Hatred at Costco: Not in My City

Hello, friends.

Have you ever been in a situation where someone says something, and you don't think of the perfect response until hours later? Maybe someone made a comment and you later think of the perfect joke to respond with, or someone insults you and it takes you a while to think of the perfect comeback, or someone hits on you at a Purim party and you think of the perfect teasing response as soon as they walk away (hypothetically). You've missed the moment. I think it happens to all of us.

One type of situation about which I get really annoyed with myself for failing to respond in the moment is when I miss the opportunity to defend someone--whether it was someone being teased when I was younger, or if now someone says something just a little too off-color or offensive to someone else. I hate it, and I want to speak up. Also, contrary to most people, I do not mind confrontation if it is justified, and I am so honest by nature it sometimes gets me in trouble. So if I do manage to think of a response in the moment, especially to defend someone, I'm willing to say it, and often actually can't avoid saying it.

So this morning I began my day as I begin most Sundays: annoyed because the cat I live with woke me up by meowing outside my door way too early. I then slowly became more friendly after I had some tea and eggs, before heading out to my car to run some errands in Queens. First stop: Costco.

Now, I love Costco. It's really impossible to explain why, I just do. But I don't always love it on Sunday, because the one nearest me is always packed. However, I really needed some things, so I decided to go and just not get a cart so that I could maneuver around everybody more quickly.

So I grabbed a few things and awkwardly held them all in my arms, then headed to the registers to pay. As I was standing there in line--trying not to look like I was struggling to hold two industrial-sized bottles of lotion--I realized I'd forgotten something. After swearing in my mind, I left the line and headed all the way to the back of the store to get some tomatoes.

It's funny how sometimes timing is everything. How even just a few minutes or even seconds can make a difference in the outcome of a situation. So while I was not happy to waddle back through a packed Costco with all of my things in my arms, in the end, I was glad I did.

Now I should describe the Costco I go to here in the city before I continue with my story: it represents a fair amount of the diversity in New York City. When I left my priest- and nun-filled university in Rome in June, I was glad to come home to my city, thinking that I could wear sundresses and not feel shamed for baring my shoulders (the scandal!). But then I went to this Costco in Queens for the first time, and realized many of the people there were very religious Orthodox Jews and Muslims. Oops! I still wear what I want, and (unlike in Rome), no one has commented yet, but I'm still aware of the high density of religious folks at Costco.

So when I returned to the same line after I'd gotten my last item, I was a few people further back in the line than I had been before. At the register at the front of the line was a group of three women, two in Muslim head scarves and one not, with an adorable and well-behaved little girl. They were moving through the register already, when the man directly in front of me (a white man, maybe in his late 50's or early 60's) asked one of the women to move her cart up more. The woman did so. One of the other women then asked her--in another language--what the man had wanted (this was clear through their gestures, I'm not sure what language they were speaking). After this exchange, the man turns around to me and says, very loudly and very obviously, "They should really learn to speak English."  One of the women immediately said, in perfect English, "We do speak English," to which I replied simply to him, "They seem nice enough, and they speak English."

I was so shocked.

It was clear he was not placated by my response, and wanted me to agree with him. I'm not sure exactly what more he said, but I can tell you that it was awkward when he was standing right behind the women at the register a few seconds later. When the ladies left, the one carrying the child said sarcastically, "Goodbye, sir!" and the little girl echoed "Goodbye!" I thought it was an amazing moment that, even if the little girl didn't understand what had gone on, she was still saying goodbye to this man who had been so rude the them. It's important, to the best of our ability, to still act according to our own values, even in the face of such horrible actions, because we never want to become like those who are so full of hate. It seemed pretty clear to me that he was most likely turned off because they were Muslim, and speaking another language. Basically, just because they were different from him.

Once the group of women left to head out to the parking lot, I refused to let the issue drop (because I was angry, and I wanted to call him out on his behavior). I looked at him as he waited for his change, from the cashier, and I said, "Why did you think that they don't speak English?" He responded by starting to yell at me, saying "Why are you in my business?" or something to that effect. I absolutely refused to let him have the last word, so that no matter what he said, I just replied, "There's no need to be rude" (in a polite and calm tone, in response to his yelling). It was insane how rude this man was being, first by commenting on the women, and then by yelling at me. Real classy gentleman, that one, and he didn't even have the guts to speak to the women directly.

It was cute how maybe he thought I would be intimidated by him, a tall man, standing over me and yelling (though could I really even call someone who treats women so terribly a "man?" Debatable.). I briefly wondered if he would've hit me if I was a man, and then I wished he actually would because I would've loved explaining to a police officer what had happened. He eventually just left.

I was glad that I was able to catch up with the group of women in the parking lot as they were loading their things into their car. I wanted to emphasize to them how sorry I was that they were treated that way, and I said, "I wanted you to know that we're not all jerks," though I'm not sure who I meant by "we." Americans? White people? I think I just meant humans, because one of the women's English was so good she was probably American herself anyway. I wanted them to know that there are humans who don't believe what this (clearly racist) man believes. Of course there's value to learning the primary language of the country in which you live, of course--but at least one of them spoke English, and it was clear that the man hadn't cared. They thanked me for standing up for them, and, before I headed off to my own car, they said, "We're used to it, it happens to us."

This made me incredibly sad. In the most diverse place possibly on the planet, these young women should have to face discrimination when they aren't doing anything, it just made me sad and makes me want to cry. In fact, I did cry on my way to my next errand, out of adrenaline and sadness. The only thing I wish I had done differently in the whole situations is that I wish I'd told the women that I'm Jewish, because I could've made a strong interfaith connection there as well, by showing people that, as a Jew, I feel compelled to act in a situation like this. But I'm just glad I managed to respond to the horrible man in the moment, and that I didn't let it slip by.

But I need to emphasize that my sharing this story is not about me--it's about you. I write this blog to share my experiences, yes, but not with a passive goal--it is not enough for you to read this blog; this is about action. This is about you reading and hopefully agreeing about the importance of interfaith relations and understanding the Other and letting it make you better, so that we can collectively make the world better. If you just read this blog, and don't really think about what it means and let it influence how you act, then I am failing at my ultimate goal. We absolutely need to stand up for those facing any kind of prejudice or unwarranted hatred. The Holocaust happened because too many good people did not have the courage to stand up, or felt that what was going on just "wasn't their business." It brings to mind an important quote by the prominent war-time Protestant pastor and anti-Hitler speaker, Martin Niemöller:
 
First they came for the Socialists, and I did not speak out—
Because I was not a Socialist.
 
Then they came for the Trade Unionists, and I did not speak out—
Because I was not a Trade Unionist.
 
Then they came for the Jews, and I did not speak out—
Because I was not a Jew.
 
Then they came for me—and there was no one left to speak for me.

When I called my father to tell him what had happened, the main thing I could get out was, "Not in my city." Not in my city will I stand by silent. Not in my city will I suffer bigots and racists and ignorant fools to say whatever they want, and think they can get away with it. I mean, I don't like it happening anywhere, but especially not in my home. It's just not gonna happen, and I hope you won't let it happen either.

Hmm, guess it looks like I have a new hashtag...

#notinmycity

Now go out and love one another.

<3,
Allyson