I’m walking down the street, and there’s a black man about to pass me.
“Wassup?”
I go into a public men’s room, and there’s a black guy there.
“Hey, how’s it goin’?”
I’m walking down a hallway in the hospital where I work, and there’s a black male maintenance worker.
“Yo, 'sup?”
Now I (who happen to be a white guy) don’t get this from black women, or white people of either gender, or people of any other race or ethnicity. Only black men who are total strangers. No one else could care less how I’m doin’ (or especially how it’s hangin’). I guess it’s nice to know that some people are trying to be friendly, but why is it only black men?
Perhaps because they were raised to be polite to persons they meet in the course of their everyday lives. I will smile and say hello to strangers quite often.
Because if white guys did it they may be accused of being “wiggers”.
This has got to be a first. A Pit thread about black people being too polite. It warms the cockles of my heart, it does.
I was filling up my gas tank the other day and instead of paying at the pump as I usually do, I went in to pay, since I wanted to pick up some smokes too. I passed this black guy going out as I was going in. He held the door for me and said, “Hey, how’s it going?”
WTF business is it of his how my life is going? And what’s the deal with holding the door for me like I’m a bitch?
Don’t even get me started on the Asian guy who saw me in the grocery store trying to get my not-quite 2-year-old nephew to sit still in the cart and 3-year-old niece to stop running up and down the check out lane and said, “Got your hands full huh?” Hey! My niece and nephew are NONE of your business, asshole!*
*[sub]The above is composed of 100% sarcasm. Translation available on request for those with sarcasm allergies, intolerance, or impairments.[/sub]
Whenever black men say friendly things to me, I always assume they’re happy because they just bought some malt liquor or fried chicken or something. Of course, if I say anything back, they’ll probably mug me, so I just stare straight ahead until they’re gone. Then I go home and eat some mayonnaise on Wonder bread to calm myself down. Now that’s good eating!
I’m white but I say some throw away greeting to most men I pass in the hall at work, at the gas station, wherever. More specifically, men close to my age.
About 20 years ago when I was young and thin and gorgeous, I was walking down Broadway. This black gentleman passed by, looked me up and down and said, “Mmm-mm! You baaad as a motherfucker!”
I, being a polite and well-raised young lady, smiled sweetly at him and said, “Why, thank you–I’m sure you’re as bad as a motherfucker, too!”
One Saturday night years ago, I was in the Fells Point area of Baltimore, sitting on a bench in a public square and enjoying a midnight pretzel snack after a night of heavy drinking.
Suddenly I looked up and there was a older black man standing there, smiling at me. He was dressed in raggy torn clothing and had no shoes.
Another homeless bum about to hit me up for change, I figured, instantly tightening and squinting at him suspciously.
“How are you doing this evening?” he asked in very clear and articulate tones. “I may be black, but I’m not going to rob you or spend your donation on drugs.”
A sophiscated bum! I wound up giving him five dollars; that opening gambit had me laughing for days afterwards.
I know what you’re saying. I had to call a black acquaintance on the phone the other day, and you know what the very first word out of his mouth was? “HELLO”
Just the other day, a black guy failed to acknowledge me when we passed in the street, so I really had no other choice but to contact the Honky Network, arrange for him to lose his job, have the cops plant drugs in his car, and convince his wife to start dating white guys. Took me forever to get it all worked out, but what can you do? It’s hard being The Man.
Honest to God, when I was a baby, my parents’ nickname for me was “Wiggers.”
