My young daughter needed to go to the toilet during a shopping trip in London during the last school holidays. While I stood next to the hand basins waiting for her, a woman came out of one of the cubicles and as she washed her hands, looked up and admonished me in no uncertain terms for the poor job I had done in keeping the toilets clean. Speechless, I watched her storm out. I am not an indolent cleaner; but I am Black, of African descent, and an Australian national. My daughter, having overheard, asked why I had not explained that I was a professor. But why do I have to?
It makes me ashamed of my fellows.