“So…I have a question for you.”
new art director, Nick, sat across from me, wiping a bit of pizza sauce
from the sides of his mouth. The animator, Robert, sat to the right of
him, and seemed to tense up anticipating the question. It was the first
week of my first job out of college, a small games studio in Florida
that I’d been initially proud and excited to have landed. The three of
us had gone out for lunch that day and were getting to know each other a
“What?” I asked.
“What exactly is your…genetic…makeup?” He asked.
paused, chewing for a second before answering, “that’s a really bizarre
way to phrase that question. Do you mean like what’s my…ethnicity? Or
“Well my mom’s white and my dad’s Mexican. But I mean, they both were born here. I was born here.”
“Yeah, I was just curious, ‘cause like…your last name is totally Hispanic, but I was like…she definitely does not look Hispanic.”
yeah. I get that a lot.” I dabbed awkwardly at my pizza with a napkin.
The subject was quickly changed, and I wrote it off as just a one-time
snafu. I almost forgot about it, until, as we were leaving, he asked me a
bit more about my family.
“So do you have any brothers and sisters? I know you probably have a ton of them, right?”
“No, just my sister. Wait, why would you think that?”
“’Cause, you know…” he shrugs. “You’re Mexican!”
A friend’s experience in the industry. It doesn’t have to be marvel or dc for this shit to happen.
The Cool Girl Trap: Or, Why Sexism in Tech Isn’t Going Away.
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