Freedom of Expression

So I arrive to have my test proctored and I get to the desk in the back of the library where there’s this plump black woman with braided hair in a bun and a bright smile on her face. When she pulls out my test and looks through the paperwork, her eyes light up and she says, “You’re taking Spanish?” “Yes,” I answer (but maybe I should’ve said “”), and she spews off a mouthful in español. I flash a nervous grin and admit, “I’m not quite there yet, but maybe if you talk slowly.” I chuckle, and changing the subject she asks, “What do you plan to do with Spanish?” Here I’m faced with a dilemma: honesty or ease? She seems friendly enough, so I opt for honesty, saying, “My boyfriend’s from Spain.” She gets this funny look on her face as she stands up, pointing to the other side of the room. “See that man sitting over there? His boyfriend’s from the same place as my husband, El Salvador. Seems to me like you guys are steeling up our foreign men.”

And what else can I do but laugh and say I agree?


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