The Muffin Post

Govia

FOREST HILLS, New York. This morning I am reminded that people’s perception of their self worth is hinged on the color of their skin and not on what they contribute to the growth of humankind. So it is possible that when God comes to judge the earth I expect some people may proffer in their defense that the color of their skin was enough to excuse their bad manners, selfishness, and bigotry. It is possible that some may explain that they deserve to be in heaven because they are blue blooded. Others may argue that the person ahead of them should be relegated to the back of the line because she who was then ahead was born in a geographic region that is predisposed to skin with dark completion or people of a certain race. The naive person may argue that his genetic composition is six tenth Aryan, and not biracial, and that the statistics were flawed that designated him fifty-fifty. I do not know for sure if there is a God, but I pray to him sometimes, and I am sorry about the work he has in store for him on judgment day. Despite billions of dollars spent on prayers each year, he is going to have to overrule a whole lot of people who currently subscribe to the belief that you should love your neighbor based on the color the of their skin, or ethnic composition, and that is reason enough to overthrow the Supreme One, should he think otherwise.

America has come a long way since the days of slavery and racial segregation. Today we have what is conferred a bi-racial President, though yesterday he would have been simply a black President. Yet, it is this morning that I received my first overt experience with racism, and it occurred in the building where I live, not in south of the United States, but in the bastion of liberalism, in the Great City of New York. My experience occurred in Forest Hills, at five minutes before eight o’ clock on December 12, 2009. My intention at that point in time was normal enough; I was about to take the elevator from the 18th floor of the Coop to the lobby, and my goal eventually was to move my car from one side of the road to another to accommodate the city’s rules regarding street cleaning.

As I got on to the elevator, I met a rotund man of my complexion, about five feet two with a mustache, and after greeting him with the usual pleasantries of “Good Morning,” I remarked quite jovially. “We’re almost twins.” And seeing that Mr. Mustache was slightly taken aback, I continued, “I mean we are both wearing jeans, and boots, and winter jackets of the same pattern and color.” And seeing the action of his body further, “Well, the makers of our jackets are not the same,” I said.

“And neither is the color of our skin,” replied the man, sticking a hole into his cheek with his finger.

I told the man that it does not matter. Though I was shrewd enough to understand that he meant that he was white and I was of many racial compositions – black!

He must have noticed that I did not care for the way he was taking the conversation because he blurted out after a few seconds. “Today is one of those days when I have to get the car inspected. They are going to find a reason to say something is wrong, and charge me more money.”

Thankfully, the elevator arrived on the lobby and I got off, flinging behind me, “Have a good day with the car.”

A few weeks have passed since Neshaa told me about her own experience with bigotry in the coop. It occurred when she was doing laundry. A woman had approached her and lectured her about which washers she should use, and how they must be used. Neshaa had calmly told the woman to mind her own business. The white woman was so incensed by Neshaa’s reply that she called the superintendent of the building to put her in her place, and the man, knowing better, had smiled and listened carefully to the woman, and then walked away.

It seems the woman had mistaken Neshaa for one of the hired help. Neshaa is Indian, and the color of her skin is similar (to less perceptive eyes) to the Hispanic ladies that work as nurse aides to elderly Jewish residents of the building. Ironically, it was one of the nurse aides that rushed to Neshaa’s defense when the other woman accosted her. The woman continued to give Neshaa bad looks until I came downstairs to help with folding the laundry, and then it occurred to her that we live in the coop, and possibly are shareholders.

I read recently in the papers that businesses are still making their hiring decision based on race. Read it here. It seems people deny themselves the use of the best talent available to them because of a weakness that is hewn to their decision making process. I have seen pictures of what man conceive God to be. In a majority of these pictures God is white. In other pictures I have seen, God is black. On judgment day, it is possible that God may be a Korowai, and that would make billions of people get bent out of shape. It is said that the Korowai are cannibals, and justice would be served if bigots got first dibs at heaven.