“I could never, ever vote for someone who is openly racist, misogynistic, and bigoted. Who continuously proves how inept and ill-equipped…”
He threw his hands up in the air, interrupting with a chuckled, “Ok, lib-tard” and an eye-roll unlike that I’ve never seen.
Wait. That’s not true.
The eye-roll looked exactly like the previous dozen Jim had thrown at me from across the patio table during our first, and only, date.
My steadfast statement in regard to the Cheeto-in-Chief didn’t come out of left field. Jim had been poking and prodding throughout our relatively brief conversation, all the while basking in his privilege as a white, CIS man. The conversational tension had reached its crux.
From his open disdain at my using an iPhone and other Apple products (apparently that’s a thing?), to scoffing at my mention of affordable housing and healthcare not tied to employment, to firmly denying the existence of the scientific process (wuttt?), to defending Trump around every corner…I was flabbergasted this human sitting an arm’s length away was just so…rude. And because “Jim” was very well aware of my political and ideological beliefs before our date, I began to believe I was on a low-budget, hidden camera reality show.
It was time for me to leave, even if it meant my dream of becoming an accidental, D-list Bravolebrity would never come to fruition. I could not stay tethered to this social interaction for a second longer.
Having called him out on his dismissive and boorish behavior more than once, I became acutely aware of his 6’2”, 240 lb. frame as I zipped my purse, secured my mask, and ordered an Uber. I knew the color rising in my cheeks would betray my confidence if I didn’t move quickly.
I thanked him for the drink and braced myself to stand. As I did, he grabbed my wrist, planting it firmly on the table, and stood fast. Towering at least a foot overhead, he looked down at me.
Taunting.
“Get your fucking hands off me, now.” I managed through my face mask as I wrenched my arm away from his grip.
It was then other patrons took notice and I scanned the small patio in a desperate attempt to make eye contact with someone. Anyone.
Without another word he turned and walked off the patio and away.
I just wanted him to disappear. Or maybe I wanted to disappear.
It’s not lost on me that I’ve been really lucky in situations that require a getaway car and even luckier so that in every one of those situations, I’ve been cared for by a virtual stranger via a ride-share app.
I thanked Rafael as I climbed in his car, and there’s no doubt in my mind he heard my voice shaking. “Are you ok? Do you need anything?”, he inquired. Kindness felt foreign in that moment and I teared up a bit.
“I’m fine. Thank you. Worst date of my life.
All definitive. All mostly true.
Rafael and I talked the entire ten minutes back to my car and then sat parked for another 20 or so. First, he listened to my emotive account of the evening, interjecting with empathy and a genuine concern for my well-being (I and then we got to the root of my horrid evening interaction.
See, Rafael immigrated to the United States from Nicaragua when he was fourteen years old. Drawing situational parallels between the current state of US democracy and what he and his family experienced in Nicaragua, he graced me with a history lesson I never received in school. I listened with purpose.
He saw first-hand what a right-wing upheaval, backed by foreign powers (including the US) does to a country. What it does to its people. What he didn’t see he learned from his parents via their stories, photos, and detailed accounts.
Rafael reminded me that the “Jim’s” are the same in every country. They might speak different languages, and they likely spew different types of hate, but they are all the same.
Unknowingly, and maybe more profound for me in that moment, Rafael reminded me that people like him exist. People I – and you - would be proud to know, and proud to call friend.
He listened, and taught, and provided comfort. A stranger did all that for another stranger, simply out of the goodness of his heart. I felt seen and heard and I can only hope he did as well.
I drove home in silence, reflecting on my encounters with two humans that couldn’t be more different.
Differences that had nothing to do with age, race, wealth, career, background.
And everything to do with empathy? Kindness? Compassion? Altruism? Love? Respect?
I’ll let you choose.
*all names have been changed.