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by deviousdiva
Originally posted at This is not my country
Some things are really hard to explain to someone who has not experienced them. Take racism. How do you really explain what racism FEELS like as opposed to what it is ? Yesterday, I went with the love of my life to look at a potential new house for us. We had been to a housing agency to see what was on offer and to register with them so they could do the looking for us. The only suitable house they had on their books was one where the owners had said that they didn't want foreigners. My heart thumped. A loud single violent thump.
I didn't mention it for a while afterwards because I didn't want to sound like I was being paranoid. We talked about it briefly later. "No. It won't be a problem. People like us. We are good people. We are not the type of foreigners that people don't like". I felt bad even to be saying these things.
A few days went by but it was on my mind. An annoying worry that I kept pushing down. I kept saying to myself "Don't worry, things have changed here. Not everyone is racist. We've managed to get along with people. We have had mostly good experiences here" So yesterday, love of my life called and said there was a house for us to look at in the evening. "Shall we go ? Yes, great, that was quick, sounds ideal". So we pop over to the office to get details and head on up to see the place. Just as we reached the door my heart thumped again. The door opened and the landlady hesitated. Just for a second. As we were making our introductions, her eyes kept flitting over to me. I knew what she was thinking in those first few moments. She showed us into the hall and the little looks continued. She didn't stare. She didn't look disgusted or frightened. Just hesitant. As if, perhaps, her mind was thinking through other thoughts apart from showing us the house ? We looked at the two bedrooms and moved into the kitchen. I was trying to concentrate on looking around but it was as though I was holding my breath the whole time. Waiting. After probably less than the two minutes that she and the love of my life had been making small talk, there was a tiny pause. My heart thumped. And then she said it. "I was expecting you to be Greek". She didn't say "I don't want to rent to foreigners" or anything like that. After all she could have said that at the door and not shown us in if that was how she felt. No. She had been surprised that we were foreign but she was showing us her house anyway. It was a relief. The air was clear to continue. I stopped holding my breath. Now, I am NOT saying that she was racist. What I am trying to explain is what racism FEELS like. It's that awareness of hesitations when people meet you for the first time. It is that fleeting look. It is that waiting until the fact of your differentness is mentioned. It is that hoping that you are "the right kind of foreign". It is that thinking about it even when you don't want to. It is that pushing away of those thoughts because you don't want to seem paranoid or to "have a chip on your shoulder". It is in that slight withdrawal when you approach. It is the fact that you know, even if no-one else does. It is in that loud single violent thump of your heart. |
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Heart | 24 comments (24 topical, 0 editorial, 0 hidden)
Heart | 24 comments (24 topical, 0 editorial, 0 hidden)
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