I’m adopted and dark-skinned while the rest of my family is entirely composed of white people, both from my mom’s and my dad’s side.

I’m twenty-four and my little sister is fifteen. We go to the supermarket together to buy some stuff for home. Whenever we walk together, we’re often met with stares. Maybe people think that we’re dating or something, I don’t know.

We wait in line ahead of a lady who keeps complaining about the weather, and then we go inside the store. As we’re grabbing spices, we can’t find what my mom wants. My sister wants to buy the same spice but from another brand, while I want to call Mom and see if she wanted it or not. So, we catch ourselves in a small argument, going back and forth about what should we do.

My sister says something about me being “pathetic and indecisive” and makes some motions as if to shoo me away. And then, the lady from the line decides to jump in.

Lady: “Stop! Get away from this young lady and don’t harass her!”

Me: “Um, what? Can I help you, ma’am?”

Lady: “I saw you trying to harass this girl! Ever since the line, I knew you were up to something!”

Sister: “Lady, this guy’s my brother. He’s not harassing me or anything—”

Lady: “Don’t worry, sweetie. I won’t let this guy steal from you or sexually harass you. We both know guys like him always do that sort of stuff.”

And she starts pulling the “racial card” on me. As much as I could get offended, losing my time with this lady is not optimal.

Me: “Ma’am, this girl is my younger sister. We came here together.”

Lady: “Don’t you dare try to lie your way out of this! You’re not siblings; that’s impossible!”

Sister: “Lady, he’s my brother! Who are you to say who he is or isn’t to me?!”

Me: “Please mind your own business and leave us alone. I didn’t do anything.”

Lady: “Hmph. We’ll see about that.”

She leaves in a hurry and we think it’s over. I start to call Mom to talk about the spices. Then, this lady comes back with a manager.

Lady: “There he is! He’s harassing that young lady and forcing her to call him her brother.”

Manager: “Young lady, is this true?”

Sister: “No! He’s literally my brother! We came here to buy some stuff and this lady’s harassing us!”

Lady: “That’s a lie! You’re too different to be siblings. I don’t believe in this garbage.”

Manager: “Sir, I’ll have to ask you to leave if you keep harassing this young lady.”

Me: “Well, I’d gladly do it, sir. But I can prove we’re siblings.”

Lady: “He’s bluffing! He can’t do that at all.”

Me: “Then please check out our IDs and you’ll see if I really am.”

We both give our IDs to the manager who starts to check out our names and the other information, such as our affiliation to our parents. The lady also tries to check along with the manager.

Manager: “After checking them, your surnames and affiliation are the same. I’m sorry for the disturbance we’ve caused.”

Me: “It’s nothing, sir. If anything, that woman is at fault for causing this scene.”

Lady: “I— I just made a tiny mistake. No hard feelings to be held.”

Sister: “Well, aside from the fact that you’re a racist old hag that doesn’t have anything better to do, sure.”

Lady: “What?! And here I thought you were a lady, you little ungrateful—”

Me: “Lady, turn away and don’t finish that sentence unless you wish to be sued in court for racism.”

Lady: “Fine! I was done here, anyway.”

And then she left in a hurry. The manager apologized again and then left, too.

I’m a Brit on a bus in France with my Bulgarian friend and my French friend. We’re going to a French convention and the French friend has kindly offered us her abode. Going by accent, there’s a very loud American couple making derogatory comments about the passengers and generally about France in English, clearly thinking we can’t understand them.

My Bulgarian speaks loudly to my French friend in English.

Bulgarian Friend: “I think it’s very interesting that my school in Bulgaria had me learn English. Do they do the same in France?”

My French friend replies just as loudly, also in English.

French Friend: “Oh, yes. In fact, in Paris, you’ll be hard-pressed to find someone who doesn’t understand English at least a little. Hey, [My Name], what about you?”

Me: “Being from England, it means it’s pretty much all I can speak. Although I can tell you where I live in French if you want?”

French Friend: “Please don’t butcher my beautiful language.”

Random German Man: “We also learnt English in Germany!”

Random American Lady At The Back: “I’m from Louisiana! So we have English and… a different French.”

The couple was strangely quiet for the rest of the journey.

I was leaving a doctor’s appointment and my ride arrived, so I stood up and propped myself on the outside of the seat while I was getting ready to fold my wheelchair. A woman ran up and tried to wheel it away — great brakes on my chair — and I had to struggle with her while my driver got out and came to help me.

Woman: *Whining* “But I need this chair for my mom! She’s aged! And this chair is so much nicer and cleaner than the other chairs around here!”

We had to get the guard involved. I could understand if it was a generic wheelchair in basic aluminum, but I guess she didn’t understand that the hospital didn’t have royal purple wheelchairs with cup holders, cane holders, and a chair bag.

When I am around seven years old, my family goes to a popular theme park for my sister’s tenth birthday. Since it is summertime, it is boiling hot; that’s California for you. We go to the log rides to cool ourselves off and a stranger cuts in front of us in line.

Dad: “Hey, what are you doing? We’ve been waiting in line for twenty minutes!”

Stranger: “I’m going to overheat! I deserve this spot more than you!”

Mom: “Ma’am, you can wait in line like everybody else. Just because you’re hot, it doesn’t mean you get to cut in front of everybody.”

A kind worker comes over.

Worker: “What is going on?”

Mom: “This woman cut u—”

Stranger: *Cutting her off* “THEY CUT ME!”

Dad: “Ma’am, I’m pretty sure you did.”

Stranger: “HE’S LYING! I GOT THIS SPOT FAIR AND SQUARE!”

Worker: “I’ll go check the surveillance.”

He comes back and looks at the EP.

Worker: “Miss, according to the surveillance, you cut them out of nowhere. I’m going to have to ask you to go to the back or leave.”

Stranger: “What?! That’s not fair!”

Worker: “If you’re not going to go to the back of the line, I’ll have to call security to ban you. You’re being a bother to everybody else.”

The woman scoffs, rolling her eyes as she leaves. But she doesn’t leave in silence.

Stranger: “YOU ALL DESERVE TO BURN IN H***!”

Then, she left the line and the place entirely; we didn’t see her anywhere else in the park.

Halfway through my grocery shopping, I get to the spice aisle and find that the jar of cinnamon I need is pushed back on a high shelf out of my reach.

I turn to the closest man, easily a foot taller than me.

Me: “Excuse me, could you help me—”

Man: “I don’t work here.”

Me: “Oh, I know. I’m just hoping for some help—”

Man: “I don’t work here.”

Me: “I know. I just can’t—”

The man turns away from me, so I ask loudly:

Me: “Can you reach this cinnamon for me?!”

He turns and sees my issue and hangs his head.

Man: “Sorry.”

He easily snags a jar of cinnamon and hands it to me.

Me: “Thanks, man.”

I really was thankful, but he just slunk off.