Some years ago I was having lunch with my nana at a conveyor belt sushi restaurant. It’s important to know for the sake of this story that my nana is a little old Mexican lady who nevertheless mistrusts everyone except white people. We were having a nice time, chatting and eating.
Then midway through the meal she leaned in close and said, “Sometimes… do you think they reuse the rice to make rolls?”
I turned to her in surprise and said, “No, why would you think that?”
“Well,” she said, “You know… those people never like to waste anything.”
We stared at each other across the yawning chasm of her previous statement and finally I managed, “Nana, that’s racist.”
“Yes. It is. Not all Asian people behave the same, and assuming they do is racist. Just like not all Mexican people are the same.”
She looked down at her meal, nonplussed, and I realized that her actual fear of spoiled food hadn’t been addressed.
I sighed and added, “You know, restaurants all get inspected by health inspectors and have to maintain certain codes. And the health inspector is probably also racist, which means non white businesses have to be even more careful. So the rice will always be fresh.”
She brightened immediately. “That’s true!” She ate another roll, secure in the knowledge that racism would keep her food safe.
Then she said, “I could be a health inspector!” and I nearly choked.