"You Must be the Babysitter"

 

No, I'm not the babysitter

Soon after my grandson was born, I wondered how long it would take before I received my first brown grandmother insult. I expected it to come from a stranger, and that's pretty much what happened. 

My grandson's skin is a fair. His hair is straight, and he's obviously Asian. Whenever I pushed his stroller through a shopping mall, I half expected to be questioned by the mall police as a suspected kidnapper. Fortunately that never happened.

But one day when I was at my daughter's home, I answered the door. My curious. two-and-a-half year old grandson followed me to the door, and I scooped him up into my arms. Then the guy on the porch tossed out an insult so casually, I wasn't even sure if it was an insult at all. 

"Hi," he said, "you must be the babysitter." 

He was a salesman, marketing the new and exciting fiber optic cable connection door-to-door. I decided that he didn't know any better, so I sucked in a little air, smiled at him and listened while he rattled on about clear reception. I even took his card, thanked him, promised to give the information to Mr. Chang, and closed the door. 

It just felt wrong

Like I said, I'm not even sure if it was an insult, but it just felt wrong. It was actually less about me not being a babysitter than it was about the guy not thinking before he opened his mouth.

He assumed that I was a babysitter because of my skin color. It never occurred to him that I might be the little boy's grandmother and that I just happened to be brown.