Eh, except... You know...
So I knew going into this job would be a bit... Hard for me. To put it plainly: Chinese don't like Black folk, and Black folk don't like Chinese (except for the food). Thanks to some stupid Blacks who have robbed and murdered, now most Chinese are afraid of any Black person. For us who aren't homicidal or cleptos, we become embittered as we're followed around stores and given furtive, distrusting glances on the street.
Now, being one who loves the idea of racial reconciliation, I saw the God-given opportunity to be a bridge. God made me for this - He made me to be a cultural ambassador, to "integrate." So when little things happened, I tried to take it in stride. It was an awesome opportunity to correct a student's opinion that I was an anomaly as far as nice Black people go; no, it wasn't a bad thing that a lot of black people are at Malcolm X College; no, I'm not necessarily an exceptional speaking Black person, I just wasn't raised in the ghetto; no, I'm not a receptionist, I'm an ESL teacher. Teachable moments.
But I think this last episode has me questioning again what the heck I'm doing...
My fiance and I decided we wanted to live in Chinatown to be closer to my work. And I was thrilled with the idea of being IN the community of my students - shopping at the same grocery stores, bumping into them on the block. I also wanted to be near to my awesome new friends who are feeling more and more like family that I work with. And here was a golden opportunity - an apartment with dirt cheap rent, across from one of my dear coworkers, a block away from another.
The landlady seemed nice. A former student recommended me to her, as did another. She assured us that she "didn't discriminate" (where did that come from?). We told her we'd make a decision and call her soon. We called her the next day (WeD) and let her know that we'd be getting the apartment and giving her the security deposit when I was back to work on Monday (since I was sick on Thursday). Her husband was worried we might be "party animals" (wtf?), but his wife assured him we were good Christian kids (...right).
Well, lo and behold, today rolls around and guess what?
Our apartment was given to someone else.
Really? Really?
Now, I will be fair. We did ask her if we could take up the carpet. And since we wouldn't be living in the apartment for most of December, we asked for half rent that month (honeymooning, traveling, etc.). She agreed to both, but sure, if another couple comes and doesn't care about the carpet and will move it right away... Yeah, I can get that. Still extremely bogus since we had this verbal agreement and you knew we were going to move in, knew that we so desperately wanted to be close to my job... And the whole Christian brotherhood thing. But okay, whatever.
But I can't help but feel she was quicker to jilt us because of our melanin.
I almost feel like this is the last straw... Why am I working in this community where people hate my people? Why am I working in this place where people look at my fiance twice? Why am I even trying to live in a place where I need my former boss to "okay us" (bless his heart, I love him), and my students to assure future landlords about us. Why am I doing this?
*coughChristcough*
Oh yeah. The whole serving those who don't necessarily like you, being a light so people will be drawn to the Lord, being an example of the reconciliation that the Father so desperately wants (both racially and spiritually).
And I do love what I do. I love my students, I adore my coworkers... If I wasn't working here, some of the best people I've met in my life would not exist in it. And I do thrive in this foreign community. As I said before, God made me cross-culturally inclined.
Times like these, I just need to remember that. And I can't mimic the thinking that labels my sweet coworkers and students as "exceptions to the rule."
Pray for a sister, ya'll...
