On Holidays and Baguettes…

Summer has gone by quickly, the leaves are turning, and I’m giving thought to the upcoming holiday season. Almost time to go into the attic and drag down the decorations, cook the traditional foods, let someone know you care… Yes, before we know it, it’ll be Black History Month (BHM) again and, I confess, I’m not at all prepared.

This probably has something to do with the fact that I’m, well, White. So, imagine my dismay when, last year, I began to receive office emails from the “Department Employees of Color Committee” announcing the BHM noon-time potluck and inviting the whole office to participate. The menu? Soul food.

Oh man. I don’t really cook much anyway, but the things that I do cook involve pizza and sometimes, when I’m feeling really crazy, burritos. The unifying factor is, of course, olives. I cook dorky White-girl food and the last thing I wanted to do was prepare something I guessed was “soul food.” I mean, way too much danger of food stereotyping.

I engaged myself in a debate about my participation. If I don’t go, what would people think? Is it offensive not to participate in BHM potlucks? Then, if I did go, how on earth would I ever come up with a politically correct contribution? In undergraduate women’s studies classes, I learned that associating certain foods with African-Americans is racist.

Or worse, would people think I was some sort of food opportunist who doesn’t give a fig about BHM but just wants to score a free lunch?

I’d pretty much decided to opt out, the pressure too intense and the chance for BHM blunders too high. However, a few days later, a Caseworker of Color handed me the sign up sheet. “What are you going to bring?” she asked expectantly. I tried to get out of it, sighting my poor cooking ability, but she said, “Oh, just bring something easy.”

I looked at the list. Sweet potato pies, collard greens, beans and rices…But then I found a category I could live with: Bread. I wrote (in my typical descriptive way) “tasty baguette” and trotted the list to other co-workers. One of them (who happens to be Black) looked at the list and said, “Tasty baguette? What’s that?” (she speaks in italics) The women of color surrounding her chortled.

I stuttered, “Uh, you know, bread…” One of them said, “Hey, yeah, just make sure it’s brown bread…” More laughter at my expense.

I bought the bread; a freshly baked (brown) 5 grain and some Toby’s Spread (It’s tofu based, OK? Deal with it) and arrived back at my office right at potluck time. I intended to go in, I really did, but walked right on by the densely packed masticating crowd of multicultural participants; directly to my cubicle and sat down limply.

I chickened out. The cultural and culinary pressures paralyzed me. In addition to being a White girl, I am, apparently, a ninny. I opened up the spread, found my butter knife, unwrapped my paper bag and proceeded to eat my tofu-laced bread of color.

Maybe I’ll just stay home this year…You know, a nice quiet BHM without all the hoopla and commercialism...