I bought a hat about two weeks ago. A black cotton-poly blend winter-type hat. It was $4.00, which was a great deal, especially since I had just lost my other hat a few nights earlier and my ears were freezing. Now they wouldn’t be. But beyond that, I left the winter wear kiosk with more. As the vendor handed me my change, he said, “Thanks, brother. Have a nice day.”
Nothin’ says lovin’ like being called “brother”. Particularly if you’re a white guy. And even more particularly if you’re a white guy who believes that non-white guys are super conscious of how white and potentially oppressive you are. Did I mention I’m a white guy who believes that non-white guys are super conscious of how white and potentially oppressive I am? And I guess that’s pretty unfounded. Yet, I was on the subway a few days ago, the only Caucazoid in the car, and a guy came through selling what looked like homemade CDs. As he walked across the car, he pitched his wares to every passenger except me. “Well, that guy just lost a sale,” I tried to shrug it off. But I won’t deny that I felt pretty left out.
But then that winter-wear vendor brought me back. Or made me think he had brought me back. Whatever it was, I liked it.