Reaction: Asshole

9^th March 2011

How to be a White Asshole.

Yesterday I was getting petrol at the Engen garage in Gardens, Table Mountain looming high above us. An emergency service vehicle had parked at the bowser next to me, the trailer attached jutting out into the exit lane.

It was a gorgeous day, bright blue sky and whisps of cloud, an afternoon waiting to happen.

A white woman with black shiny hair and large dark glasses drove her commanding four wheel drive away from her bowser, wanting to get out of the petrol station. Of course she couldn’t, as the emergency service trailer was blocking her way, and, just to amp things up, the driver had gone to buy whatever he wanted to buy in the shop.

She didn’t take long to go from zero to 100, really, it only took a sentence.

“Can you move your car please?” she asked the passenger of the vehicle, also an emergency services guy.

“I can’t, I’m not the driver,” he replied.

“Well, can you get him to move it?”

“He’s not here.”

The tall petrol attendant was fluffing around trying to help but not knowing what to do and so she went for him.

“This is ridiculous, I’m picking up children at school, move that vehicle!” she yelled, now looking at me for sympathy.

The petrol attendant now turned on me and started giving me orders to move, and once I did a four point turn and reversed she could get out, and drove past giving me a look of pained gratitude, as if I’d done her a favour so she could go and pick up her kids. Actually, I didn’t. I didn’t give a shit about her problem as she was being so vile, so rude; I moved as I wanted to leave too.

By the end I felt righteously indignant, and would love to have yelled after her, “you’re one of the reasons white people are so disliked!” Ring a bell? I’ve heard that before ….(in a previous post, I won't assume you're a loyal reader;)

I left thinking what assholes people can be.

Today, it was my turn. I have hit my limit of being a walking cash machine, a soft touch and someone to try and sell shit to or simply demand money from. So when I parked the car at Camps Bay beach, in full view of the cafes so I am pretty much 100% certain it will not get broken into, and therefore I do not need a car guard, and a car guard appears in my face and demands to know how long I am going to be, my irritation rises.

To put things in context, I had just picked my mother up from the airport so my irritation levels were in the red zone anyway. Bad timing on the part of the car guard.

And the jewelery saleswoman, the guy flogging a carved wooden table, the sunglass vendor, the Malawian artists toting lurid canvasses , the beadwork guy, the chicken wire art guy, the lady asking for money for her church, the young guy just asking for money. All I wanted to do was sit on the beach and watch the sea and drink a glass of wine. Not be singled out because I’m white – (is this what was happening? The black people next to me didn’t get approached by any of these vendors). Not to be guilt tripped, not to be cajoled or pushed to make a sympathy purchase.

Is this one of the many legacies we will have to live with, where we are seen as moneyed walking ATM’s that dispense simply because we are white? Which on one hand is fair enough as the divide is so searingly obvious in this blindingly polarised country, with its fake Tuscan security villages and squillion dollar beach apartments.

No. I have had enough. I don't have an apartment in a security village, or a fabulous beach-house. I work hard, and invest my earnings in social projects. I have bought enough shit that I don’t need to fill a cupboard. A pink tartan cap, fake Burberry; a really ugly Springboks cap, a ragdoll, beaded figures. I am done. No more thoughtless purchases. AND I will also not be using phrases like “not today, sorry I don’t have change.” No. I am feeling ruthless. Honest. The Malawian guy’s paintings were hideous. But they would be magnificent on a t-shirt, and I would consider buying one of those. But don’t give me that look and tell me how bad business is. I know how fucking bad business is. Mine's not looking too good either. Don’t sell from a guilt trip. Because when that person sees you again, you will get iced.

Like the bloke who sold me the fucking pink check cap in Irene. I saw him in an entirely different location in Woodmead, and this time, he told me I looked like Angelina Jolie – last time it was J-Lo. But he did his same routine of putting an ugly hat on my dashboard and telling me it was my lucky day, and that he was giving it to me free. I practically threw it back at him when he put on his miserable face to tell me that he hasn’t sold a single hat and in addition, that its his birthday. He was a bit taken aback to be so bluntly brushed off, but he doesn’t realise that I am OVER it.

Neither does the fat teenager who pushed my 80 year old mother out of the way to get into the lift in our apartment block in Cape Town. Little shit. I started lecturing him on manners, and then realised I was a woman in a lift with four men and the fat kid and perhaps I should pick my battle space a little better. Or perhaps I’m just a coward, who doesn’t know spontaneously what to do in these situations.

Race, colour, culture, race. Its incredibly hard to negotiate the variables here, and even harder with ye olde maman attached, sniping at every opportunity.

So to end, I think these are all ideal circumstances should you ever aspire to become a White Asshole or retain your White Asshole status. Responses include rolling up your window without making eye contact on encountering a beggar, being rude or abrasive. There are situations where I find myself so triggered that it is nigh impossible to be nice, like when I'm being relentlessly badgered by a drunk Cape Town car guard. I get it that this is the price we pay for the past, this continuous reminder of need, deprivation, a debt that will always be there, in some peoples' psyches. 

The only decent middle ground I know of and aspire to is to be honest and clear. I don't want to be a white asshole. I need help here, Pema Chodron, someone .... someone who knows about compassion in action and transcendence, please!!  It doesn't serve any of us to be ingratiating, pushy or bullying. Oh to dissolve the triangle of victim, perpetrator, rescuer.