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PTR  ·  158 days ago  ·  link  ·    ·  parent  ·  post: Pubski: June 13, 2018

My older sister (SIS) got married last week. I'mma vent some detailed shit.

tl;dr older sister marries racist she barely knows.

I met the groom, brother-in-law, (BIL) about 24 hours before the ceremony. SIS met BIL 12 months ago on Christian Mingle. She was on there because she's been in a foreign country for 2 years and doesn't speak the language. Also Evangelical Christian. He's on there because he's 28 and never had a girlfriend, not once. Also Evangelical Christian. From the deep South. They met twice before a proposal. Total time spent in each other's presence at that point: <6 days. It's a 4 month engagement.

My wife is black. She's a bridesmaid. Several family members preempt, warn that BIL has "drunk deeply of the culture", whispers of "latent racism". He's from the delta. BIL apparently has a hilarious sassy black mammy voice. Very funny, I'm sure. He thinks he's progressive though. Finds it offensive that people find the accent offensive, "It's just a joke!" He doesn't use the voice in front of my wife. Doesn't speak to her, not ever.

Successful rehearsal regardless. Very isolated pockets of conversation, clear division of bride/groom families. Amid hubbub, at one point I hear a practiced Butterfly McQueen imitation. "Miss Scarlett, I don't know nothin' 'bout birthin' no babies," is just as funny as I expected it to be at a rehearsal dinner. Very appropriate. This one isn't BIL though, it's his best man. According to sources, BIL is a Hatty McDaniel type.

So me, brother to the bride and usher, trying to invite people out for drinks post-rehearsal dinner. Speaking to the groomsmen and their partners, all Southern gents and gals my age, all heavily accented. Talk is going well, nice-ish folks. Wife drops in, peck on the cheek, introduce her to everyone. Groomsmen clam the fuck up, no longer interested in drinks, no eye contact, conversational circle closes, "We're good, man. Thanks."

Oh word? Ok. Yeah. We're "good".

Wedding day. Big day. Busy, busy, busy. Lots of last minute changes. One change, my wife now has to wear a white shawl to cover her arms, ostensibly to conceal her visible tattoos. Bridesmaids are already in modest floor-length dresses during a Southern summer. Now a cardigan? The only bridesmaid to need one apparently. Also, natural hair is a no go. BIL's mom: "We need you to straighten it, honey."

Hmmm...this is nearly unbearable. Wife is a good sport, lovely disposition, a real gem this one. We practice a mantra: These people will never leave their bayou; they mean nothing to me and you.

Gets a good chuckle, but still. Very interested in getting her away from these people. Providing her pleeeenty of alcohol from various suit pockets. This wedding was Saharan dry. Remember, Evangelical.

Wedding occurs, sermon, communion, kiss is an A-framed pucker. I think I hear their teeth click, might've been someone's camera shutter.

BIL's mom and dad are a photographer's nightmare, very condescending. BIL's mom is an amateur photographer, uses the word "auteur" self-descriptively but it sounds more like "otter" with a second syllable accent and a hard "R" of course. Nightmare. Groom's side gets family shots first, then both, then bride's. As bride's family's ordering up, wife and I stand close near the edge. Audibly, BIL's mom: "Oh, is she family? I didn't realize."

I'm steaming.

Getaway car's parked outside, it's BIL's dad's. Bumper stickers are all Trump, Trump, Trump. Maga. Don't tread on me. Amendment 2. Red hat on the back passenger seat. You know what it is. So I snap a photo, send to the wife. She texts back, "Let's go. Now." Puff of smoke emoji.

Now approaching "Get Out" territory, I don't need a second word. We leave, drive 14 hours up the coast that night, no sleep. Fueled on caffeine, anger, and juicy fuckin' gossip. SIS was never a smart kid, but she picked a bad one. Like...cartoonishly racist, nothing latent about it. But we're home and safe.

Get a text from a cousin, SIS's confidante. SIS initiated marital sexy times, rubbing over the pants in the hotel. BIL cried as only a repressed Evangelical can. A lot. Wouldn't stop all night apparently. A no action night.

    These people will never leave their bayou.

    They mean nothing to me and you.