I’m a waitress, used to have this amazing young busser I worked with named Beni. Beni was as American as apple pie, but like apple pie, originated somewhere that French is spoken.

One breakfast shift this woman comes up to me. The place is empty, she’s the last table before we close to flip the dining room for lunch. She looks around and hands me her tab in cash, saying “I didn’t want to leave it on the table,” in just north of a whisper.

Beni walks out of our server station behind me and her eyes get just a little bit wider. I calmly turn to Beni, hand him the cash, and say, hey Beni, can you hold this for me? then turn back to the guest and explain, very slowly and patiently, that in the future it’s perfectly acceptable to leave her cash on the table if she doesn’t want change because we’re all professionals and work as a team. It would not be an exaggeration to describe her departure as “scurrying away”.

I turned back to Beni and rolled my eyes. He just shrugged. I doubt it was the first time someone has acted like that towards him.

Everywhere I go they ask me where I am from , when I tell country of my birth and whwre I was raised, they say but what is your origin? They want to hear the nationality of my parent because my skin does not look white enough, THIS IS THE SITUATION IN FRANCE, even if you are fluent in French but does not look white they will ask you whats your origin. FU K EM

I lived on Long Island and was in 3rd or 4th grade. I was invited to a friend’s house to play and right before I entered the door, the dad stuck his leg out and blocked me from coming in.

He bent down and looked squared in the eye and asked “Where you from, kid?”

Ummm… “Taiwan, sir”

He quickly smiled and said “alright, I did some RNR there. You good people”.

I later found out that he doesn’t let anyone from Vietnam in the house.