“What’s one of your favorite books?” English reached for her glass of iced tea.
“Oh, I had so many, but I was a big ‘Flowers in the Attic’ fan! VC Andrews. I liked mysteries and scary books best. So what are you workin’ on now?”
“Well, usually, I deal with historical texts, but I am helping out with a new project right now. It’s going well.”
“Oh, really? What project?”
“A project regarding racial microaggressions.”
Great. A dinner discussion to totally derail the ‘good time’ mood. Well, I wasn’t going to lie. Nothing says smiles, joy, and laughter like discussing unintentional racial discrimination. Yippee! Goooo, English!
“Microaggressions? What’s that?” Dallas and the mother asked at the same time. She shot a glance at Axel, but he was too busy playing on his phone while simultaneously wolfing down a spoonful of mashed potatoes.
“Microaggressions, when discussing racism, are essentially incidental, indirect, or unpremeditated bias or discrimination against members of a marginalized group.”
…Both of them are looking at me like I’m crazy. They probably have no damn idea what I’m talking about, even after an explanation.
“Mama, another way to explain it is, well… let me give you an example. It’s like tellin’ an Asian person you bet they can beat someone’s ass at Karate, or tellin’ a Black person they sure speak nice and proper, and are a credit to their race.” Axel’s gaze remained fixed on his phone as he spoke around a spoonful of food. “Do you understand now, or do you need further explanation?”
“I know what the hell it means, Axel! Condescending twit. I understood her explanation just fine without your Professor Dolittle input. I may not be high falutin’, and no Bill Gates or Einstein, but I ain’t the dullest knife in the drawer.” Axel sighed as if bored, still looking at his phone. He clearly didn’t give a damn that his mother might be insulted or embarrassed. That made it all the funnier.
“Well, you’re the one sittin’ there looking at her as if she has two heads… like you didn’t understand. I was just tryna help.”
“How would you know how I’m looking when you’ve got your nose in that there phone? You act like I only finished the second grade, and my teacher was a damn bed bug!” his mother barked. Dallas burst out laughing, while English barely controlled herself, almost losing the battle.
“Back on topic now, English.” The woman rolled her eyes at Axel, then turned back in her direction. “So, is the project a book about micro… micro—”
“Microaggressions.”
“Yes. So, there’s a book about microaggressions? Is it like Axel said, or something else?” she questioned, looking genuinely interested.
“Actually, it’s a screenplay based on the true life of a Black actress who endured racism, while working her way up to local stardom. It happened right here in Louisville. I was asked to take a look at it, and offer some historical insights.”
“Well, isn’t that something! They’re gonna make it into a movie, huh?”
“Yes, ma’am. You know what? On second thought, I will have some more mashed potatoes.”
“Oh, you don’t have to pretend you like ’em, English. Mama made them from a box. She added enough salt in ’em to swell up a creek and turn it right into an ocean,” Dallas teased.
“Oh, shut up, Dallas! Nothin’ is wrong with those ’taters, and they’re homemade, I beg your pardon! But something is wrong with you… I must’ve dropped you on my head because you became my instant headache.”
Dallas and Axel snickered.
“Oh, and for the record, I didn’t understand what the hell microaggressions meant, English, even after you explained it, as I’m sure you already guessed, bein’ as smart as you are and all, but I just didn’t appreciate my son tryna make me look stupid is all.”
“Make you look stupid? Oh, for God’s sake. Just say, ‘I still don’t understand what you’re saying.’” He laughed before gulping down some tea.
“I’m surprised you didn’t cut in and tell me what a screenplay was, too! Or ask me, what’s two plus two! My handsome, intelligent, yet also impolite, obstinate, and hard-headed son here thinks he knows better than everyone else.” Axel rolled his eyes, and looked back down at his phone. “English, Axel is crazy. Since he wanna learn everybody today, act like some college dean! Did he school you on that? Crazier than a two-dicked rooster trapped in a hen house!”
“No, ma’am.” English was about to burst as the woman was now yelling, a big, greasy smile on her face. “He didn’t tell me he was crazy. Should I be concerned?” English goaded.
“Yeah, because Axel is a loon. The cheese slid right off his cracker. Started when he was seven or eight. That’s when I noticed he got his father’s lunatic genes. He’s two bricks short of a load.”
Everyone was laughing now.
“…He’s a good man though.” Her smile slowly faded, and a sweetness shone in the older woman’s eyes. Pure love. “Axel and Dallas mean the world to me. They’ll tell everyone that I’m too clingy, but I’m not—I just look out for ’em. The world ain’t always kind.” English nodded in agreement. “They’re all I got.” She shrugged. “I work part time now at the Dollar General, just to keep busy more than anything else. Axel don’t really talk much about his dating life, and I don’t ask very often, but I’m glad he brought you here tonight. You’re so interesting! And pretty, too.”