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I love the uneasiness and awkwardness that follows when someone inadvertently say something to someone of another race or even sexual orientation that could be construed as racist. It shows how much we walk on egg shells and can’t even be ourselves for fear of hurting someone.

A while ago, at an old workplace, I was goofing around with a white co-worker and trying to grab something of his. He was an older fella and he jokingly told me to, ‘get my cotton-picking hands off of his stuff.’ Well as soon as the last word was out of his mouth, he paled. I was black! Blacks and cotton have some bad history. Instead of going about his business, the man apologized profusely, thus compounding an issue that wasn’t even there in the first place.

I am sorry but I find it funny. It’s so much fun being black. More about that later.