Crap Queen

I think one of the nurses I work with could be a racist. She might definitely be one, I’m just loathe to come right out and say it because I’m kinda loving my job right now. I want an opportunity to learn more before assuming what a (maybe) 30-y-o jaded, burnt out nurse might mean by what I perceived as an insensitive, racist statement. And by “before assuming”, I mean knock that bitch out because she’s a dirty racist…

DraMOMic Part 4: Favoritism & Hypocrisy

In the last few posts we got some insight into my relationship with my mother and what 70’s icon she used to tease me.  We also saw some ethnicity-elimination strategies my Jewish family employed that helped form the snarky, stubborn, independent, bacon-eating thinker I am today.

What hurt just a wee bit more than Afro threats or “You are what your mother is” was the favoritism my Jewish grandmother showed my little, pinky-white, blonde-haired cousin.  His parents, Aunt D and Uncle B, raised him as a true Jew – Bris, Bar Mitzvah; the whole bag of gelt.

DraMOMic, Part 2 – The Afro Threat

Last week it was postulated that I may or may not have been raised by a bunch of racists.  Am I reaching here?  Proximity to the situation could make me kind of biased (ha ha), but consider the possibilities when a reformed Jewish family joins in marriage with a tribe of Puerto Rican Catholics.  No way they ever got together to devise “fusion” kosher/comida criolla.  Trust me, gefilte fish empanadas (no, just NO!) and bialys with queso blanco & lox (please kill me) would SUCK on ANY planet…

Anyway, was mom’s family actually a bunch of Archie Bunker-watching bigots? For me, the clues added up…