Hot Chicks; I’m Still a Prejudiced Elitist – Gary Young MySpace Blog

Hot Chicks; I’m Still a Prejudiced Elitist

HOT CHICKS

So you probably already know that my workplace moved from 7th St. in Chinatown to K St.  Lots of lobbying firm and financial institutions.  It’s a very different and much improved vibe.  I’ve heard a few guys say something that sat in the back of my brain for a while and then all of a sudden … wait a minute.  What they said was something along the lines of:  “Finally.  Some hot women.”  Or “There’s a lot of hot women here unlike in Chinatown.”

And lemme tell you, there are so many young, professional, fit attractive women in that area it’s mind-boggling.  When you’re walking down the street you don’t have time for your eyes to settle on one woman before another walks by.  Makes me feel like the lecherous wolf in the Looney Tunes cartoons.  Ah-oogah!  (How do you spell that?)  Eyes pop out of your head, tongue unfurls down to the ground, levitating with limbs akimbo.

Anyway, when these guys said that I was thinking, “What?!  There are non-stop hot women in Chinatown.”  I mean, c’mon.  We worked above a Hooters.  Thing is, though, that a lot of the attractive women I saw were black women.

And I realized something that is so foreign to me.  A lot of guys (and people in general) aren’t attracted to certain races.  One guy said that there were no attractive women working at Hooters.  And I was like, are you kidding me?  It’s a Hooters!  What he meant and what he eventually said is that the Chinatown Hooters had almost all black women.  And on the whole, to him, black women aren’t attractive.

I mean, from my misadventures with online personals I’m well aware of a general non-preference toward black men.  It just seems bizarre to me, though.  I don’t understand it.

A beautiful woman is a beautiful woman.

I’M STILL A PREJUDICED, ELITIST
When I was in middle school I rode a short bus to Holabird Middle School.  I was there for the G&T program.  This particular bus went all over the place to pick up G&T kids.  It also picked up special education kids.  Between me and the four black guys who were in special ed. on that bus, we comprised 5 of the 6 black students out of the entire population of Holabird Middle at the time.

The other black guys asked me one day why I didn’t sit in the back of the bus with them.  But the white kids were my friends/classmates and the people I knew.  I told one of my aunts about it one day and she said that I was prejudiced against those guys.  I was judging them before giving them a chance.  Ouch.  So the next day after some visible awkwardness and indecision I sat in the back of the bus with the black guys who were in special ed.

I did not enjoy myself.  They spent the ride making fun of the other kids on the bus.  Tempers flared easily.  Violence seemed like it wasn’t far enough away from any situation or conversation.

That afternoon and on subsequent days I sat up front with the white kids.

My sense of belonging is underdeveloped.  I feel an underdeveloped sense of allegiance to the so-called race of Blackness.  Or to any group, really.  It’s not entirely absent, but it’s not as strong as I’d expect it to be.  (Sometimes I experience the same phenomenon to the human race.)  Don’t get me wrong.  I’m acutely aware of who I am and where I come from.  I’m proud of my people.  Um, some of them.

No race has a monopoly on _____.  Some have lived up to their potential in certain areas more than others, but we’ve all got our pluses and minuses, right.

Here’s what I’m getting at.  Working in the city has been troubling sometimes.  It can be pretty ghetto, if you know what I mean.  I walk around and there’s all this hustle and bustle and professionals doing their thing.  Political power all around and some amazing and beautiful places and things.  But I see all these homeless guys and drugged out guys and they’re all black.  All these dudes begging for change.  Black guys.  Yuppies walking around like an old Disney film about businesses and developing city life, then you see some dude who looks like he just came from a Flava Flav fashion convention AND a Li’l John look-a-like contest.  Caricatures of stereotypes.  Black girls loud and cursing.

I’m troubled because I keep seeing things that reinforce my own prejudices.  And that bothers me.

Oh well.  Such is life.  Everyone’s gonna do what they’re gonna do.

Toward the other end of the spectrum, by the way, when I go home to Dundalk around North Point Blvd. where gas is cheapest the number of Confederate Flag ornamentation increases exponentially.  Sigh.

I need to dress better now that I’m on K St.  The building we’re in is full of lawyers and financiers and such.  They are sharp.

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