In high school I got called racist. It can feel horrible!
My dad had given me a used Pontiac Sunbird that summer. We bondo’d, sanded, painted, sanded, painted, sanded, painted and clear coated it Corvette White. I felt like a rock star driving it to school. A kid down the street asked if he could carpool with me so he didn't have to take the bus. My dad wasn't happy, but I figured it would be no big deal.
I was wrong. The kid was always running late. He left trash in my car. He took the ashtray out and lost it. He wanted to do endless after school errands or pick up people I didn't know... “just one street over! Why are you being such a baby?!”.
After 3 weeks I told him it was time to catch the bus. He told everyone for days that I hated black people, and thought I was too good to have black people in my car. He told kids I said blacks belonged on the bus.
In the lunch room he had a little group around him and he was really getting fired up telling the story for the 100th time. But when he yelled racist to my face, I screamed back at him, “Shut your lying mouth! I don't hate black people. I just hate YOU!”
They called my parents and talked about how they were "very concerned" about me. But my parents were awesome and the students took my side. It was totally worth the disciplinary action. Plus, my reputation grew from being a geeky school newspaper/yearbook girl to a unpredicatable trouble maker overnight!
I might just attack you with my pica ruler. You just can't be sure. I'm crazy like that.