Superbia
No. Do not try to catch my gaze. I do not wish to know you.
In fact, I would like to continue being the only Black man here.
There’s a thing we Blacks do when we find ourselves in alien-majority spaces. We seek out those like us. Then we nod.
It’s a sort of silent communication and affirmation; a non-verbal, “Hey, I see you. I am you”.
But you see, for the last year, I'd grown quite accustomed to being the only Black male on my team. And the only native Anglophone too! It was a totem pole all my own that I was not willing to share. Not today. Not ever!
Hmph! What languages does he speak? I'm sure his English is terrible!
And oh my god, what's with that oatmeal monstrosity on his head? It's only 12° out.
In the 5 minutes that it took the seemingly affable stranger to be introduced, I was already looking - and finding - ways to disparage him. His beige beanie was an easy target.
“Bonjour tout le monde!” His voice is rhythmic and clear. His smile sincere.
Aaaah shit! He’s polite! And pleasant!
I still don’t look up.
Bye, Felisha.
Mario
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