Me: Did you know that race doesn’t exist?
Bush: NASCAR doesn’t exist?
Me: No. Well, yeah, NASCAR exists, but I mean races of people.
Bush: I don’t understand. I thought you were Mexican.
Me: No.
Bush: But we’re at a Mexican restaurant.
Me: True, but so are you and you’re not Mexican.
Bush: Hell, I never thought of it that way. You got me there. Huh, we’re eating Mexican and neither one of us is Mexican. That’s just weird.
Me: To you, undoubtedly. But you know, even if I was Mexican the word doesn’t describe a race. There are no words that describe races of people because there aren’t races of people. All human beings are the same species, the same “race.” “Mexican” is a description of nationality and, to an extent, culture. Being a Mexican-American just means that a person used to be a citizen of Mexico but is now a U.S. citizen or that person’s parents, grandparents, or great-grandparents, et cetera, had been citizens of Mexico.
Bush: You’re talking gibberish, right? Some type of pig Latin or something, cause not a word out of your mouth made sense to me.
Me: Part of that might be because we’ve been inundated with the ideas that there are races of people. It’s like believing in leprechauns or that a virgin was impregnated by God.
Bush: I might have seen a leprechaun when I was doing blow or getting’ my drink on, but since I’ve been dry that doesn’t happen no more. And that thing about the virgin, that’s just crazy.
Me: I thought you were Christian?
Bush: Yup, sure as spitfire.
Me: But you don’t believe that Mary was impregnated by God and gave birth to Jesus?
Bush: Heh heh, I don’t know what Bible you were reading, but I ain’t come across anything batshit like that. Heh, pretty good story, though. They should make a movie. I’d watch it. Good entertainment.
Me: You know what, never mind. I was just trying to point out that believing in race is something that was spread generations ago and it’s still around even though the concept has mutated a bit.
Bush: There are mutants, too? They like mongoloids? Mole people?
Me: Maybe I can describe it in a different way. Race is an idea that has nothing to do with reality.
Bush: What about African-Americans, though. Ain’t them a race?
Me: No, the term just describes the continent where the ancestors of some Americans used to live before they were enslaved and forced to come to America. There are some African-Americans who chose to come to the United States freely much later, though, and still do today.
Bush: I can’t tell if you’re making things up or not. I mean, I can barely follow what you’re sayin’ and now I’m wonderin’ what’s the difference between African-Americans and black people?
Me: It’s complicated. African-American is a political designation whereas calling a person “black” is a reference to that person’s skin color. The term is sometimes considered offensive, but that’s a really complicated issue that’s fraught with danger. It’s one of the reasons most people don’t like to talk about race. Even folks with good intentions can say the wrong thing at the wrong time in the wrong setting and it can cause a shit-storm.
Bush: I know all about shit-storms. Hell, I was in a shit-storm for eight years as president.
Me: I remember.
Bush: Now, from what you’re saying, I could get in trouble talking about race even though you’re sayin’ there ain’t no such thing as race?
Me: That’s right.
Bush: Damn, that’s scary. But you know, I was thinking about calling people black because of their skin color, but not all black people have black skin.
Me: Um, well, I would phrase that differently, but I understand what you’re trying to say.
Bush: So why do they call people without black skin “black people”?
Me: That’s way too complicated and I have no idea how to explain the issue to you.
Bush: Well, it just seems wrong.
Me: Yes, it’s a serious ethical issue.
Bush: I don’t know nothin’ about that. I just think it’s wrong to call someone black if they have brown skin. Just makes things confusing. Like, there’s this one woman I met, people told me she was black, but when I met her I noticed her skin was brown with some sort of yellow mixed in. I like that skin color, brownish yellow. I find it very appealing. I also like smooth skin, buttery. Just feels good to touch it.
Me: Okay. That’s your issue.
Bush: True enough. The thing is, though, if what you’re saying is true about race and nationality, then German-Americans are just Americans who came from Germany. I thought they were part of that Aryan race thing, the whole World War II thing. The Nazis, you know, the Nazis. Not as bad as people think. My granpapi, Prescott, he did some business with them before the war. Good business for him. Made some money. Can’t be all bad if they make money.
Me: Look, the whole Nazi thing is part of the problem, especially when it comes to race, okay? But I don’t want to get into that. The point is that “German” is a nationality and implies a spectrum of subcultures, not just Nazis or the concept of an Aryan race. German-Americans are mostly Americans who had ancestors who immigrated from Germany or in what were considered Germanic lands.
Bush: Germanic lands?
Me: Germany wasn’t a country until the 1800s.
Bush: Bullshit!
Me: No, it’s true. The land that is part of the sovereign nation of Germany wasn’t always called Germany and even as “Germany” the country has gone through many political identities, from dictatorships to republics.
Bush: That doesn’t make any sense at all.
Me: Not to you, no, but it’s true.
Bush: Look, we’re gonna have to disagree to agree on this one. I’m still trying to figure out this race deal you got going. Are Asian-Americans like the African-Americans, just from another continent?
Me: Close enough, sure.
Bush: What about the Jewish-Americans and Muslim-Americans?
Me: They signify religious identification and cultural heritage as well as citizenship.
Bush: Well, then what’s all this talk about racism?
Me: Again, it’s complicated. It would be more accurate to say that there is prejudice and bigotry based on perceptions of the meanings of skin color, religion, nationality, culture, and continental origins.
Bush: I don’t understand a word you just said.
Me: You’re not alone.
Bush: I know. You’re right in front of me. When are we gonna eat? My brain’s starting to hurt.
Me: I understand. It often hurts to exercise the muscles that have been neglected most.
Bush: You’re right about that. I did a lat workout a week ago. Hadn’t been working on them for at least a year. Sore as hell the next day.
Me: If that’s the case, you may have a headache tomorrow.
Bush: That’s not unusual.
Me: I believe you.
Bush: Okay, is there anything else you needed to talk about before we eat?
Me: No, we can eat while we talk.
Bush: That’s more like it. You know, speaking of race, why aren’t I considered a Christian-American?
Me: That’s an exceptionally insightful question.
Bush: I have no idea if that’s good or bad.
Me: It’s good. The answer to your question is complex. We’d finish this meal before I even got started. The answer is historical, social, political, and economic.
Bush: It’s like you’re a teacher or somethin’. Look, I been to school. No reason to bring up history, passed that class. Got a “C.” Good enough to graduate from Yale so I think I know what’s what.
Me: Yeah, you’re damn near a genius by American standards.
Bush: I appreciate that, but let’s get back to the point. I got Jesus in my heart so why ain’t I a Christian-American?
Me: Well, you can call yourself that, no problem there. As far as a political designation, it doesn’t formally exist. It doesn’t exist in the same way that “English-speaking American” doesn’t exist as a politically-recognized identity.
Bush: Okay, that’s just wrong. I mean, there are mostly English-speaking Americans in America, but none of them are “English-speaking American”? I’m bilingual, by the way, so technically I’m an English-Spanish-speaking American. Maybe a “Spanglerican.” If that isn’t already a word, well, it should be.
Me: I don’t know what to say other than that isn’t a word and that there are no language-based identities recognized by the U.S. government.
Bush: Damn, wish I’d known all of this when I was president. Probably could have done something about this stuff.
Me: Yeah, you could have done a lot, but you didn’t.
Bush: I got caught up in that whole Iraq thing. Got distracted from other issues. I never got around to race.
Me: Actually, you caused quite a stir after Hurricane Katrina.
Bush: Oh, hell, was that what that was all about? I never understood a bit of what was going on.
Me: That was apparent to nearly everyone.
Bush: You know, it’s funny that there Obamer fella didn’t do nothing about this stuff, either. I mean, he’s what you call an African-American as far as I know. Born in Africa, moved to the United States, became president. Hell of a story. Proves anything can happen. But if this race business is as big a deal as you say, I would think an African-American would do something about it.
Me: I thought he would, too. No such luck.
Bush: Now that I think about it, he’s another one of them African-Americans who isn’t really black. He’s brown, but sort of a chalky brown.
Me: I’m not going to touch that one.
Bush: You should. His face is kind of pock-marked, too, like maybe he had acne. Black people, even them that are actually brown and ashy, get acne, too. Not a lot of people know that. Need some education on that one, too. Acne’s no joke. Knew a kid in school with acne and we made fun of him nearly every day. Killed himself before he graduated. Acne can do that, drive a person to suicide. It’s sad. I shoulda addressed that one, too, but that damn Katrina thing got me bogged down. Things happen you don’t expect. Gotta roll with punches, bob and weave, bob and weave.
Me: Fascinating. I’m not sure where you’re going with this, but okay.
Bush: Well, the thing is, people think about things and sometimes I’m people so I do it, too.
Me: Your thoughts are terrifyingly broken.
Bush: When things need fixin’, I fix ‘em. Did it in Iraq, did it in Afghanistan, did it with Putin, did it with Katrina, did it with America, did it with my wife, did it with Jesus. That’s how I do things—I do ‘em.
Me: I’m going to ignore everything you just said and drink my margarita.
Bush: Now you’re talkin’. I mean, now you’re not talkin’. I’m not sure that sayin’ works here.
Me: Just eat your enchilada.
Bush: Okay. Good talk. We should do this again some time.
Me: *sigh*
