So, a couple of times I’ve heard jokes about pumpkin spice being for white women. Like… it’s our drug.
Our sweet, sweet drug.
Now, a sample set of ME concurs*. I will run into traffic for pumpkin spice baked goods. Thing of it is, I have friends who don’t like pumpkin spice, and friends who do.
And it seems to me there is no racial difference. (Or height difference or age difference for that matter. To be fair, taste preferences do have a cultural component, but ultimately, we like what we’re used to.)
I don’t know why the “flypaper for white chicks!” jokes bother me so much. It’s not like I’m offended it’s calling me white because, uh, I am.
Oh so very melanin-deprived.
Maybe it’s that the joke ends there… like it’s enough to be funny I might share a preference with other females with tanning problems.
The whole joke is “You have a stereotype!”, and I don’t like stereotypes.
Context: minorities are more likely to be stereotyped, so the joke is in a way an anti-joke, “Look! I’m stereotyping the majority!” Yay? Equal time?
But there’s that hint of “women like it so it must be bad,” because men are rarely allowed to like anything women might like for some reason, other than ice cream and football.
Still, I saw this on my way in to work:
…and as the construction crew enjoyed their lattes, I felt warmed by the gingery scent of stereotypes being broken.
*NB: I don’t actually drink Pumpkin Spice Lattes, because I am in a monogamous coffee relationship with Phoenix Coffee’s mocha.
