Whether I like it or not. You see the thing is that my ITALIAN-AMERICAN mother, is, at 70 years old, in addition to being a narcissistic borderline personality, kind of a racist. She won’t let the black batista at Starbucks make her coffee, but has to ask “Is there anyone else (and by anyone else, she means “is there anyone white”)? She won’t let the black bellboy carry her bags at a hotel because he might steel (and you and me both know that a black guy would look ridiculous in her cashmere sweater and pearls and so he wouldn’t bother taking them) and so on and so forth. She loves pointing out “mixed” kids on the subway, and she’ll whisper (well she’ll THINK she’s whispering but she’s really not) “D’you see those kids, across from us…they’re ‘mixed'”. I have no idea why she feels the need to whisper, the mixed kids (teenagers actually) know they’re mixed (and yes, I know biracial is the correct term), and I don’t know why she insists on pointing out biracial teenagers on subways either. She oughta know the rule about minding your own goddamn business in subways, but anyway. She also loves to point out interracial couples, as in “Do you see THAT, a white girl with a black guy”, and I could just punch her when she does it because more often than not, she calls my attention to a fat white woman who happens to be with a black guy. And I know what she’s saying (I know what she’s saying by not saying it) is that she thinks if I continue to be fat, I’ll end up with a black man. And she can’t have that. She’d rather I spend eternity alone than go with anyone outside my race.