As the exceptionally small handful of people that actually read this blog might know, I work at a Library. Well the other day, some little kid comes up to me and asks me if I can help her find some sort of rap music stuff. I was a bit stumped (seeing as I am an early twenties, white, middle class fellow that lives in the midwest, in a town of 6000, and works in a Library) but I told her I’d try to figure it out for her. I pulled up the Google and as I did I made a comment about me not knowing very much about rap music (because, once again, I’m an early twenties, white, middle class fellow that lives in the midwest, in a town of 6000, and works in a Library) to which she seemed a bit shocked. “Oh,” she said. “That lady over there said you knew alot about rap.” My eyes followed her finger to one of my fellow librarians, whom we’ll call ‘Jennifer’. Jennifer is a middle aged, white, upper middle class woman that lives in a town of 6000, and works in a Library. “I see.” I said. I help the girl the best I could (which wasn’t much) and then went to speak to Jennifer about the incident. “Did you tell some little kid I know alot about rap music?” I asked. “I hate rap.” Jennifer said. “But why would you assume that I like it?” “You seem like that type.” She replied. “I’m an early twenties, white, middle class fellow that lives in the midwest, in a town of 6000, and works in a Library…” I said. “Oh.” So I guess all this time I thought people didn’t talk to me because I was a fat, washed up loser, it was actually that they fear me because I look like a gangsta. And damn it feels good to be a gangsta.
