Lately, there’s been a lot of hype over the new Black Panther movie.   Schools are taking classes to see it.   From what I’ve been told, pre-order tickets are as precious as adamantium.  It’s already on track to blow the recent beat up the recent Thor movie at the box office.

All that’s great.   More power to Disney, our entertainment overlord, but I’m really not interested in seeing it.  Yeah, I followed comics in the 80s and early 90s.  I know a bit about everything in Marvel, but I never really followed the Black Panther.  I knew of his history from comic cross-overs and I played his stage on the now defunct Marvel game that was on Steam, but his character just never resonated with me.

At the gym, since I never go anywhere else that’s really social, this girl struck up a conversation about the movie.  Normally a true-blue introvert, I’ve gotten to be pretty friendly with people at the gym.   I don’t know their names but they know who I am, some how.  I’ve kind of gotten used to conversing with strangers or fairly strange people.  I didn’t think nothing of it.

This girl kept going on about how great it was to get tickets and how happy her boyfriend was going to be.  – Apparently, this was a Valentine’s Day surprise.  We speculated about how the Black Panther might connect to the Infinity Gauntlet and if Storm was going to be in Black Panther 2.   (You know there’s going to be a sequel before the movie releases.   This is Disney and Marvel.)

She asked me when I was going to buy my ticket.    Without thinking, I guess, I told her I had no interest in seeing the movie.

Before I took another two staggering steps on the treadmill, the girl transformed. remarkable.  Her breathing changed.  She started running faster and nearly rammed herself into the treadmill’s console.  Her mouth clamped shut and she became pale.   If I knew what was going on, I might have even heard her jaw grind.

Me, Miss Oblivious, had no idea what was going on.   I just kept chattering away about Marvel and, since Disney is attempting to buy Fox, I thoughtlessly diverted the suddenly one-sided conversation to the X-Men and what potential may be there.  I guess I was just trying to make a friend or at least an acquaintance.

The girl slowed down, turned to me, called me a white whore, and left.  Honestly, I was stunned.   Yeah, I’ve had things (very rarely) like that said to me in the past, but I shrugged it off.   Not a big deal.   But this comment took me completely by surprise.

In the span of 20 minutes and an incline of 15, I was branded a racist… a white supremacist… a member of the KKK… whatever.    Here…. in my small pompous dinky town…  at 9 a.m. while half watching Law and Order…  I apparently stumbled over some magical mystical line between being friendly and being hated.  From being transparent… I guess….   to being white.

Which I am.  Personally, I prefer freckled, but po-tato, pa-tato.  I make no bones about it.  I’m white and I’m not ashamed of it.

Apparently, maybe this girl thought I should be?   That because I didn’t want to see a movie that supported Charlottesville?

Before I could adjust, she was gone.   Poof.   Dust in the wind.

Left alone on the treadmill for another 40 minutes, I couldn’t help reflect on the conversation and the general state of society.   Am I really racist, in some sort of definition?   I mean, there had to be some reason why I didn’t read the Black Panther to start with, right?  I saw Daredevil in theaters.  Did that mean I got some credit for supporting the physically challenged?  If I watched Hidden Figures again, would I get back some sort of points?  If this wasn’t Black History month, would she still been upset?

How sensitive is sensitive?
I guess I’m getting old.   If I was 20 years younger, would I want to dish out the $15 to see Black Panther?  Am I product of my times and that time is long past?   If so, how does my mom get along.  Dern.

I don’t know.   It’s just troubling.
I can really see why people travel in groups of two or more to feel protected or, if alone, have headphones and glasses.    No wonder virtual porn is a million dollar industry.

By reading this, I’m going to bet that you made an assumption to the ethnic nature of the girl.
—  If you’re thinking African American, you’re wrong.