Speaking Like Kincaid

 

                                                                    KINCAID

 

You see a man, a taxi driver; you ask him to take you to your destination; he quotes you a price. You immediately think that the price is in the local currency, for you are a tourist and you are familiar with these things (rates of exchange) and you fell even more free, for things seem so cheap, but then your driver ends by saying, “In U.S. currency.” You may say, “Hmmmm, do you have a formal sheet that lists official prices and destinations? Your driver obeys the law and shows you the sheet, and he apologizes for the incredible mistake he has made in quoting you a price off the top of his head which is so vastly different (favouring him) from the one listed. You are driven to your hotel by this taxi driver in his taxi, a brand new Japanese- made vehicle. The road on which you are traveling is a very bad road, very much in need of repair. You are feeling wonderful, so you say, “Oh, what a marvellous change these bad roads are from the splendid highways I am used to in North America.” (Or, worse, Europe.) Your driver is reckless; he is a dangerous man who drives in the middle of the road when he thinks no other cars are coming in the opposite direction, passes other cars on blind curves that run uphill, drives at sixty miles an hour on narrow, curving roads when the road sign, a rusting, beat-up thing left over from colonial days, says 40 MPH.  

 

 

 

                                                                       MY VERSION

 

 

You see a woman, a retail worker; you ask her to show you a certain clothing item; she points you in a direction annoyed. You notice that the direction she pointed you in is wrong, for you are lost and confused (which is normal for you) and no one is even around to help you, the store is deserted, but another retailer appears and gives you a nasty look, “Are you gonna buy something” You reply, “Why, does it bother you that I’m just standing here looking at clothes?” She roles her eyes and walks away mumbling under her breathe, and then returns with the department manager and tells her that your just standing here not buying anything but loitering as if that is acceptable (belittling me) on this premises. You are given dirty looks by both of these white women equally, seeing that you are a black woman. The emotions that you are feeling are swelling on the inside of you, soon you will have to blow. You are extremely angry, so you scream, “Uggh, How dare both of you racially profile me just because I am a black woman in a predominantly white store.” (with, scarce, customers.) They turned bright red; they almost started to sweat but managed to keep their cool as some customers walked by staring at both me and them while walking through the aisle, the manager tells me to please lower my voice, you respectfully but abruptly say no, more tension, both workers tell me to leave now, You say NO.