You'll Never Believe What Happened to Lacey

by Amber Ruffin

  Our parents had five perfect kids and great lives. They’re fine. The two of them are probably giggling right now over a drawing one of their grandchildren made for them. But have you ever heard of such movie shit in your whole life? Every few years I remember that story and am blown to pieces.

  I never tell white people that story because they can’t frigging stand hearing it. Honestly, they look like they’re in pain as they’re listening to me tell it and are annoyed that they have to carry this information around with them. I have never been able to understand why white people have such a low tolerance for hearing about racism. I mean, we have to live it! The least you could do is nod your head. The previous and the following are just two of the many reasons why Black people don’t want to talk about race with you.

  One time I was talking about some racist something or other with a bunch of improvisers and this guy gets up from his chair and screams, I mean screams out of nowhere, “Irish people had it worse than Black people! We weren’t given jobs and were arrested all the time! You don’t hear us complaining about it!” A grown man shouted that at me not too long ago.

  This grown man’s friend is the guy who has a very specific kind of racist tic. Okay, so sometimes there’s this thing where white people have lost an argument about a Black issue and you, just by being Black, become a place where they can relive that argument, and this time say all the things they didn’t say before and win. They can win this argument and this time no one will call them racist or shortsighted. If you’re Black and this doesn’t sound familiar to you, consider the number of times your white friend has tried to get you to say you like the Beastie Boys. I mean, that alone is elevendy-million.

  So this guy loves to calmly start conversations with me about Black stuff and gets mad when I don’t say what he wants me to say. It’s little but I see it. It’s hilarious and I love it. He’s never very mad; he’s always just, like, visibly frustrated. It’s all “Can you believe this celebrity said this racist thing?” type of stuff, always wanting me to be like, “It’s okay to say racist things.” And, of course, I never do. It’s fun.

  Another thing he does is, like, use me to kind of yell at all Black people. You know? He’ll say things to me that he wishes he could yell to all Black people. Let me see if I can get you to understand it. One day he’s talking to me about being a college student and he talks about how hard it was and I empathize and say something about how hard it is to not have a lot of money and be living on ramen and good times. He whips around to me and is instantly mad. He kind of yells at me but in a hushed tone so no one can hear it, “I didn’t have a lot of money at all in college but I wasn’t poor. I budgeted smart. Just because you don’t have a lot of money doesn’t mean you have to be poor. Poor people just don’t know how to make a budget and stick with it.” And I can’t describe it to you, but the way he said that to me was just—you know, he was working through some stuff. People love to get mad at poor Black people when they eat out, go to Chuck E. Cheese, or drive a car. It’s truly the gateway racist talking point. It comes right after “Black people just love me” and “Oh no! Black people have started moving into my neighborhood!” And he knows you can’t “budget yourself” into upper-lower class. If you could, he wouldn’t have said it quietly, so that only I could hear it. He would have said it in a normal voice. So this guy likes to get little jabs in here and there. He uses me to work through his racist thoughts and feelings. It’s nuts.

  Oh! I know what it’s like! It’s like when a guy is sexually harassing you and he’ll whisper disgusting things to you so no one hears. And as soon as someone else walks in the room, he’ll act normal as if he wasn’t whispering to you about his gross weiner. It’s a mess. Men are a mess.

  I say all this to tell you that one day this guy is talking to me about I forget what, and he asks me for my honest opinion and I give it to him and it hurts his feelings. It hurts his feelings worse than I intended. Later that day, I end up talking about that story about my parents and the day-care center and later he pulls me aside and, in that same uber-frustrated whisper-yell, he goes, “That story about your parents? I think they were idiots to let that happen to them.” He starts laughing and walks away.

  See, Lacey? I know some comic book villains, too!

  What are you even bragging about?

  Yeah. I don’t know.

  Here’s a List of Head-Scratchers

  In the break room one day, Lacey’s sitting with two white female coworkers. They’re talking about how crazy their weekends were. One lady really winds it up like she’s about to tell the scariest story in the world.

  “I’m on this elevator, right? All by myself. And these two big Black men get on. The door closes and it’s just me and these two big Black men.”

  She stops telling her story. Lacey goes, “Well? What happened?” The girl says, “That’s it. That’s the end of the story.” Her big story was “I ONCE WAS OUTNUMBERED ON AN ELEVATOR.” For all we know, she could’ve been in there with my dad and brother, her only danger overhearing a discussion about whether Magneto is the strongest supervillain.

  Please just say he is. Do not get Dad started.

  Another time, Lacey went to her gas station. The same one she always went to. No one was ever mean to her there. She had honestly never given these people an extra thought in her whole life. Just normal Omaha-nice, happy-seeming people. Now, I don’t know if you remember this story, but this was the day after a Black man named Charles Ramsey helped rescue three white women who were being held captive in a house. It was all over the news. America was so happy to have found those women and so proud of Mr. Ramsey. When Lacey went inside to pay, the gas station attendant was unusually excited to see her. He said to her, “Did you hear the story about the man that rescued those girls yesterday? See, Black people can do good things, too!”

  He said, “See?” as if I was the one who didn’t think Black people could do good things even though I am one and some made me. Did he think I had low self-esteem and Charles Ramsey could give me the courage I need to believe in myself? What exactly was that? You know what, this book is gonna leave some people with more questions than answers.

  But there really is only one answer:

  Racism.

  Racism.

  Council Bluffs MAD DADS.

  Everyone remembers MADD, Mothers Against Drunk Driving. Well, years ago, North Omaha had something called MAD DADS. It’s our local chapter of an organization made up of dads who were so concerned that they took to the streets to make sure young kids in North Omaha were staying out of trouble. They were a group of Black, tough-talking dads whose television appearances made you feel happy. Like a big group of dad best friends who got together weekly to care about their community and show little Black kids that someone was there for them. I forget what that stands for exactly…aaaand a quick Google search has revealed their acronym: Men Against Destruction-Defending Against Drugs and Social-Disorder.

  Lacey was driving in Council Bluffs, Iowa, with her two little friends. Council Bluffs lies just over the river but is truly, in every other sense, miles away. Now, I know I’m from a place that makes people say, “They don’t have Black people there,” but in Council Bluffs, Iowa, they really don’t have Black people there. So everyone loves to tell you how if you go into Council Bluffs, you have to be careful. It’s 11:00 p.m. in the middle of winter. It is well below freezing. As these three Black teenage girls are driving home, the car shuts down and then rolls to a stop. Terrified, they try the car again. It goes forward a few feet and stops again. The engine won’t even turn over at this point.

  They’re going to have to get out and walk. In no way are they dressed to do that. They check their surroundings. In front of them is nothing and no one. Behind them is nothing and, really far away, there’s a van parked on the street. Next to them is an old building. To their right is a closed restaurant. There is no place to walk to to get help. There are no cell phones to use to call for help. It won’t
be long before the car becomes too cold to stand.

  They get out and put the hood up—universal sign for distress, right? Their only hope is for a car to drive by and take pity on them. Maybe they could flag them down and the driver would stop and save them. Few things about this:

  What are the odds someone is going to stop for three Black teenagers? SLIM.

  Nothing says that a crazy person won’t stop for them, pick them up, and eat them.

  Dicey as it is, it’s really the only option.

  As they sit in the car, remembering their old lives, imagining their funerals where people will surely shake their heads and say, “That’s what they get for going to Council Bluffs,” they see a cop car in the rearview. They’re excited, because surely this means they’re saved! Few things about this:

  That’s how you know they were young. To be excited to be alone with the police with no witnesses is, and I say this with love, dumb.

  They lay on the horn to try to get the attention of the police car. As the car drives by, it doesn’t slow down one bit. Several more cars drive by and don’t slow down either. I mean, it’s a honking car on the side of the road. No one can blame them. This goes on for another two hours.

  Things are looking grim. They look behind them and that van that they thought was empty, sitting a block away, is suddenly a lot closer than it used to be. There’s also someone in it. All they can do is watch this future murderer become inspired. They keep an eye on him while honking at every car that goes by. Then the girls truly lose their minds when the van starts to move. As they watch this big, old, nondescript van slowly head their way, they are certain it will be what kills them. They look to the old restaurant parking lot and now there’s a car there, also slowly headed for them. So this makes two cars when there were none. Now a third car is pulling up next to them. Before they know it, they are surrounded by three cars. They are gonna die. A man gets out of the van to—they assume—kill them. He stands next to his van for a while, just staring at them, before approaching their car. Goodbye, cruel world. He knocks on the window. Lacey yells, “We are not rolling down this window.” He keeps knocking on the window and their conversation goes like this:

  Scary: What are you doing here?

  Idiot Children: What do you think we are doing here? The car doesn’t work. It died.

  Scary: You’re lying! We saw your car move!

  (Remember, they have been sitting here for hours, freezing in a car that is off. If this man saw this car move, he’s been watching them for hours.)

  Scary: Are you waiting for drugs? What are you doing here? We saw the car move!

  Idiot Children: That was a long time ago. No one waits for drugs in the middle of nowhere for hours.

  Scary proceeds to pull out a walkie-talkie and discuss the situation with the people in the other two cars. After a short, stupid discussion, he says:

  Scary: We are with the Council Bluffs MAD DADS. We can get you guys some help; we can drive you to the gas station.

  Nooooow, I’m not in charge of the MAD DADS, but I have never, and I mean never, seen a group of MAD DADS who were white. And I kind of feel like they were MAD DAD–ing wrong. The Omaha MAD DADS wanted to protect their community. But it seemed like the Council Bluffs MAD DADS wanted to catch some Black people. This man watched three teenagers almost freeze to death on the side of the road hoping that he could watch a drug deal go down, then god knows what he would have done. Seriously. What if our dad had come to save them and this old van-driving dumb-as-rocks walking turd saw it? He could have done anything. Anyway, Scary gives the “all clear” into the walkie-talkie. They look behind them to the van and A WIFE AND TWO KIDS POP UP. THIS MAN BROUGHT HIS FAMILY TO WHAT HE THOUGHT WAS A DRUG DEAL.

  They were so excited at the thought of catching drug dealers that they let three teenagers freeze in a car for close to three hours.

  Learning Is FundaMENTAL

  Before Lacey started working at the girls’ rehabilitation community, she had to take a psychiatric behavior training class. This would be a great opportunity to learn how to give the children what they needed and be able to understand them better. Lacey (big nerd) was excited to learn. Their instructor was a middle-aged white guy who couldn’t hide his ignorance when talking to POC in class. He’d walk in and give a completely normal greeting to everyone, but when he was talking to minority students he’d be like, “Yo, yo, yo. You gotcho assignment?” Or “Yo, yo, you gon’ be here ’morrow?” The second this started, Lacey wasn’t having any of it. This isn’t the most uncommon occurrence. She didn’t let him act this way for one minute because it’s truly the most annoying thing. Here are some examples:

  What They Say to Your Classmates

  What They Say to You

  Hello, everyone!

  yo, Yo, YO!

  Oopsie, you miscalculated.

  Biiitch, you trippin’!

  Correct!

  You right, you right.

  Give it a shot!

  It’s like you ain’t even be tryin’!

  Which way to the interstate?

  How I’m posta get home?

  We did a good job and hit our goal!

  We winnin’!

  Not only could Lacey not stand being talked to like this three times a week for the next eight weeks, but she noticed there were a lot of young Black kids just starting out in this class with her. They shouldn’t have to deal with this fool. She told him he couldn’t continue like this. “It’s ignorant and offensive. I realize you’re trying to be cool. It’s not. Talk to us like you talk to everyone else.” He did not like that at all. Oh, well. She wasn’t there to make him feel comfy in his ignorance. She was paying money for this class. And anytime I’m paying you money, basic respect better be included.

  It quickly became clear to Lacey that this man was in no way qualified to teach this class. He was a next-level dum-dum. He would teach them made-up facts. It got so bad Lacey would record him so we could all listen and laugh. My favorite thing this guy ever said and the straw that broke the camel’s back was this:

  He once was trying to explain the difference between the prefixes supra- and super-. Now, I don’t know if you’re about to google supra-, but this teacher didn’t. He told a class full of adults a made-up definition of an actual word. Personally, I would’ve leaned in, enthralled. But Lacey was livid. He then said the dumbest thing any human being has ever said. He told the class that supra- comes from the word supracalifragilisticexpialidocious. He said supra- means “above,” and that’s why Mary Poppins always held the umbrella “above” her head.

  I mean there’s like a million insane things in that line of thought, but I’m gonna just say this: Where else could you possibly hold an umbrella? Below? Also it’s not SUPRA-califragilisticexpialidocious It’s SUPER-califragilisticexpialidocious. Now, this may sound like this man has some real problems, but it was more that he wanted to hear himself talk and thought he didn’t need to follow along with the curriculum. All he had to do was read aloud from the book or tell them to and he would’ve been saved.

  Side story: Lacey had a Black friend whose nickname was Odo but her whole name was Odomichi. The two of them were at a gallery opening. It was a fancy gathering full of fancy people. A woman introduces herself to the two of them and asks what Odo is short for. Odo replies, “Odomichi.” The woman is floored. Not only is that an impossible name to say, but it is also insane! She is yelling about it, going on and on. Multiple attempts to say it correctly. She can’t. It’s as hilarious to her as it is impossible to say. “It’s like a crazy African name!” She goes on and on. Lacey laughs along and goes, “Oh yeah! It’s like… What’s that song in that Mary Poppins movie? The one that’s really hard to say?” The woman, without missing a beat, says, “Supercalifragilisticexpialidocious!” Lacey says, “That’s right. Now, how in the world is that so easy to say but Odomichi, a four-syllable word, is not? Hmmm. It’s almost like you want to get it wrong.” The woman sees her mistake but it’s
too late. Silenced, she skulks away.

  Back to the story. Lacey was furious that she spent money on listening to the ramblings of a crazy person when she could’ve been learning things that would help her in her job taking care of children. She, along with many other students, went to the office, told them about his excessive use of the word Yo, and complained about his making up his own facts. Lucky for her, she had recorded his supra- rant. She played it for the people in the office, and they couldn’t believe their ears. They must’ve talked to him, because the next day in class he tried to get his revenge.

  He announced that they were going to learn about different cultures and their behaviors. “First, we are going to learn AAALLLLLLLL about Black culture.” He walks up to the TV in the front of the class. With a smirk, he puts on the movie Boyz n the Hood. Most of the class, including several white students, walk out. They go to the front office again and make their complaint. They can’t believe he’s showing a movie instead of following the curriculum. He is immediately fired.

  But the real end of the story and the part that makes it one of the best stories of all time is: The three students who stayed in the room later told the rest of the class that in the middle of the movie, a porn film started playing. Not only was he disrespectful enough to show them Boyz n the Hood and talk about “This is how you learn about Black people,” but he was disrespectful enough to use his tape of that movie, which everyone agrees is a masterpiece, to record porn. He ran up to the TV and shut it off as fast as he could and ended class early.

  Let’s Take a Break and Have Some More Silly Stories

  No. This is where we are at now and it will only become more unbelievable. It’s time for some real doozies. You’d think the stories in this chapter were plot points in a bad movie. And they are! Lacey and the Whites is coming to theaters this fall!