When "offensive" is actually inclusive

A new World Cup viral clip is spreading around today.

There’s a group of Argentines in Kansas City chanting their classic football songs in the heat of the day, Argentine jerseys and happy faces all around. On top of one man’s shoulders sits a little person wearing an Austrian team jersey, because Argentina is playing Austria today.

They keep chanting and dancing, and the little person is chanting and dancing too. I don’t understand what they are saying until I realize what is happening in the video.

The group of Argentine fans are stripping his Austrian jersey off (while he is still on one Argentine’s shoulders) and replacing it with an Argentina jersey, complete with blue-and-white sunglasses and a hat, while waving the national flag and lifting his hands in elation the way Argentines do all the time.

And they chant:

“¡El enano es argentino! ¡El enano es argentino!”

The dwarf is Argentine! The dwarf is Argentine!

Everyone in the clip is smiling and chanting the same chant. But the biggest smile of all is from the enano.

The first thing I thought when watching this clip, being a careful American who overanalyzes prejudice, is, oh fuck, people are going to have a field day again about how racist and inappropriate Argentines are.

If Americans yelled “The dwarf is American,” it doesn’t land. Flaunting him, putting him on your shoulders, yelling his difference to the world. No, no. This is very inappropriate.

In the US, normally, when a little person walks into the room, you treat him as an equal. You smile and talk to him naturally. You say hi, how are you, where are you from, what’s new, and work hard to include him. But we all know the underlying thoughts:

Oh my God, a little person. I’ve never met a little person. How do I act? Just treat him normally.

And the little person is probably thinking:

They’ve probably never met a little person. Let’s see how they talk to me. Are they going to be weird?

But no one says anything about his difference. Everyone just tries to include him as an equal.

But in Argentina, the first thing someone will say if a little person enters the room is:

“Eh enano, ¿cómo estás?”

Hey dwarf, how are you?

Followed by a big hug and kiss on the cheek.

They recognize the difference. And not just recognize it. They include him because of it. By noting the difference from the beginning, cutting off the unnecessary weird stuff and breaking the tension in the room, they are including him.

The same goes with race. If a black person enters the room they would say, “Eh negro, ¿cómo estás?” Immediately recognizing and saying the difference. But the back person is included.

In the US, I could never say, “Hey black man, how are you?” if one black person entered a party of mainly white guests. It just doesn’t work. You immediately try to treat them as an equal, while in the back of everyone’s mind there is often a little voice saying: “There is one black person here. Am I supposed to talk to him? If I don’t, will he think I’m racist? But if I do, am I forcing it? What if I accidentally say something offensive?”

And the black guest might be thinking: “Man, this is weird. Why is everyone acting so carefully around me? Is it because I’m black?”

With Argentines they call you black from the beginning. They note your difference. And they include you because of it.

I can’t even look at Twitter/X these days. But my Argentine husband shows me. All the hate for the Argentine team and Argentines because they are one of the only all white teams and are supposedly racist and inappropriate because they called someone negro or enano or gordo or something else that simply doesn’t translate well.

Sure, there is a small minority of racist and prejudiced people in all cultures, people who genuinely believe their color, appearance, size, or heritage makes them better than others. But the internet tends to portray Argentines completely wrong.

The Argentina I know looks nothing like the one described on the internet. I have never felt more welcomed anywhere in my life.

When I first moved here in 2009, everyone I met hated the US government. They called us Yankees. With the SHHH-ankee sound (Argentines pronounce “y” and “ll” with a “shhh” sound). Many blamed the United States for its influence in Latin America and its association with military dictatorships across the region. In Argentina, many still connected the US to the years leading up to and during the Dirty War (1976–1983), when thousands of people disappeared.

So I came here thinking they would all hate me. That they would see me as the privileged American. That they would associate me with US foreign policy. That they wouldn’t really want to talk to me. That I would always be the outsider.

When I arrived, they all called me Yankee. Yes.

“Ey Yankee, ¿cómo estás? Ey Yankee, ¿me vas a robar la plata como tu presidente?”

Hey American, how are you? Are you going to rob me like your president?

They recognized my difference and accepted me for it, perhaps by throwing a few jokes my way to ease whatever tension those differences might create. By bringing the difference into the open from the beginning, it somehow became less important.

Nobody had to pretend it wasn’t there. Nobody had to walk on eggshells. They acknowledged it, laughed about it, and then moved on.

The biggest issue here is not racism. Not nationality. Not ethnicity. But classism.

In Argentina, you have the chetos (the wealthy, privileged people) and the gente (the common people). Most of the population complains about the chetos and how they give Argentina a bad reputation internationally. It’s often the chetos in the viral videos being rude to workers, looking privileged and disconnected from everyday reality. I once saw a horrible video that went viral of wealthy Argentines screaming at poor Mexican workers over some dispute involving trees.

But these entitled chetos are a minority. The internet has a way of finding the worst examples and presenting them as representative of an entire country. Most Argentines I know—the gente, the pueblo, ordinary people—simply aren’t like that. They are warm, caring, welcoming people who would greet that same Mexican worker with a hug, a joke about Mexico, and an invitation to join them for an asado.

One of the primary qualities I love about Argentines is their directness. There is very little formality when it comes to getting to know people. They will give you a nickname almost immediately upon meeting you.

Just try not to let it offend you.

Here is some slang that may raise an eyebrow or two, though I hope it doesn’t. Again, you are included, with or without these names:

• El Chino —The Chinese guy. Used for Chinese people and all East Asians generally, and also people who simply look East Asian or have thinner eyes (like my husband, Chino, when he smiles)

• El Enano—The dwarf. Used for a little person.

• El Negro—The black guy. Often used for someone with darker skin, though sometimes used affectionately regardless of race.

• El Ruso—The Russian. Historically used for many Jewish Argentines because of immigration from Eastern Europe and Russia. Now, used for most Jewish people.

• El Turco—The Turk. Historically used for Arabs whose ancestors arrived carrying Ottoman passports. Now, used for most all Arabs.

• El Gordo—The fat guy.

• El Flaco—The skinny guy.

• Palito—Little stick. Someone extremely skinny.

• Narigón—Big nose.

• Cabezón—Big head.

• Orejón—Big ears.

• Patón—Big feet.

• Tano—Italian.

• Gallego—Spaniard.

To an American ear, when you try to translate these slang nicknames in your head, you take a step back.

Did they just call me fat? Did they call me Chinese? I’m from Japan! Did they call me black? Really? I’m not even black, I’m Indigenous!

But before you get too angry about the wording, stop and think: Did they include you?

For me, in most of these cases, that’s exactly what they’re trying to do. They identify your difference first. They break the ice by noticing it. Then they open their arms.

If you drink mate. If you try to speak Spanish. If you wear blue and white on a game day. If you greet people with a kiss on the cheek. If you drink fernet. If you come here and really get to know Argentines. If you simply smile and say hola.

You won’t stay an outsider for long.

It may sound offensive to foreign ears. But sometimes the very thing that sounds exclusionary is Argentina’s way of welcoming you in.

In Argentina, we say, “El argentino nace donde quiere.” The Argentine is born wherever they want to. No matter who you are, no matter what you look like, there is always room for one more at the asado.

Viral post on X:

Cafa@tobillosdepapel

Hola, solo pasaba a recordarles, una vez más, que somos el mejor país del mundo. Saludos, Sabella

10:26 AM · Jun 22, 2026 · 178K Views

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