Not To Be Rude (But)

In which a white lady speaks to females of color… 

I’ve been thinking,
and I know thinking’s a dangerous enterprise
often hidden in the guise of knowing and
sometimes it’s guessing with a twist;
but all the same I’ve been thinking –
and thinking’s something you should prize me for
’cause you aren’t ignored in my precious mind,
only tossed around a little…
but only in my head! Never for real –

But anyway. The point.

See, when I talk to you people
(and I don’t mean it like that, I’m just sayin’ –
speakin’ from my life, not just playin’ like
most of y’all do),
I notice the way you look at me, as if I shouldn’t
feel happy to be me, y’know?
And what did I do to earn this look
from you?

Now I understand you have
no reason to trust me;
your truths may set me free, but you have
no obligation to sell them to me –
though I will pay top dollar for anything
you might wanna holler through
to my reality… but only me.
We can keep secrets, can’t we?

But anyway. The point.

I look at y’all, and I think,
“What if it’s true? What if they really don’t feel whole
like I do?
If I were in their shoes, what steps would I choose
to become whole again?”
And friend, I thought about what some of you do, and
I’m not sure if this is true,
but let me share what I think with you.

First of all, we’re not all the same
(and not all of us are to blame; some of us
weren’t here when y’all were here, and some
care much more than others, you see–),
so you shouldn’t treat them the way you treat me.
Because why would you see us all the same way?
Our realities aren’t equal from day to day, and
if you carefully speak to the way they’re raised,
I’m sure they’ll come back many days
to tell you what they know.
Kinda like what I’m doing here.
It’ll help ease some fear with them, y’see?

Now back to me.

Sometimes I watch y’all talk to Sue,
Jess, Jane, Lucy, and Brenda,
Stacey, and Nicole, and sometimes even
Justine. You know what I’m saying, right?
Well, anyway. I watch y’all sit and listen,
sometimes speak, but you always inspire their
pique instead of their sympathy.

I don’t know what to take that to be!
They’re always grabbing their plates and leaving,
and the scraps they leave behind are always
deceiving to your eyes, but I know they’re scraps.
Yet y’all keep rolling on your backs and eating them!
I know you think y’all are equals,
but they’re not cheating you.
Nah, that’s not it.
So don’t throw a fit when they leave.
Their bellies are just full.

But anyway. The point.

Anyway, when y’all roll around so much
(at least that’s when I see you;
what else do y’all do, anyway?),
I think, “They look like dogs, except instead of paws their
hands are outstretched and grasping.”
And my, do they ever grasp!
They pull down skirts, they overturn tablecloths, and
if your fingertips reach the edges of the plate,
the entire meal is spoiled!
I see it time and time again. You see, the ladies
say you’ve foiled their party plans and
can’t wait until dinner’s over.
You don’t wait until they’re sober.

Lucy says y’all always try to lick her apples,
or sometimes you leave little hairs in the meals
you’ve cooked.
Brenda, Sue, and Jess got into
a real stink over who had the best dress, ruining
the meal for the rest of the guests.
Jane and Stacey tried to host, but the ghosts of your preparation
kept chasing them throughout the meal, until Justine revealed
maybe some of you were there,
might’ve styled their hair a bit,
could have cooked and cleaned the house,
sort of parked the guest’s cars –
and oh! there was a dreadful mouse in the kitchen
and one of you surely shooed it away!
Stacey joked y’all might’ve eaten it.

Brenda said you did eat it.
And she said she caught you sneaking
bites of the food to your children –
not hers –
and she thinks you may have poisoned her meal
because she told you the proper way
to serve was in heels, not bare feet.
And she’s right, you know, the walk’s neat when
you’re in heels 4 inches high, shoulders square and
palms flat but spry
in case anything spills and you have to
right it again.

And if you did poison her,
that’s just spiteful.

But anyway. The point.

Do you remember when one of you
made this spectacular stew, and Sue asked
where you got the recipe? And someone answered,
“It lives in me.” And all the other staff agreed,
and then you all rested on your knees
because all the chairs were taken?
Well, don’t do that.
You were mistaken.
Food is equal opportunity, and we’re in a community,
and our skills are equally matched.
So, that recipe?
Don’t get attached.
It’s for everyone to eat, after all.

And remember when Brenda slapped your hand for
touching her plate because, understand,
‘there was a small bug creeping near,’ you said,
and she might eat it, something like that?
And if she did eat, she’d feel defeated and angry at the kitchen’s hands
and slap those too? (I don’t know; I wasn’t around but Lucy told me
Brenda frowned dreadfully.)
Well, what could she expect from you?
She saw your hands, your strange hands
(were they clean?) on her plate! For all she knew,
you fancied a date that sat squarely in her sight.
Your insolence nearly ruined the night!
You could’ve asked politely,
could’ve said,
“Miss Brenda,
(then lower your head)
I hate to impose,
but there’s something
moving on your plate,”
and complimented her rose,
and gently switched her plate
with double helpings.
From plate to platter!

Why’re you crying, y’all? What’s the matter?

Besides, I’m not finished yet! You might like the ending.

Please, don’t be upset. I’m almost done;
stop falling out of joint.

But anyway. The point.

As I see it, I think there’s sometimes
spite in your eyes.
As you serve, you want bad things to befall them, but…
don’t you want us to warn you
when there’s a problem?
Look at what I’m doing here,
trying to make your errors clear so you never repeat them.
You can cook the meals and eat them
in pretty dresses like theirs and
have new pearly shoes!
You can clean with dignity, if you choose!
But be careful it’s not a ruse they’re offering you, and
you still know what you’re expected to do.

Hmm, back to the dog thing… I think it’s your hair.
You should straighten it.
Maybe arch your brows.
Lucy had the most delightful bows in her hair;
ask her about it if she’s not repulsed by you.
And whatever you do, don’t compare what you do here
to what she does where she works.
Tell her it’s for another party guest,
and she’ll be impressed someone sent you
to ask about what she has.
And keep your eyes downcast.

You’re leaving? Well, okay, I’ll finish this fast,
but I won’t speak until you sit back down.
Hope my pacing doesn’t bother you,
but we need to talk this through.

I know that for a while you’ve been the help,
but have you ever thought about hosting parties
for yourself? Just leave the stew recipe ’cause
the reaction’s tremendous, and if we arrive there,
don’t be pretentious if we sit down to eat with you.
We did let you sit with us, remember?

Now I want you to sit on this with me and reflect;
I see the rest of them behind you, but don’t be upset –
See, that’s why I specifically asked you to listen;
they’re putting all of us in this awkward position.
Maybe you can get through to them — hey!
Don’t all of you have something better to do than
to cry about listening to me? We can’t eat anyway until
you’ve cooked the food, and after all,
not to be rude, but this isn’t about all of you anyway, and
I’m sure there’s plenty of work y’all have to do.