“Hey, Mercedes, how you doing? You look upset.” I had stopped by the apartment of a friend of mine who lives in West Garfield Park.
“Ha. Yeah, two whole siss’uhs in da dozen. Look like coupla choc’ate doughnuhs gots mix’ in wit’ da powduh suguhs. Don’ see no tacos, no tight eyes neiduh.”
“You’re too sensitive, Mercedes”, I chided her. “You see racism everywhere. It probably was just coincidence that 10 of the 12 women they picked were whites.”
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“Well–I don’t know about that.”
Mercedes snorted. “Uh-huh, skin-deep. Skin jes’ gots be right shade.”
“A lot, Mercedes. Here’s one who’s chief of medicine at University of Chicago Medical Center, and a board member of Physicians for Social Responsibility. That’s a group fighting against the threat of nuclear war. She’s toiling in her spare time to bring peace to the world–that’s a pretty beautiful thing, don’t you agree?”
“Fund-raise all I be doin’, too, honey,” Mercedes responded. “Be workin’ half time nursin’ home, be doin’ hair fo’ girls I knows, be dealin’ mah stamps. Funds still don’ be long ‘nuf. How dis champeen fund-raisuh be hustlin’ up da cash?”
