Someone slides a . “Take your cell phone to have one of these moritos fix it,” or “Apparently they were gypsies,” or “That park is full of little boys.” Something light: diminutives, caricatures, nothing serious. It is a friendly evening, of people who consider themselves ironic and intelligent, capable of handling stereotypes with the same finesse with which they dip carrot sticks in hummus. I, hostess, who have worked hard to make sure everything went well—wine, dessert, small bowls of nuts, burned hand on the oven door, and a jovial emoticon for every “I’m late / Sorry” message—am ready. of choking. Everything was going well, we seemed like good people. This lightness has just hinted at an air of supremacism among us. To do? I choose to be discreet, ignore the comment and move on. Any option rather than confront; I don’t want to spoil the evening, with what it took to get together, put out the napkin rings and the crackers. I will criticize that person another day: I will complain bitterly about how bad that was, I will demonstrate to third parties how progressive I am and my ability to analyze the situation. Award for the best hostess.
The gender mandate regarding the skill of entertaining guests seems somewhat outdated, like a textbook for the housewife of decades ago. It’s easy to imagine a traditional Christmas dinner where the cook pleads, often unsuccessfully, not to talk about politics at the table. And yet these disagreements do not only occur between cousins and brothers-in-law—we already know that brother in law It not only designates the partner of a brother or sister; In its second meaning, not yet included by the RAE, it is a banal and condescending person with whom you are forced to agree. The most violent surprise can also break out among presumed like-minded people, on a Wednesday night, wine in hand and playlist exquisite background. captured a disagreement of this type in his text Tributepublished in Spain in the anthology Look straight ahead and dedicated to the writer Rhoda Munk – a pseudonym, perhaps for the activist Dorothy Dinnerstein -: Gornick was preparing to serve the roast chicken for his friends when Rhoda stood before another guest who did not listen to her or barely allow her to speak. The guests were stunned by the gesture. “The horrible feeling that the world as I knew it was shattering.” […] If Rhoda couldn’t say what she wanted at dinner, she would have to leave the table. If he couldn’t get up from the table, he would have to knock it down.” Gornick, as host, understands the magnitude of the event: the end of progressive women’s submission to progressive men. The revelation of “the little crimes against the soul that are committed at the average dinner.”
Years ago we understood that he can tear a beautiful napkin holder into pieces. I once assured Mayoko Ortega, an anti-racist thinker and researcher, that “next time” I would know how to respond to a hateful comment. She was skeptical: will that right moment come? I have read articles and books on anti-racism—some in the book club that Mayoko herself coordinates with Basha Changue, La casita—, and I have shared the stories suitable to show how aware I am. And yet Mayoko is right: it is never a good time for those who prioritize looking good. Regina Jackson and Saira Rao, authors of the book, know this; White hostesses are paralyzed by the demand for good tone, and dinners are a heritage landscape of femininity that is intended to be skillful, integrated, full. Jackson and Rao have undertaken an initiative titled in which they offer an honest conversation about racism. They go wherever a white hostess is willing to coordinate the attendees, take charge of the menu, and respect the rules of the experience. The total price is between 2,500 and 5,000 dollars and the duration is two hours, time adjusted to the intensity of the proposal; If someone has the need to cry, given the questions and reflections that are asked there, they should go to another room until they have calmed down. This rule is designed based on the deep knowledge that anti-racism has of the famous “white tears” that white women often use to channel our frustration when we feel accused of being racist or complicit. The documentary shows the development of one of these dinners. Karen It is a name that has come to symbolize the white and authoritarian woman who hides behind protocols of good tone. At this dinner people talk about racism, they listen, they remain silent; He also seethes with anger. And in the end you survive. The world is not ending by putting racism on the table.
The archetype of the dinner as a space for whiteness and the most hypocritical traditional femininity was already present in series like desperate women: In an episode from 2006, the rigid Bree van de Kamp was suspicious of her neighbor, a perfect hostess who boasted of her organizational skills to prepare delicious dishes for her guests on her own. When the FBI bursts in at lunch and reveals that there is an enslaved Chinese woman in the kitchen—who would later become a recurring supporting character in the series, Xiao Mei—Bree finishes her plate of pudding of plums with a gesture of satisfaction. The important thing was to compete for the status of perfect hostess, and she had finally discovered her rival’s trick. The recent movie The hate club by director Beth de Araujo it outlines, in an even more incisive way, the burden behind the gentle manners of a social convention. A group of women come together to snack on homemade pastries and form a group with fascist ideology, without giving up traditional feminine values - the original title of the film is Soft & Quiet—. Excited by how well everything is organized, they dare, giggling, to trace a swastika with the snack knife on the cake icing.
The writer told months ago in an article titled Fucking panchita that, during a happy evening among feminists, a woman rebuked her for opposing her. The people around demanded that the insulter apologize if she wanted to stay there; She asked for forgiveness and a hug. Wiener accepted the apology but not the hug, to the dismay of the woman, who left there wounded in her pride and denying that she was racist despite having uttered the insult that gave the title to the subsequent article. As Robin diAngelo says in white fragilitya book that Rao and Jackson recommend reading before attending one of their honest dinners: “White progressives do, in fact, maintain and perpetuate racism, but our defensiveness and certainties make it virtually impossible for anyone to try to explain it to us.” . DiAngelo observes that progressive people spend their energy primarily showing, rather than doing.
In that sense, of course, the scene that Wiener described is an example of good practice on the part of those who were around. It took a great dose of collective energy—and the firmness of Gabriela Wiener herself—to face the fierce self-defense of someone who had been singled out. It took Vivian Gornick to accept that her guest was right to stand up to the abusive manners of another cheerful diner. And it is necessary that I, as a hostess, stop considering the exquisite playlist background than the words that are handled like little pâté spreading knives. I promise, as if a promise would stand on its own, that next time, as I put down the trivet, I will be able to say, “That’s a racist comment.”
