More 'Emotional Support Negro'.

I awoke one morning to the sound of my Emotional Support Negro sobbing. This gave me quite a scare, as I had never seen him as anything but strong and in charge of his emotions. I asked him what was wrong, but he just wiped his eyes, sat erect, and said "Nothing's wrong."

Finally! A chance for ME to support my Emotional Support Negro: white people cry a lot, so I felt I had a lot to offer in this situation. I offered him a box of tissues, but he held up his hand.

"Don't need those, Little Bitch."

I knew he was speaking harshly to me as a defense mechanism: being white, I understand defense mechanisms, and as such I recognize that black people have them, too, even if they express them differently due to the variance in cultural upbringings.

"It's OK," I said gently, not wanting to jar his fragile state.

"I gotta take a piss," he replied, then got up and went down the hallway to do so.

While he was away I contemplated all of the myriad of emotional healing techniques that I have learned as an introspective white man, and decided that a direct approach would be appropriate, even though I'm not really good at the direct approach in general -- it is, after all, one of the reasons I have an Emotional Support Negro in the first place.

When my Emotional Support Negro returned from urinating I told him he needed to face whatever was affecting him, and it had to be done in a straightforward and timely manner, I wish I remembered the name of the book that advice was in.

"You wanna know what's bothering me?" he asked.

"Yes," I replied, "I do. Sincerely."

He kind of winced a little when I said "sincerely" but he then continued to talk.

"My brother just got a job."

"That's great!" I said, making a point to show encouragement at his emotional openness.

"Yeah. He got a job as a 'Emotional Support Negro'."

"That's wonderful!" I said, keeping up the spirit of encouragement and the freedom to speak safely.

"Yeah: he's gonna be a 'Emotional Support Negro' for a University Professor."

"That's fantastic!" I said, continuing to draw him out of the shell of his cultural upbringing.

"A black professor."

"?"

"A MAN black professor."

I did not know what to say, so I simply nodded my encouragement.

"Yeah, my brother is going to be a 'Emotional Support Negro' for a male black University professor. Of Gender Studies."

"I am sure he can be of a LOT of assistance," I said, nodding my head.

"You don't understand: white people are easy -- you just tell them what a person with a spine would do. But..."

"...But?"

"But a black brother with no spine: that's gonna be WORK."

I did not know what else to say, so I got us two Forties from the refrigerator. It is sometimes emotionally OK to drink together, quietly.

I am Laslo.


http://althouse.blogspot.com/2014/11/my-vassar-college-faculty-id-affords-me.html