The Good Racist

Shereen nailed it…. again.

A Day in the Life of Shareen A.

I was raised in a community of positive racists.

A place where Asians are mathematical super geniuses and African men are well endowed.

I don’t believe all racism is derived from hate, I simply don’t.

I’m sorry, but I refuse to be called a bigot for believing Black men have huge penises.

So imagine my disappointment when hate racism reared its hideous head.

There were two separate accounts, in the city of Edmonton, when my intoxicated state begged for me to dial the reliable local taxi service.

Cab

The first night, I somehow found the back seat of my chariot and pasted plastered little me to the seat. The driver was on the phone speaking in Arabic, when – obnoxious me drawled, “You’re from the Arab?”

Mistake.

“Yes,” he answered cautiously, “I’m from Lebanon.”

He slowly hung up and eyed me from his rear-view mirror.

And later I found out why.

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