Grim reading. I'd like to say things are different here but the differences would be more of style than substance.

I could tell you about my racist mother, who treated the Black checkout girl at our local supermarket with curt bad manners and a mistrustful glare, always openly double-checking her change. I recall seeing her face go from red to white with suppressed rage the day my father went shopping with her. Dad, who was utterly indifferent in matters of gender, colour and religion - the only thing he cared about was whether a person could do their job - passed the time of day pleasantly and politely with the Black checkout girl as the purchases went through, and barely even glanced at the change. I remeber the way Mum began to scream at him about how he'd 'shown us up' as soon as we left the shop. How he shut her down with a simple "Be quiet!"

I was nine or so. It made an impression on me. I know Mum was always rude to that girl, but she was often rude to people. I hadn't been aware that it was the colour of the young womans' skin she specifically objected to. I knew better than to ask questions - my father wouldn't answer and my mother would hit me. I'd have to find out the answers for myself.