The Gods must be crazy (Part II)

So... Of course, as you probably guessed, I couldn't leave it alone. I couldn't just see my ex, outside my office on April fool's day. I'm a pusher - I wanted to know - what was he doing there, does he live in London? Is he really engaged? what is he doing with his life? But more importantly, I wanted a chance to stop him and say "hey, I'M NOT RACIST!", and if you could add brackets in spoken conversation, I'd continue with "there are hundreds of little Madeline McCanns that go missing all over the world - but they are NOT daughters of doctors, not the product of upper-middle-class wealth, and NOT white, so no one looks for them. That's the fact. I'M NOT RACIST for saying so and of course my heart was still breaking for her family. Still breaking for her family.

That's what I'm worried about. I'm worried that he's in the world, thinking that I'm the worst person he knows. I don't love him, don't want to be with him, hardly ever think of him, but I don't want him to hate me.

I had to do it. I googled him. I wanted a clue. I wanted to know why he'd be outside my office. And I'm so glad I did. The Gods aren't laughing at me, they are teaching me. The first page of googled results were filled with commentaries and articles, all written by this ex, each one, a complaint of some sort - "Why praise Hugo Chavez?" " I'd like to express my growing impatience with..." "I am mortified that you would print ..." and for the most part... he was complaining about race/racial issues. To one newspaper he wrote:

Sir, I inquired about summer work experience with.... Its website says that it does not “offer any work experience or internships other than those listed”. Three work experience programmes were listed: the first asked for economics students only; the second asked for “high achievers from Black and Asian communities”; and the third for applicants from “ethnic minorities” or “graduates with a disability”.

At what point does disqualification due to the colour of one’s skin become discrimination?

I finally understood. The world is bigger than me, the Gods are not picking on me. This is his thing, his issue. He treated me, as he treats everyone. I'm not the worst, I'm just a chorus-girl singing in the choir of his enemies. My poor ex, fighting institutional and legal discrimination that provides for minorities... (HMM wonder why they call them minorities?!) I guess, this is how this story ends, you could paint your house, wife, children and accessories all black, but still never understand what it means to be born on an unlevel playing field. I think I understand. So call me racist.