Of Pastrami & Prejudice

In my classes, we learn a lot about the injustices of the world, about confronting prejudice head-on in the classroom, about the racism that still surrounds us. I've spent most of my life in the suburbs, and although my high school was smack dab in the middle of a county that is not majority white, I never felt like a minority. Sure, a gifted, Irish, Jewish young woman - I was a minority in my own right. And in my classes I always draw on those experiences, on the women issue, on the religion issue. I always skirt the topic of racism because I've never really experienced it and, to be honest, I probably never will. But every once in a while, something happens that reminds me that just because I don't see it doesn't mean it doesn't exist.

Today on the way back from the allergist, I was getting ready to camp out in Whole Foods with some coffee and my laptop to work on my psychology reading for this week. As I was crossing the street, a woman walked up to me, looking lost & confused. I assumed she needed help finding something or someone, based on her expression. I took my headphones out and the woman informed me that she is homeless; she didn't want my money, but only a bottle of water or some tea. This woman can't afford a $2 drink when it's 94 degrees outside, and she's surely not welcome to hang out in an air conditioned, uptight cafe. I have $2 to spare. I can buy her a drink.

I walked back across the street with the woman, headed towards the little bodega I believed she was pointing to. Then I realized she was walking towards a Subway. I asked her to remind me what exactly I was buying for her, and she told me she just wanted a drink and a snack. Okay, now it's a snack. Fine. Whatever. I have $5 to spare. I can buy her a snack.

As we walk into Subway, she informs me that she's going to get a sandwich and a soda. She tells me she is going to get a footlong and asks me if that's okay. What could I say?  I was already in the restaurant with her. I had clearly agreed to buy her some form of food. If this woman is so desperate that she feels she needs to trick 22-year-old girls into buying her food, I could spare $10 to buy her a damn sandwich. But I wouldn't be happy about it.

The last time I helped a random person on the street, I gave $5 to a woman, only to immediately find a $5 MetroCard, which was lucky, since mine was empty and I was running late for work. A few weeks ago, I found a woman's cell phone in a cab. I returned it to her, and she gave me $20. She told me that in this city, all good deeds go rewarded, somehow. She had found a phone in a cab months earlier, only to have me return the favor. She told me that I had good karma (and, now, lunch money), and I would do well in this city.

While standing in line watching a stranger order whatever her heart desired at a crappy sandwich joint that I'm too snobby to eat, I felt myself wondering how this was going to come back to me, karma-wise. How horrible is that? Can't I just do a good deed for the sake of doing a good deed? It's 90 degrees outside, this woman is homeless, I'm about to get a refund check from the government in the mail, and all I can think about is how it's going to come back to me. She seemed nice enough. She seemed sane enough. Why couldn't I just feed her for the sake of feeding her? What's $10 to me?

The homeless woman ordered a pastrami footlong. The woman working the line asked her if she was aware that pastrami is full price, as opposed to the Five Dollar Footlong special. I didn't think anything of it, but my newfound friend accused her of asking about the price only because she was black. Alright, crazy lady, I thought to myself. But then I realized - she hadn't asked the white man in front of us, and she only asked the white man behind us so that she wouldn't look racist. Did the Subway worker even consider what she had said? Does she always say it and just forgot? Could I even just tell myself she had asked because the woman was missing a few teeth and wasn't carrying a purse, not solely because of the color of her skin? It was a racial microaggression - a seemingly harmless sentence that people don't realize carries prejudicial weight.

I continued to contemplate modern racism as I walked down the line. I got to the register and realized I had forgotten my wallet. Now, this NEVER happens to me. I didn't even check before I left the house because I assumed it was in my laptop bag. I realized I never switched it over from my purse from last night. I panicked. Here I was, trying to do a good deed, feeling guilty about buying her a sandwich that I got conned into buying, and she was going to have to give it back. I was the worst good-deed-doer in the world. I looked anxiously into the cashier's eyes and decided to tell him the truth. "I just ordered this woman a sandwich, and I don't have my wallet. I am so sorry. I don't know what to do."

I'd like to think my near hyperventilation and the honesty in my voice was what got the cashier to give the sandwich to me (and therefore to the homeless woman) for free. Maybe it was because he knew I was buying it for someone else who was clearly a stranger. But I can't avoid the thought that I got that sandwich for free because I am a pretty little white girl. If that woman had walked in and pulled the same stunt, it never would have worked, even if she was being honest. Maybe because she's older, maybe because she accused the sandwich maker of being racist, maybe because she didn't have all her teeth, but most likely because all of those things plus her being black means that she's a homeless woman who has done something wrong in her life and therefore does not deserve a free sandwich. But why do I? Because I'm carrying a Lilly Pulitzer bag? Because I have an iPhone? Because my keys have an ID on them that says I go to an Ivy League school? Because I'm a pretty little white girl, and pretty little white girls don't lie about losing their wallets to steal sandwiches. For all he knows, I'm a great actress, and this woman and I are in cahoots together, collecting free sandwiches all across the city. He knows nothing about me. The only thing I have done to deserve a free sandwich was offer to buy a $10 sandwich for a woman who couldn't afford it. How's that for karma? Instant Free Sandwich. No cost to me.

As we were leaving, the woman looked shocked. She asked me if I knew the cashier. I honestly told her that I've never been to that Subway in my life. She stared at me. I could tell we were thinking the same thing. I told her that I was grateful that even though I messed up, I am happy the man at Subway let her eat, and I hope she enjoys her sandwich. The whole time we were waiting in line, she kept thanking me. Then, in that final moment, she didn't thank me. Why should she? I did nothing but stand behind her, but she got free food out of it - free food she would have never gotten if I hadn't come along. Because she's black, and homeless, and defensive. Because I'm white, and forgetful, and anxious.  I am the product of the world that let her fail.

Now I sit here in this Starbucks (because I still hauled my computer downtown and therefore need to study somewhere, and Starbucks is the only place that lets me pay with my phone) dwelling over the whole experience and wondering just what both of us did to deserve what just happened. She did, after all, con me into buying her a sandwich by asking for something simple (water) then immediately demanding something more substantial (a pastrami footlong). I did, after all, agree to do something nice for a total stranger, knowing that I really don't have $10 to be spending on total strangers. So am I the New York Robin Hood, robbing from the Subway owners and giving to the homeless? Or did I just totally use my race (and, to be honest, my sex) to get somebody something for free that neither of us really deserve?

I guess there isn't an answer. I guess I just needed to vent. But something so little has really made me realize just what exactly my professors mean when they say to confront this issues with my students before the outside world does. But who wants to listen to a white girl who "doesn't look Jewish", was raised in suburbia, and has never been discriminated against because of the color of her skin? What wisdom can I possibly impart upon a classroom about appreciation of diversity? I am reminded of my friend Meghann, a white girl from Kansas, who knows more about teaching prejudice and confronting racism than anyone else I know. I don't quite know why, but I know I trust her unquestioningly, and I'm sure her students do too. Now I don't know Meghann's entire upbringing, but I can tell you from first glance that she looks pretty much like me. But her students trust her. And if I walk the walk instead of just talking the talk, maybe my students will trust me too.

Has anything like this ever happened to you? Any words of wisdom? Any sage advice? I might still be freaking out a little over here.

Dressed Head To Toe In Love

When I first decided realized I was moving to New York, I asked all of my friends who were from, had lived in, or frequently visited the Tri-State Area for advice. Most people said simple things like "don't spend too much money" or "buy an air conditioner; the summers are brutal" (note to past self: they were right). But one guy gave me something a little deeper: "Just remember that real life isn't Sex and the City." Huh. That's actually not bad advice, I thought to myself. It combines the simple lines I had gotten from everyone else and added an element of "don't feel bad about yourself if you don't have time to enjoy it, because no one does." I've tried to keep this in mind whenever I feel like I'm living in the library or dressing like a slob or totally broke.

But lately, I can't help but wonder... why can't my life be Sex and the City?

(Source: NY Post)

At it's core, Sex and the City is really just a show about a group of young professional women living in New York City, looking for love and having fun along the way. What part of that doesn't sound like my life? Okay, the young professional part, I'll give you that. Grad school is definitely a different lifestyle... one that there aren't too many shows about because they would be really boring. But when I'm not in the library, I'm in the city. I'm single. I'm with my fabulous girlfriends. I'm writing a blog... which is like a column, only I don't get paid. I'm shopping. I'm schmoozing. I'm having a good time. Sure, the dresses I wear are cheaper and the bars I go to are a little less classy, but apart from that, there isn't a big fundamental difference.

So what part of this should I not be emulating? Maybe some better advice would have been, "Make your life as much like Sex and the City as you possibly can. Remember to look fabulous (when you have time) because you never know who is watching you walk by. Remember to have fun in this incredible city. Remember who is important above all the BS." Not a bad thing to keep in mind.