Haven’t we met before? I think it was the time we were at the same dry cleaner. You overheard me talking with another customer. I saw when you raised your eyebrows because you heard I am an Asian American who loves R&B music and enjoys watching NASCAR while noshing on my favorite desert raisin rug galah from Weinstein’s Jewish deli. You see, I also take offense when you cocked your head to the side, and squinted your eyes in disbelief when I walked by with my Jamaican born wife and three children. I saw the flushed look in your face when your kids broke their hands free from yours and ran over to me and my family and gave us all high fives.

 Oh let me guess, all the times your sons told you that they were going over to Tommy’s house to play video games that they never mentioned that His dad was Asian and his mom was Jamaican. Maybe if you heard that his name was Diondre or Osuku you would have at least received fare warning on how to mask your reaction when we finally met.

 So let’s analyze this deeper. In our most recent encounter you’ve spoken to me on the phone as a client or the concerned parent of a child who attends the school you principal. When we finally meet you realize that I am two shades darker than our first black president. The child I parent happens to be my blonde haired and blue eyed step daughter of my new marriage to a Polish American woman. So once again let me guess, you didn’t pick up any cadence in my voice as your new client or this concerned parent that I was black.

 There were no grammatical or linguistical ticks that would so easily clue you in as to my ethnicity or academic prowess. So was it the fact that I was raised in New York among Israeli’s, Italians and East Indians for half my life the determining factor in my racial anonymity? Or was it the fact that I am both a trained actor and Journalist?

 But then again I think we met when we were seated next to each other at a Sports bar watching the World Cup games. While attempting to turn up the volume so that we can hear the official’s rationale behind an obviously bogus ruling, the bartender inadvertently changed the channel and the immigration law and Arizona was being discussed on a news channel. Somebody yells out “Keep it there, that’s my brother-in-law Sam the reporter; this is his first national story.” So we pause for a moment to watch the story as we patiently patronize our beer bud’s request. I remember vividly because this was the day I saw someone die right before my eyes.

 So you leaned over to me and mumbled under your breath saying, “I don’t understand why we can’t just impose marshal law and have all those people thrown onto a freight train and ship ‘em somewhere.” I paused, looked at you and smirked and said “wow, did you just think that up?” You responded by saying, “Nah, I’ve felt this way for quite some time.” I said, “me too.” Then you introduced yourself and I did like wise. I never thought two words could bring sudden death to someone’s affect like Manuel Reyes. I guess all Latin Americans don’t have dark features after all.

 Now that I think of it, I may owe you an apology for coming off a little smug when I saw you last Saturday, do you recall?  I met you at the local tire and lube shop while you were waiting on your oil change and tire rotation. I noticed a tiny leak in your master cylinder on your vintage Ford and came out to the waiting area and called out your name. You came over and I said that your car would be finished shortly but that you should consider replacing this item. I can render a temporary fix but you shouldn’t wait too long. I was disappointed but not surprised when you asked me in a doubtful fashion, if I was certain of this. I said yes. You were slightly embarrassed to admit that you didn’t know the function of a master cylinder and that maybe I should get the manger to confirm my findings.

 Unfortunately for me this occurrence is far too typical especially on weekends. I responded by saying that “I am the manager and that I have been a master mechanic for 23 years; although you’ve been a customer here for over three years I was never your mechanic before. I see you’ve had major mechanical work done to your car before but you’ve never asked to see me.” It was clear that I had upset you. You became adamant about having the work done else where. As you drove off I turned to one of my senior mechanics and said that maybe it was the fact that my hair color and highlights were not to your liking. I later consoled myself with the fact that you didn’t like the color of my nail polish or lip stick either.

 Although your behaviors clearly substantiate a stereotypical label for you, I’ve decided not to do so. Education has taught me that mankind’s nature is to capture, retain and control. I’ll accept our encounters as an opportunity to right this wrong and break these cycles. So I won’t label you but instead I’ll simply consider you as someone I haven’t gotten to know well, yet.