![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
cimoreneOn vacay my cousin Amanda took us to a favorite gift shop, the Kansas City Area ten thousand villages, a non-profit volunteer-staffed store selling fair trade objets d'art from third world countries. A lot of it was much like what you'd find at the Riverkids Shop (they even had the same recycled Vietnamese fishfood bags, of which I already own one), but the store's bigger - a wall of scarves and bags, two color-grouped walls of jewelry, and a big showroom full of everything from musical instruments and umbrellas of recycled aluminum cans to big carved wood and steel drum sculptures. I'd quite like to have one nearby.
The staff was of middle-aged church fete ladies in stiff halos of hair straight out of one of those space-helmet salons, dowdy matchy-match pantsuits and fair trade accessories, as if the Women's Group of an aging Unitarian Universalist congregation were meeting behind the counter (not unlikely, in fact). The whole time we were shopping, the gentle hum of their debate over sparkly third-world Christmas ornaments for display burbled along behind us.
One lady in particular, however, kept breaking in with the others to ask them, "Is this ethnic?" "So do you think this one is ethnic?" "Is it ethnic, do you think?"
I'm not sure precisely what it was that gave me such a strong feeling of revulsion - some variant of Nice White Lady syndrome perhaps? - aside from the build-up of lip-biting that nearly resulted in my telling her, "EVERYTHING IS ETHNIC IN YOUR EXOTICISING, 'ETHNIC' SHOP, YOU PRETENTIOUS YUPPIE." Because, I mean, I'm glad the Nice White Ladies are volunteering there and would happily shop the fuck out of that store. But still. Can't they have a consciousness-raising or something?
The staff was of middle-aged church fete ladies in stiff halos of hair straight out of one of those space-helmet salons, dowdy matchy-match pantsuits and fair trade accessories, as if the Women's Group of an aging Unitarian Universalist congregation were meeting behind the counter (not unlikely, in fact). The whole time we were shopping, the gentle hum of their debate over sparkly third-world Christmas ornaments for display burbled along behind us.
One lady in particular, however, kept breaking in with the others to ask them, "Is this ethnic?" "So do you think this one is ethnic?" "Is it ethnic, do you think?"
I'm not sure precisely what it was that gave me such a strong feeling of revulsion - some variant of Nice White Lady syndrome perhaps? - aside from the build-up of lip-biting that nearly resulted in my telling her, "EVERYTHING IS ETHNIC IN YOUR EXOTICISING, 'ETHNIC' SHOP, YOU PRETENTIOUS YUPPIE." Because, I mean, I'm glad the Nice White Ladies are volunteering there and would happily shop the fuck out of that store. But still. Can't they have a consciousness-raising or something?
