I think this story works best if you can see me and Eden enter the store first. I was wearing outfit number 2 which now has over 44,000 miles on it. My hair was in a ponytail and I hadn't bothered with make up. Eden was recently back from a friend's house and had chocolate on her shirt and her curly hair was tied in two pony tails with a spray of curls surrounding her face. We had stopped at the Camping World to look at trailers. I knew I had a long road trip a head and I liked the idea of buying a trailer in Florida to use as housing as we went across country. We saw a tiny little trailer in the front lot and were hopeful that our little SUV could pull the thing.
The salesman was dressed in khaki pants with a white polo shirt. He was leaning over the desk talking to a petite teenager who was giggling and beaming up at him.
"Excuse me, I'd like to look inside the trailer out front"
Salesman looked me up and down and pushed himself away from the counter with his hip.
"But can you buy a trailer?" He said clearly already on a witty streak he thought he would keep going
I was confused "Well yes...I mean I don't know if I'll buy one now or...."
"What I mean," he looked over at the desk girl "is do you even own a car?"
Desk girl thought this was pretty funny. I did not. I am one of five kids. I don't take smack. So I got (as my brothers call it) Hand-On-Hips Emily. The Hands-On-Hips version of me is not exactly someone I'm proud of. She is self righteous and prone to giving dress downs. So I did. He apologized and offered to get me a different salesman and really tried to be helpful. And I left.
But I've been thinking about it. I'm kind of privileged. I got the genetic soup that makes me blonde and blue eyed and white skinned. And I go through live being able to dress causally (okay sloppy) and people don't really challenge the situation. My privilege covers it up. When I wear yoga pants and grubby t-shirts people see me and think "maybe she just got back from yoga" not "homeless". Or at least they don't usually. Not everyone has that.
Right after Jared died I went through a phase of dressing up all day every day. It wasn't like me. But, even if I was just going to be around the house I had to have the full outfit, hair, and make up. I just couldn't be *that* single mom.
You see, for the first time in my life I was a member of the looked down on, the pitied and the "other". I didn't want people to see me as pathetic. I didn't want people to see me as that salesman saw me. Some destitute single mom who was trying to show her kid the inside of a trailer they could never afford.
For a while it really bugged me. What if all of the kindness I run into as a stranger is because of the privilege that cloaks me. Would people be as kind if I weren't white? What if, all around me people are being hurtful and mean and I just didn't see it.
I was thinking about this when we pulled into our next resort. It was dark and the streets of our complex aren't lit. I was driving slowly and peering out trying to find our "Bay Side Court" when a motor cycle that had been tailing us flashed its lights. It was pouring rain but he hopped off his bike and motioned for me to roll down my window. I did (just a crack).
"You're going the wrong way for Bay Side Court" Rain dripped off his nose while he talked "You need to take the next left and then left again"
I recognized him as the man at the gate. He had checked us in, noticed we were going the wrong way and followed us. He didn't have to do that. But he did.
I rolled up the window and realized that I can't judge why people are kind any more than I can judge why people are unkind. It isn't really about them anyway. It is about me. I don't need to know if and why they are kind. I just need to know if and why I am. It was liberating to realize that. Judging others motives isn't something I'm equipped to do.
I don't know why the salesman was snotty. I don't know why the gate keeper was kind. But I choose to believe the salesman was just having a bad day and I choose to believe that the gate keeper was just a kind person. I'm not making these choices out of a Polyanna blinders.
I make this choice because I've said stupid things before and I'm sure I've been as offensive as the salesman was. If I forgive others, then I forgive myself more readily. I make this choice because actions that are kind make us all more human.
The salesman was dressed in khaki pants with a white polo shirt. He was leaning over the desk talking to a petite teenager who was giggling and beaming up at him.
"Excuse me, I'd like to look inside the trailer out front"
Salesman looked me up and down and pushed himself away from the counter with his hip.
"But can you buy a trailer?" He said clearly already on a witty streak he thought he would keep going
I was confused "Well yes...I mean I don't know if I'll buy one now or...."
"What I mean," he looked over at the desk girl "is do you even own a car?"
Desk girl thought this was pretty funny. I did not. I am one of five kids. I don't take smack. So I got (as my brothers call it) Hand-On-Hips Emily. The Hands-On-Hips version of me is not exactly someone I'm proud of. She is self righteous and prone to giving dress downs. So I did. He apologized and offered to get me a different salesman and really tried to be helpful. And I left.
But I've been thinking about it. I'm kind of privileged. I got the genetic soup that makes me blonde and blue eyed and white skinned. And I go through live being able to dress causally (okay sloppy) and people don't really challenge the situation. My privilege covers it up. When I wear yoga pants and grubby t-shirts people see me and think "maybe she just got back from yoga" not "homeless". Or at least they don't usually. Not everyone has that.
Right after Jared died I went through a phase of dressing up all day every day. It wasn't like me. But, even if I was just going to be around the house I had to have the full outfit, hair, and make up. I just couldn't be *that* single mom.
You see, for the first time in my life I was a member of the looked down on, the pitied and the "other". I didn't want people to see me as pathetic. I didn't want people to see me as that salesman saw me. Some destitute single mom who was trying to show her kid the inside of a trailer they could never afford.
For a while it really bugged me. What if all of the kindness I run into as a stranger is because of the privilege that cloaks me. Would people be as kind if I weren't white? What if, all around me people are being hurtful and mean and I just didn't see it.
I was thinking about this when we pulled into our next resort. It was dark and the streets of our complex aren't lit. I was driving slowly and peering out trying to find our "Bay Side Court" when a motor cycle that had been tailing us flashed its lights. It was pouring rain but he hopped off his bike and motioned for me to roll down my window. I did (just a crack).
"You're going the wrong way for Bay Side Court" Rain dripped off his nose while he talked "You need to take the next left and then left again"
I recognized him as the man at the gate. He had checked us in, noticed we were going the wrong way and followed us. He didn't have to do that. But he did.
I rolled up the window and realized that I can't judge why people are kind any more than I can judge why people are unkind. It isn't really about them anyway. It is about me. I don't need to know if and why they are kind. I just need to know if and why I am. It was liberating to realize that. Judging others motives isn't something I'm equipped to do.
I don't know why the salesman was snotty. I don't know why the gate keeper was kind. But I choose to believe the salesman was just having a bad day and I choose to believe that the gate keeper was just a kind person. I'm not making these choices out of a Polyanna blinders.
I make this choice because I've said stupid things before and I'm sure I've been as offensive as the salesman was. If I forgive others, then I forgive myself more readily. I make this choice because actions that are kind make us all more human.
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