only person who wasn’t white. I not only failed to notice, but failed to be bothered … up until that point.
Guest: “You know, I have a cousin who lives in a small town near England who has never seen a black person in real life before. Can you imagine?”
Me: “You know, I have a cousin in the Philippines who lives in a small town far from the main cities who has never seen anyone besides Filipinos. ”
She looked at me and smiled pleasantly, so as to agree that our cousins truly were unfortunate. It saddened me to see that the message I was trying to send had just gone over her head. At the time, I was disappointed, but whenever I retell this story, I laugh. I laugh so hard … until I cry.
