The Anthropology of (white) MAN

White people don't notice when they bump into me.
Case and point: On the Amtrak train to DC, white man number 1 accidently rammed his knee against mine .  Then he stepped on my toe. The big toe. The one that hurts.
As he adjusted his seat,he elbowed me. Now as he begins to nap, his head is coming perilously close to coming to a final resting destination on my shoulder.
He says nothing. No "pardon me." No "sorry."  Nada.
I have a friend who believes all white people to be physically awkward. His theory is that they don't say "excuse me" because they can't help their physical ineptitude.
My friend has clearly never watched hockey.  Or skied. Or run a Marathon.  Or observed gymnastics. When they want to be, white people can be quite agile.
No, it's not that they can't move. It's more complicated. Maybe they don't open their mouths to excuse themselves because logically it doesn't make sense for them to.
Logic is really important to white folk. They are masters of imperical impartiality. Where possible, they strive to root all things in the objective and concrete.
Take racism for example. Can you see it?  Hear it?  Taste it? Well then,  how do you KNOW exists? That's right nigger boy, you don't. Please stop whining.
I digress. Lets get back to the issue at hand : the logic the white man has for stepping all over me. Hm. Perhaps he does this because he is a master of space and place. If he  OWNS everything and everyone, why should  he say anything when he  begins to drool on my shoulder as the man next to me is now. He's beginning to snore.
Think about it this way: when you fart in your own bedroom, do you excuse yourself? Well then,  that's what I thought.  When White Man tramples all over me,  he is merely stretching himself over an area that's intrinsically his.
Which leads to the crux of my hypothesis: white man cannot see me. Indeed, it could be that I am an invisible man of an invisible people. Perhaps, unbeknownst to me, I was born of some strange legerdemain that allows me to be brushed aside at will.
Yes, the phantasmagoria that  defines me and my people explains so much. It's why white people assume immediately that I have no father or mother. That by the grace of God and white benevolence (redundant?), I speak standard English and went to college and graduate school. It's how they exude such confidence when they pat me on the head and call my experiences "emotional,"not based on reality. I'm a magic negro!
Now hold on. I'm not COMPLETELY invisible. When physical labor is needed or sex is exoticized I can be sure to get a nod. Rape? Murder? Well, I get a shout out there too! Intellectual ineptitude. Yes, thattttsssss me!
I suppose I should get a napkin for my seatmate whose ass has somehow blubbered its way to being partially in my seat, despite his gaunt stature . Mucus is spilling from his nose and onto my cardigan as he enjoys what looks to be the most pleasant of sleeps. I wonder if he's going down to see the inauguration tomorrow as I am.