I’ve learned a lot of things since I’ve been riding Uber and one of the most surprising and unexpected things is the men that have been my drivers.

I’m a Texas woman which means I can sweet talk real good and just about smother anyone with good ol’ Southern charm, like I was raised to do.

I expect men to open doors, walk on the side of traffic, carry bags and offer a hand.

It’s what I thought a man was taught to do and supposed to do. It’s what my sons were taught and do.

The whole “ an officer and a gentleman” aspect.

But then, there’s this whole another thing I’ve learned from others when I mention or write about my Uber rides.

“What do you think when you get picked up by a man that doesn’t speak English?”

“ Do you get in the car with just anyone- men from other countries? Can’t you tell by the profile that they aren’t American’s? Do you feel safe with ‘ those men’?”

It’s thinly disguised as concern for my safety but it’s really flat out racism and bigotry .

It always comes from white middle and upper class men and women.

From “ good ol’ boys” that swagger when they walk and from women that act like they might be treated wrong or at risk if they get into a car with a man that wasn’t born in the U.S.A.

But let me tell you something.

I’ve stopped assuming anything about men and just take them all as they are and it’s been one heck of a ride, one blessing after another and countless stories to write about.

This is what I have experienced from the men that choose to pick me up.

They are all different, they all have stories to tell and they all get me where I’m going.

But some do a whole lot more…. and almost every single one of those men that do more is a man from another country, a man that struggles to speak English well, but knows how to treat a lady.

I have a central nervous system injury that’s impacted my left leg. Some days it’s barely an issue, other times – especially after a long day at work- my leg trembles and locks up.

I’m not very graceful when I walk which hurts my feelings more than I care to admit.
I’ve got tears in my eyes as I write this right now, because it’s the truth- the hard truth. I like to be graceful, it’s another part of my Southern upbringing- to walk heel to toe, gracefully, beautifully, easily-that I really miss more than I’ll like to let on.

But, if I’m holding on to a man’s arm, my steps are steadier, my balance improves and I’m a lot more graceful as I’m guided along.

However, i don’t ask to belped because that’s another Southern thing- i will be tickled pink to accept help but I sure will not ask for it.

I’ll square my shoulders, adjust my bags and hold my head high and make it to where I’m going…. because I can. I really can but I sure do like it when a gentleman steps in.

I’ve been picked up several times by men that relied on Google Translate to communicate with me.

And every single one of those men got out of their cars when they saw me standing there and opened the door and took my bag. Every single one of those Latino men offered me their arm and walked me to my door- either to my studio or my
home.

Kindness is a universal language and so is being a gentleman.

When I was first injured and going to physical therapy sessions, I was picked up by a tall, strong, polite man from Sudan.

He didn’t say much during the ride and , truthfully, i was aching from therapy and didn’t really try to engage in conversation.

We arrived at my house and he opened my door and, as I stepped out, my legs buckled underneath me.
He grabbed me, lifted me up in his arms and carried me the 52 steps to my porch.

I tried to tell him that I could stand snd walk but he gently and firmly said,”Ma’am, no, you can’t, I’m going to take care of you.”

As he placed me back down, my dogs started barking and growling at the door and I told him to get safely into his car before I opened my door and he did, but he didn’t drive off until I was safely inside my own door.

He was a gentleman. He went above and beyond expectations and it didn’t matter one bit that he didn’t speak perfect English.

Another morning, a young Latina man arrived to get me from my home to take me to my studio. As I got in his car, chatting about where he’s taking me, i caught the confused look in his eyes.

He placed his phone close to my lips and looked sheepishly at me,

I laughed and asked if he knew English and he shook his head and looked so heartbroken.

I smiled and texted a Spanish friend, asking her to text these words back to me in Spanish.

“ It’s okay. As long as you get me to work safe, it’s all going to be okay.”

He beamed with relief to read the words that took some stress off his shoulders.

When we pulled up to my studio, he jumped out of his car and ran around to my door to open it.
Then he offered his arm and we walked arm and arm across the parking lot and up into my studio.

“Gracias,” i said to him and he opened his arms and touched his heart and i stepped forward to receive a tight hug from a guy that just minutes before was unsure of how he would be treated because he didn’t speak English well.

He was a gentleman with his actions and proved once again, that communication isn’t just about speaking, it’s also about feeling and anticipating what another person needs and wants.

So let’s get back to those “good ol’ boys “- born abs raised America men.

God love them, because I sure do, too.

But let me tell you another thing I’ve learned from over 1,000 Uber rides, the American man is not as much of a gentleman.

When I get picked up by a white, American man, they rarely get out of the car and while they shout the bull just fine in perfect English, they don’t go out of the way to do anything more than drive from point A to point B.

Take last night, for example. I caught a ride with a man named Robert that has picked me up before. He’s a nice guy and we fell into an easy conversation about Christmas plans and grocery stores.

I feel safe with him. I understand every word he says.

When he pulled up to my house after 8 at night, I got out and walked around the back of his car and stepped on my sidewalk.

He drove off before I had even made it two steps up the 52 steps to my porch.

I wasn’t surprised because it’s very typical behavior from an American man.

I was a little disappointed, though, truth be told, because I expect more.

Maybe I just didn’t sweet talk him enough.

Maybe he just thinks I’m perfectly capable of getting into my house on my own two feet.

After all, I really am perfectly capable….. but I’m also a lady and I sure do expect men to treat theme like a gentleman would.

I want to be surprised by the “good ol’ boys”- the all American men again.

I want them to be gentlemen.