A Weird Dream

Due to having eaten potato chips, beef jerky and popcorn with pineapple-flavored carbonated drinks, I had a weird dream a couple of days ago.

I dreamed I was a Mexican immigrant working in Arizona, legal papers and all. But in order to protest the law that allows—I mean, makes—policemen to ask for your papers if you’re brown skinned, so I went back to Mexico.

2008-04-agent-pats-down-illegal-mexican-immigrantThe staff at the US Immigration Services could use some sensitivity training.

When I arrived in Mexico, I immediately started to look for a job and I landed an interview. As I walked into the offices where the interview would take place, I noticed that all the men were staring at me, but only from my neck down, which made me feel uncomfortable and self-conscious. When I sat down in the office of the person that I had come to see, I realized why. I had turned into a woman!

“Great legs, gorgeous!” said the man who was interviewing me. “But I can’t hire you because we need a man for this position. But don’t worry, since you’re a woman, you must have a boyfriend or a husband that can help you. Give him something he likes and I’m sure he’ll know how to thank you.”

I left the interview in a rage, between whistles and cheesy pick-up lines from the men working there. Fortunately, I had another interview that day, and for some reason, they wanted a woman for this job.

The second interview was as short and as humiliating as the first one. “Excuse me, can’t you read?” asked the human resources manager, who happened to be a woman. “The ad clearly states that for the position of receptionist we’re looking for tall, fair-skinned girls in order to give a good impression.” It was then that I noticed that, in addition of being brown-skinned, my new female body was only 1.58m (5’2”) tall. The fact that it was another woman who told me this made me feel even worse.

I came out of the experience very disappointed and sad, not knowing what to do, when at that moment, my cell phone started to ring. It was my girlfriend. (That’s when I realized I was a lesbian.) She sounded very anxious and worried.

“Honey, guess what? Somebody told my father about our relationship and he says he’s not going to continue letting two perverts live in his apartment anymore. What are we doing to do? Where are we going to live now?”

I told her not to worry, that we’d think of something. We agreed that it had been a terrible day for both of us and that we should go have a drink to relax. “Tomorrow will be another day,” I tried to reassure her. We agreed to meet at a bar downtown.

I went to the metro station and I realized that each step was giving me a lot of trouble. I looked down and discovered I was missing a leg! And I had to wear crutches! Moving around became a pain in the butt. Walking down the stars, changing Metro lines twice and getting out of the station was a living hell. In addition to that, the handicapped seats were all occupied by people who were completely fine and that didn’t even move when I came by. Also, the elevators for handicapped were vandalized.

We arrived at the bar, and even though no one else was waiting at the entrance, the bouncer wouldn’t let us in because “we weren’t properly dressed.” When I pointed to the sign that said that in that establishment they didn’t discriminate on the basis of race, skin color, clothes, or economical status, he replied, “We’re holding a private event.”

bouncer1The bouncers in Mexico could use some sensitivity training too.

That’s when three tall, blond girls, who were obviously looking for any place arrived and they were let in immediately. When I protested, I was told, “They had reservations.”

In the end, I saved enough money and I went back to Arizona. At least in the United States, I’m only discriminated against for being Mexican.

It was then that I woke up and sighed with relief. It had all been just a dream. “I’m so glad that these kinds of things aren’t real,” I told myself and finished the rest of the popcorn.