2002 Called… It Doesn’t Want Your Boss, Either

My best friend is a lovely American immigrant woman who also happens to be Muslim. My boss is, well, the stereotypical white Southern bell: extremely bigoted and blind to her own prejudices because she was raised on “good manners.”

Boss: “[My Name], I wanted to use my apartment’s pool this weekend, but there were a group of Muslim women with all their children there having a birthday party. Don’t get me wrong, the kids were cute, but it has to make you wonder… where are all the men?”

Sounds like a typical birthday party, right?

Me: “Fun! It sounds like a good time.”

Boss: “Look, I know you have a Muslim friend, but I was terrified. There were no men there.”

She pauses for emphasis.

Me: “Okay…”

Boss: “They are probably upstairs planning an attack! Leaving all the women and children outside to plan to bomb us!”

Me: “No, I don’t think so. Muslim women are social beings, too—”

She cuts me off and goes on a diatribe about how all these women’s husbands are probably planning to attack America. Eventually, I manage to get her to change the subject because she clearly isn’t going to listen to me. But the next day, I get this gem.

Boss: “Hi, [My Name]. I could totally tell I was making you uncomfortable because you have that Muslim friend of yours and you probably thought that I was a racist, but I am not. I am only being practical here.”

Cue the same racist rant as the day before.

I know she doesn’t necessarily hate other ethnicities, but she has also said some pretty disgusting things about Asians and blacks, as well as homeless people and the mentally ill, in general. I would love to educate her and set her straight, but until she wants to listen with an open mind, it is useless, sadly.