The Kiss of the Chiclets Girl

I didn't sleep very well last night and ended up having this in-between dream and recollection thing. I think most of it is true recollection:

I am ten-years old or so. I am sitting in the front passenger seat of our car. my younger sisters are at the back. My mum is driving and my dad is not around. It's Christmas and we're driving through Beirut's Hamra Street looking at the street's reputed xmas decoration. It must have been 1967 or 1968. It's a cold rainy night and 'Nights in white satin' is playing on the car radio.
There's a lot of traffic and the car is almost stationary. I am looking at all the decoration and all the shoppers. Its sparkle sparkle everywhere made more sparkly by the wet road. It had just rained but its not raining now and I have the window open. my hand is resting on the car windowsill. night in white satin, sparkle sparkle. Suddenly the dark face of a girl my age was struggling to look through the window. She was selling chewing gum 'Chiclets', a common Beiruti mode of begging-as-if-one-is-not-begging. 'Allah y khalleelik yeh' (May god keep him safe for you) she said to my mother hoping we would give her some money. Mum ignores her but I was connecting to her face which I found beautiful. And then she said to Mum. 'Allah yehr-so' (may god protect him) and suddenly she kissed my hand.
I was a bit shocked and withdrew my hand. My mum saw her kiss my hand and she screamed at her: W'lee! -untranslatable I think, but an equivalent of 'You' (said with a tone to imply You little shit). Rooheh N'ebreh (Go and get buried). I on the other hand, didn't want her to go and get buried at all. I was still feeling the kiss. Too young to think 'sex' but definitely felt it as libidinal/sexual experience. I certainly didn't dwell on the structure of inequality and humiliation that constituted the kiss both as something pleasurable to me and as an intrusion in the eyes of my mother. Mum was fuming and I was dreaming of her face and the car moved: Night in White Satin, Merry Christmas, Sparkle Sparkle.

Regarding #FourCorners on International Students as Cash Cows - Free Advice to White People (take it whichever way you like):

Dear White People,

When you are talking, writing, or making a film, about non-white people, a non-racist take will *not* come to you naturally, no it won't; it is not your default position, no its not; no matter how nice or how well meaning you are (and I'll generously assume that you are).

A take on racialised people where racism has been minimalised as much as possible is something you need to labour on - a lot -,  this includes (but not only) listening carefully, interacting and integrating the voices of the racialised that you are talking about, and most importantly, thinking them as part of the people you are addressing as opposed to 'talking about them'. Even the most seasoned anti-racist writer, and i humbly include myself here, will easily lapse into racism without a continuous intense, reflexive and vigilant labour. you might think that's a lot to do and it is, but you need to think of it as the price you pay for all the privileges that you otherwise get from the racist structure in which you are positioned. there is no easy and comfortable path away from racism; easy and comfortable is the path you are already on because of racism.

When you haven't laboured on what you are doing in this way,  when you have not reflected and sweated and subjected what you are doing to a stringent critique, it will merely reflect your structural position within the power structures, That is, it will turn out to be racist (yes it will).