(502) 955-1020 145 Pine Haven Shores Road, Suite #1205, Shclburnc, VT v;:.p.m N~; reacts s P./‘tT§(_" iizfofg} VCI‘111011[pO1‘(‘.l'1.CO111 ., PHOENIX. iswo * spirited jewelry at gifts at gallery Dreams are necessary to life. -Anais Nil: 34 state streetltmonlpelier, vi 0560? 802.229. 05;: B Feminist Therapv 82 Church St., Burlington sliding fee scale Leah Wittenbergl » 4 Licensed Mental Health Counselor Psychotherapy for individuals and couptes (802)658-9590 ext.4 -ea--re-wees:--ce:-ease--<:+¢-=<:s:--e-e Clifford D. Trott, Jr., Ph.D. Licensed Clinical Psychologist — Doctorate l68 Battery Street Burlington, Vermont 05401 802.862.0836 ctrott@together.net °%-=£#=£%=«%°$°{%»°et>={$°~£%=£¢ y new acquaintance was giving me a tour of his home, making great effort to point out the pieces of furniture and artwork that he thought would interest and impress me. His good taste was evident throughout. He was charming and poised and, like his home, Curtis had a stylish appearance. As we moved from room to room, Curtis’ attention , to detail became more and more evident. He was clearly a man who was preoccupied with pre- senting a flawless appearance. Everything seemed so perfectly organized that I wondered if he really lived in the house or if it was just for show. , When the tour reached the bedroom, I noticed that the obsessive order of the rest of the house was not as strictly enforced in his sanctum sancto- rum. Dirty clothes and a tennis racquet were peeking out from under the dust rufile. Curtis sensed that my attention had shifted from him to the unruly confines under his bed. “I just shoved a few things under there so they’d be out of sight,” he explained, blushing. Our conversation was cordial. Curtis was a smooth talker, carefully avoiding any topics that might be considered controversial or had the potential to result in a difference of opin- ion. We chatted about the weath- er, baseball and classical music. The evening couldn’t have been more pleasant. Then, Curtis , made a racist remark. He laughed. I wasn’t amused. Curtis knew I had a partner but wasn’t aware that Martin was Black. He assumed that, because I was White, it would be fine for him to make a jeering, joke that denigrated Black people. I didn’t waste any time letting Curtis know I was offended. He apologized and ' scrambled to justify his original comment. “I was just talking about the kinds of things people say,” he rationalized. “I don’t really think that way myself.” Curtis wrangled the conversation back to what he figured would be harmless terri- tory. He did a riff on the wild hairstyles and outfits favored by some teenagers he‘d seen at the mall. We shared a text’ laughs recalling the kinds ofthings we'd worn. when we were in our teens‘ and early twenties. _ Fueled by the cocktail he‘d been sipping. he leaned back on the sofa and offered . §l\\\s Ou more of his hard-and-fast views - on the world. “The weird hair is bad, but that can be washed and dyed and changed fairly easily. The piercings they get are . what’s really freaky!" “Oh?” I interjected. “Absolutely. Anyone who would pierce a part of his body with a hunk of metal is a freak!” He punc- tuated his declara- tion with a confi- dent nod and a self-satisfied .smiie. I asked 7 him if he consid- ered me a freak. Curtis found that funny. He assured me that I was the far- thest thing from a freak. I held up four fingers. Curtis was per- plexed. “That’s how many pierc- ings I have below the neck,” I revealed. ‘ Curtis asked if I was including pierced ears in that count. “I don’t have any ears below my neck,” I quipped. He ' . opened his mouth, I ready to offer a retort, but no words followed the parting of his lips. There was a long pause. Curtis scanned my body from the neck down trying to figure out where the four pierc- ings were located. “Four?” he inquired. I testified to the veraci- ty of my original tally and I added, “That must make a freak four times over, by your stan- dards." Curtis struggled to save himself, after having plummeted off the precipice of prejudice. He had a list of excuses but none had the slightest ring of truth. Still, he ventured valiantly forth into the land of mea culpa. He called himselfajerk and an ass. He asked how he could prove to me that he didn’t think I was a freak but, instead, found me intriguing and arousing. “Show me the piercings.” he pleaded. “Let’s play show and tell." ‘ ' The show and tell had already happened. He’d shown me his true colors and his bare- ly—masked bigotry told-more about him than the messiness he’d tried to conceal by hiding things under his bed. Should we learn to be more skilled at keeping our prej- udices to ourselves or is there more to it than that? Our community should show the rest of society how edifying it can be to eliminate discrimination. Out of sight “Anyone who would pierce a part of his body with a hunk of metal is a freak!” Curtis , punctuated his declaration with a confident nod , ' and a self-satisfied smile. doesn’t mean. out of mind. As far as prejudice goes, out of mind is the only way to go. V ©2003 D. Scott-Bush is work appears throughout the country. E-mail may be directed to him at Na/cedCuri0sity@a0/.c0m.