20 Questions (sort of)

I’ve been away from the U.S. South long enough to have forgotten the kinds of questions that brown folk will ask other brown folk that they would never dream of asking any other ethnicity. I was reminded of this fraternal ease last week at work when during a business transaction was asked the following questions:

Q: How you get your hair so curly?

A: …Ummm, it’s natural.

Q: Oh, oh! Alright! What you got in your family? You mixed?

A: I’m not entirely sure…possibly Native American.

Q: One last thing: you definitely from the West Coast, right? ‘Cause you don’t talk like you from here.

A: Nope. South Carolina.

-bamboozled stare-

A: Army brat.

-ah ha! look-

As before, I still don’t quite know how to feel about these kinds of questions. I know that I’d never even think to ask anyone I didn’t already know stuff like this. Ever. What is it among “us” that seems to not only make it kosher, but even to invite it?

In other news, I had a lovely weekend with a bunch of my favorite pink people. And not once did a moment of ethnic/racial awkwardness arise. Even when I covered the table on Saturday with very traditional Southern cuisine. I think the best moment was when T. walked into the kitchen and exclaimed

WHEN is this going to be ready??? You’ve been in here lovin’ on this food for hours and I can’t wait much longer!

Which is exactly what I had been doing. Loving on it. The mess o’ fried chicken. The smashed potatoes with just-fried bacon, sour cream and cheese. The stop-your-heart macaroni and cheese made with with three kinds of cheese, eggs and heavy cream. The green beans with pork fat. I’ve never seen so little leftovers from such a feast. Made my heart glad.

~ by missterioso on October 1, 2007.