Hidden (hidden) Racism?
(If you listen to T*om J*oyner, you know what I'm talking 'bout)
Scene: Local – and I do mean local jewelry store. Small, locally owned, know you by your first name kind of place.
In walk Lovegirl and I at about 5:30 tonight. A charm fell off of my bracelet, so I want to have it soldered back on to a ring and reattached and I want an amethyst ring I used to wear turned into a charm and put on the bracelet.
I explain what I want to the new lady behind the counter. No one that I’m accustomed to dealing with is in sight. Just new lady.
She asks for my address – I give her the number and street. “Jackson?” she asks.
To myself: “now why the hell would anyone from Jackson drive way out here to suburb land to have a charm bracelet fixed? I know this chick is not saying that ’cause I’m black I must be from Jackson. I know she’s not. Calm down Nerd Girl. Get yourself together.”
Out loud: “Umm no. I live in Insert Generic Suburb Name Here.”
So then the lady writes up the ticket and – as though I am daft and dumb – proceeds to read to me what I’ve just watched her write: “reattach yellow colored charm with three white colored stones to yellow colored bracelet.”
Yellow colored? It’s called gold. White colored? They’re called diamonds.
I understand her use of colorful adjectives and wanting to ensure that the correct work is done on the correct pieces, but for some reason, coupled with her assumption of where I lived*, it rubbed me the wrong way.
*Not that there’s anything wrong with Jackson.