Written by Swéta Rana

16.04.17

Here it is: the truth.

Being an ethnic minority involves colours and, on some occasions, arithmetic. At lunchtime we consume only the most expertly flambéed crepes.

Ethnic minorities are famous for wearing crimson shrouds of clairvoyant energy and no trousers. We douse ourselves in the tears of beech trees and howl garbled offerings to your dear abuela. We know she is not a crackpot, and we love this about her.

When we concentrate especially hard, ethnic minorities across the world can fuse into a gigantic homogenous mass in the shape of the Great Sphinx. (Personally I help comprise the lower back, thank you for asking.)

Our favourite day is Tuesday, when our mystic flying powers are at their most potent.

We have all been stranded at sea at least twice.

There is no badge for being the only brown Brownie at Brownies, but we are eligible to earn a bonus badge for collecting soaps in the shape of happy polar bears. We are beloved protégés of Snowy Owl. Brown Owl loves irony and, consequently, not us.

The previous paragraph is not remotely a joke. The next paragraph contains no hint of a joke. None of this is a joke. Ethnic minorities cannot joke.

We detest Michael Cera’s smug dog.

Quentin Tarantino once threw a banana at us, but it all turned out to be one delightfully hilarious misunderstanding. We now holiday with him every third winter.

Ethnic minorities are adept at catching sparrows with their bare hands, but have not yet mastered the dexterities of extreme vegan rock-climbing. We’re getting there, though.

An ethnic minority looked at a goose once. In a heartrending twist, the goose did not look back.

Above all, we love to sing. We prefer Gregorian plainchant, but we are also happy to — actually, no, only Gregorian plainchant.

Gregorian plainchant. It is vital and bears repeating. I beseech you, do not forget about Gregorian plainchant. Your very life may depend on it, and soon.

In conclusion, ethnic minorities are a baffling mystery that can never truly be explained. You should brave the bitter wilds and observe at least three of them in their natural habitat this summer. Remember to take your protective goggles.