Public letter to an anonymous person from the past

I was having one of those moments where I randomly flash back to what I was doing before I got pregnant, and there’s a certain incident that continues to come back to haunt me occasionally. I don’t have very thick skin at all, so this event still irritates me if I think about it too much. I figured I might as well publicly address this person on the Internet, and I hope that letting it out into the open makes me feel better (since I always feel better about an event after blogging about it).

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Dear amusement park guest,

I was working at _____ in May 2007, which is when we had our little incident. Your son was too short to ride, and I made sure I explained this to you and your family very well. I even stood him on the metal height measurer-thingy to show you that he was several inches under the minimum height requirement.

You understood, so your husband took your son down through the exit and waited there while the rest of your family was about to ride. You were sitting near the entrance to the ride, and you saw me let a girl on to the ride that was just tall enough to ride (and I really mean just — the top of her head was perfectly parallel to the minimum height line).

When you saw her get on, you angrily said something to the extent of “Oh no!”/”No way!” and immediately got off the ride. You thought the girl was the same height as your son, and you couldn’t believe that I had let her on the ride.

But then you started saying things that have still bothered me to this day. While you ranted your way to the exit, you made it clear that it was a race issue — your family was Black, this family with the little girl was White. In your mind, it was obvious that I had let the girl ride simply because she was White.

I walked down to the exit after you and calmly explained that there was a definite height difference between your son and this girl. I even offered to remeasure both children so you could see it with your own eyes.

You wouldn’t have any of it, though. You wouldn’t stop bitching long enough to hear me out. You ruined my experience at that amusement park, and I’m sure you allowed your day to be ruined by that incident as well.

I wasn’t being a racist; I was doing my job. The fact that you immediately pulled the race card and refused to see the situation as it really was is something that still bothers me to this day.

I am not racist.

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Whew. That felt good.