The workers who helped put up our mailbox...and what my mom said

This is what my mom said about one of them:

“This is why I want you to go to a good college. You don’t want to end up like that Mexican up there who probably never got a good education.”

Please. I’ve known that since…a long time ago. I know this is one of those pathetic Asian parent stereotypes, but it doesn’t matter; the remark was uncalled for and ultimately racist. I know I don’t want to work on minimum wage.

Now I know we all make those stupid poor Mexican jokes, but this is my mom we’re talking about, a person who doesn’t joke around or make remarks on other people’s races.

How do we know he failed in school? We don’t. For all we know, he could be from a very low-income family who couldn’t afford to send him to college. Maybe this is his part-time job. WHO KNOWS? More importantly, WHO CARES? Just because he’s a Mexican doesn’t mean he’s a failure.

Which brings me to my next point: do we have ANY right to judge an individual from first glance? No. No. No. No. No. For all I know, my mom and I don’t know ANYTHING about that worker except for what his job is. That being said, we have no right to judge an entire race, community, nation, etc. just on the basis of one person.

My mom also noted that that soda the worker had from In-N-Out was half of his salary. Unneeded much?

This isn’t the first time my mom said such premature marks. Earlier this year, after J.D. Salinger’s (the author of Catcher In The Rye) death, she said he was absolutely crazy for not letting movie directors and producers obtain rights to the novel. She’s never even heard of the book or its author until that day.

Way to go, Mom. Way to go.