Geography Is Extra Hard When You’re Racist

My dad’s family is from a very popular US territory island. I’m working at a location in a very small town.

Coworker: “So, you mentioned once that you’re half Spanish on your dad’s side. Right?”

Me: “Yep.”

I get this a lot. I’m probably the only person of that ethnicity in the area.

Coworker: “So, remind me, where was your dad born?”

Me: “[Large City].”

Coworker: “Huh?”

Me: *Slightly louder* “[Large City].”

Coworker: “No, no. Where’s he from?”

I know what she’s getting at, but I play dumb.

Me: *Much louder* “[Large City].”

Coworker: “You mean… he was born in the US? He’s a citizen and everything?”

Me: “Yes and yes. I mean, even if he was born on the island, he’d still be a citizen, since it’s part of the US.”

Coworker: “No, it isn’t.”

Me: “Yes, it is. It’s a US territory, and has been for over 100 years.”

Coworker: “I went to [Territory] and I had to show my passport. It’s not part of the US.”

Me: “I think I know my own family history. Are you sure that’s where you went?”

Coworker: “Yes! I think so. Or maybe not. Maybe it was the Dominican Republic or the Bahamas…”

She wandered off. I texted my parents the story. My dad joked that she was trying to get me deported. Obviously, I don’t work there anymore.