Primary Colors

Having lived in New England for over a dozen years, I have come to know white people quite well. I have figured out what annoys me about them and what I appreciate about them. White people are well represented in my closest of friends, role models, and heroes and I have very few uncertainties about them. Yet after all these years, there is still that one remaining fear I have not conquered, that one place in town I have yet to step foot in:

According to Roommate Amy (not to be confused with me), the (white) owner's name is Tom, hence Uncle Tom. But considering that Harriet Beecher Stowe was raised in this town and wrote her book here, there is no doubt what the name is referring to. The place scares me just a little, and I was pretty glad to find it closed when we tried to go on Friday.

Speaking of colors, post-church Sunday brunch was again the place for some enlightening discourse on race. And because Brianna can only see the world in black and white (she judges by a palm test), we all had to be labeled as such. Most of the Asians at the table were stuck with the white label but apparently, I was special.

Brian: So, according to the palm test, she's white?

Moi: Why can't I be Asian? Why do I have to be black or white!?

Brianna: Oh no, she's not white. She's just light skinned.

Brianna, sensitive arbiter on all things black and white, then engaged Brian in a lengthy debate on the use of the word 'hot.' Tim and Brian had very exact specifications on hotness for girls and guys (really, I can't think of one conversation together when we don't talk about the CSU boys). According to Brianna, the label of 'hot' is a "white people thing" because black people don't use hot. Black people say 'fine.'

Brian: What about 'drop it like it's hot?'

Brianna: Drop it like it's hot just means that you're dropping it like it's hot.

And that, of course, explains everything.