Letter to an Angry Man at the Grocery Store
Our skin made us the same
because no one else in the store was that pale.
As foreigners,
we chose to be in the Philippines
and were guests.
As foreigners,
we didn’t know the language as well as most around us --
but I’m willing to bet
I know more Cebuano than you
even though I’m certain you’ve been there longer.
No matter how similar we may be,
I was ashamed to be stuck with you
in any category.
I saw you yelling mercilessly at a Filipina employee.
She was younger than you.
She was smaller than you.
She probably didn’t understand half of what you were saying.
She looked ready to cry.
I wanted more than anything to step between you two.
I wanted to yell back to you in English that
she didn’t deserve your rudeness
and that she most likely had done her best to help --
it was her job to serve you,
even if you were a jerk.
I wanted to comfort her in Cebuano
and call you names you wouldn’t have understood.
I wanted to apologize to her for your unacceptable behavior
and assure her that she didn’t deserve to be yelled at.
But I am ashamed of myself
because I did nothing.
If I could go back in time,
I would walk up next to her.
Sometimes in my imagination I yell back at you
and sometimes I keep the peace and speak calmly
both to you and to the abused Filipina employee.
Whether or not there would be yelling involved,
I want more than anything to tell you
that I am ashamed of your behavior.
You and I were guests in a beautiful country
and I am willing to bet
you stopped seeing the beauty long ago.
I will go back to the Philippines.
and sometimes a part of me hopes
that I will see you again,
yelling at another poor employee,
so that I can redeem myself
and stand up where I didn’t before.
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