Wow! That was a 1,825-word exercise in self-indulgence that loudly begs the question, “WTF were you shooting for, a shoulder to cry on?” I, for one, am having a very hard time feeling your privileged righteously indignant pain. While I concede the fact that those of us who shop while Black can, at times, be subjected to certain slights and ignorant assumptions, but I am most impressed by your absolute inability to appreciate the fact that you have enough financial resources to visit high-end clothing stores on a regular basis. Further, I am impressed by your ignorance of your own penchant for making uninformed assumptions about people you’ve never met.
. . . make me a female dandy.
I would never begrudge you your sartorial prowess or your desire to brag about being unduly devoted to style, neatness, and fashion, but I can’t ignore how adroitly you set yourself up as one who is most undeserving of pity from the very outset.
Some of my Black friends say my style is “boo-zhee.”
You were probably too busy doing a lap at one of your high-end haunts to bother looking the term up, but it is spelled bougie, which is a truncated form of the French word bourgeoisie, or did you miss that unit back in preppy school?
I can’t help it: If I’m wearing an outfit that makes me feel comfortable and look good then I feel like I can do anything.
Really? I’m sorry to hear that you can’t help buying way-too-expensive clothing to feel good, but I should think that such a hear-me-roar attitude would come from a clear sense of self-esteem, not some OCD-like sense of style. Am I to assume that your ability to do anything is inextricably linked to what you have on your back rather than what you have in your brain?
But shopping at high-end stores while Black, especially young and female, too often feels like navigating a minefield of assumptions, microaggressions, and thinly veiled hostility.
I don’t mean to spit hairs, but, then again, you’re splitting heads over balls of cotton so, here goes. For the sake of parallelism, you should pluralize your last noun – hostilities, especially since you have already suffered people's assumptions and microagressions (whatever they are).
When that happens I usually give the sales rep my dead-fish-eye look that says . . .
If you really want to imbue such situations with a modicum of the didactic, it would be better to avail yourself of these many, many teachable moments by opening your mouth and schooling those errant sales associates. But, I’ve heard that, rather than saying what is on your mind, nothing sends a message more emphatically than looking at someone like a dead fish.
Mind you, I’ve never worked a retail or service-sector job a day of my life.
Why make this such a point of salience? Could it be that you feel that you are too good to work in the service sector?
Non-Black people might look at the fluffy bolls and see something soft and pleasant. But we see endless fields of torture and misery. We are reminded of . . . blah, blah, blah, yadda, yadda, yadda.
This all-inclusive we of whom you speak would be . . .? My mother used to regale me with countless stories of her days picking cotton in rural Georgia (she was born in the early 20s), but I never saw her break out in a cold sweat or slip into a hydrophobic rage at the mere sight of raw cotton. Instead, she graduated from college with a BA and an MA so she would NOT have to ever pick cotton again. By your own submission, your readers know that you are young and black. So, whence the vivid memories of being raped, beaten, and having your flesh torn by chains? Could you be suffering from P-T-S-D or Post Traumatic Slavery Disorder? If so, I recommend that you seek out a good therapist post haste!
“My ancestors in Virginia had to pick that,” I said wearily.
So, was it also in Helen’s job description to telepathically familiarize herself with your family history upon your unanticipated arrival? Would it have been better for her to assume that all black Americans go Adrian-Monk crazy whenever they see fluffy balls of cotton? Or, are you simply taking umbrage at a perceived affront that is bursting at the seams with misguided assumptions about poor Helen’s role in some racial conspiracy? What was it about her demeanor or appearance that let you know that she was an inveterate racist, hell-bent on exploiting YOUR irrational aversion to raw cotton? You need to stop wallowing in your role as victim and start being the victor that you are. Some of us shop at lower-end stores out of frugality, and others shop "down" out of necessity. You, on the other hand, have the means to be a dandy denizen of the realm of all that is preppy who buys overpriced clothes to ease her pain. Others of your fellow world citizens can only afford to soothe their angst with a bar of chocolate or a bowl of mac & cheese. Still others have to get by on less than a dollar a day. So, stop with the fish eyes and use your expensive and presumably expansive academic past to teach those who would be educated and ignore those who do not warrant angry retorts. In other words, learn to pick your battles lest you lose the war, and stop telling yourself that we black Americans are joined at the hip by dint of a similar hue.
Tribulation is going to be a major wakeup call to her kind.
So....okay, we been punked! Okay, okay....so what is this? An advertisement for that new show that’s a black ripoff of “Modern Family” or something?... BAPS or something? We wants to know......
Presuming that she has a job is so demeaning.
“I thought that shopping at Brooks Brothers would help soothe my pain”
OFFS......
Simple ignorance is NOT the same thing as "thinly veiled hostility".
Oh, and by the way, I purposely ignored your use of the term "microaggression" because it is a bullsh1t term invented by racist progressives to try to make us feel guilty for things we have not done.
People who shop in stores where questions like that come up deserve whatever happens to them.
““My ancestors in Virginia had to pick that,” I said wearily. “
A neat trick since tobacco was the cash crop. Virginia isn’t part of the cotton belt.
Yikes. That will leave a mark.
. . .and my ancestors died to free YOUR ancestors. Check, and mate. . . .
How typical is this young woman of Black America?
My guess is not very much - I mean she clearly has the disposable income and can enjoy the life that comes with it.
What I find off putting is her lack of gratitude and whining about all the imaginary insults and slights she has to endure throughout the day.
Many people in this country black and white, would be grateful to be in her shoes. And her paranoia about raw cotton is simply over the top.
This young woman needs help. I’ve never seen a less classy or more self-conceited person in my entire life. Here as always, its not about race, or even wealth.
Its the values, stupid. As well as character - the kinds of things no amount of money can buy.
Oh, barf. This snob hasn't thought about anyone but herself from day one, but still manages to play the I'm-a-victim card.
My WHITE wife’s WHITE grandfather picked cotton...picking cotton wasn’t just a black’s endeavor or burden.
GTH you racist witch.
I suppose I am a ‘victim’ of microagression, as well, you see, once, when I wore a red shirt while shopping at Target . . .
I have a polo shirt like that. If I’m wearing it inside a store I likely will be asked if I “work here”; it’s happened on multiple occasions.
Do I shudder when I see cotton? Nope.
Do I yell at store clerks because they use it in a display? Nope.
Guess what? Life is NOT all about ME and it is NOT all about YOU.
Now, go buy a new blazer to make yourself feel all better.
As if this kind of thing doesn’t happen to everyone. Grace Hopper got taken for a flight attendant wearing her admirals uniform on a plane once.