We had just seen all of Bangkok together at a fancy rooftop bar in a hotel downtown. Some of us got drinks, but I didn’t as I mostly just wanted the view and didn’t feel like overpaying for crappy imported beer or a fancy cocktail. Now we were in Bangkok’s Chinatown, seeking some street eats for the evening. The tables were in rows all the way down the street.
He came up to me and thanked me so graciously that I was taken aback. This has never happened before. Continue Reading
Everyone’s a little bit racist, it’s just the way things happen to turn out in this world. But how little is that bit of me that is racist? Is it bigger than I like to think it is? Am I kidding myself that it is as small as I want others to think it is?
This came up when a few weeks ago I saw a childhood friend in New York City post something about her boyfriend who had passed away a year ago. My first thought was maybe he was shot.
Nope. It was cancer and an infection.
This thought came up so quickly and naturally, that it caught me by surprise. I felt ashamed that my immediate and uncensored thought was that he was involved with gangs or crime somehow and was shot. Am I really that racist? It’s a weird and scary realization to come to. What if I’m not as open minded as I think I am? What if I’m really not as good a person as I want to be?