As promised...

I've been called on my slackness in writing about my trini rants and for that, I thank you, Trini gyal. As promised, I will continue the trini rants here.

Ok, so why is it that when someone sees a person who visually does not fit the black or white mold, they have to ask, "where are you from"? I was asked this question no less than six times this week at work. I stopped counting after the sixth instance.

"Trinidad" was my response to the first person who asked. The look of surprise on her face was unmistakable. "Trinidad? You can't possibly be from Trinidad." I didn't have the energy to argue with her, nor was I in the mood to engage her in a conversation about my heritage. She followed me to the elevator and said, "you can't really be from that place. People from Trinidad are black and african looking, aren't they?" Well, she must have figured me out. Here I was, neither black, nor african looking (based on her assessment anyway).

"Ok, where do you think I'm from?" I asked her. "You must be Spanish or latin or something, so I'm guessing Brazil, Venezuela or Spain. Or, maybe you're Arabic?" "Sure" I responded. Did I mention we have the slowest elevators ever built? I had to stand there and listen to this moron.

"No, you're kidding, right?" Unfortunately, she continued talking as I stood there. "So, where are you from, really?" She asked again. I decided that if I had to stand there and listen to this ignorant weirdo, I'd have some fun. "I'm african." I responded. "I'm really from Morocco." She just stared at me. "What?" I asked her. "Well, it's just that I didn't think somebody like you would be from, you know." "No, I don't know" was my response. "Well" she said, "I believe you, I just knew you couldn't possibly be from Trinidad." She started looking a little uncomfortable. However, even as I stared straight ahead at the non-emerging elevator's location. I noticed that she kept staring at me. I just let her stare. I wasn't in the mood to educate her on race, culture or heritage. Finally, as we got off the quiet elevator ride, she asked, "so do you call yourself, African or Moroccan?" My response was, "Neither. I prefer human." She didn't seem to find the humor in my response. I don't understand why...

As she said ciao and threatened to talk with me later, she said that she was looking forward to it. Great. I'm a smartass and I still can't get rid of her. I'll have to be sure to be ruder if possible next time. I'm sure I'll have the oppprtunity again. She's already stopped by to tell me two things she found online pertaining to Morocco and the Spaniards - you know, my people. What a pity she didn't have the common sense to look up Trinidad before making assumptions about the beautiful people with the mixed up heritages of which they are proud!

Peace.