“I think I grew up with a more African-American background than you do!”
–Someone I Know (who really should know better)
Well, I guess he should get a kudos for attempting political correctness. But it’s a bit like drizzling chocolate sprinkles on a branding iron. Or letting your pinky swan dive in someone’s creme brulee. I still don’t GET why people say shit like this to me. What’s the friggin point? Humor? Discomfort? Making sure the little brown circle knows she lives in a big square? What?? What if I were to retort with a “If I couldn’t dance, then I would have more of a White background than you!” or “Since I’m the one with the advanced degree, you’re really the ni**er. Go get me some watermelon, bitch!”
So once more, for those of you in the nosebleed seats…
My Black is not measured by the food I choose to eat with a 3-prong fork or lick from my fingers
It’s not what kind of comb I pull through my hair
Or what kind of hair I choose to attach to my own
It’s not MAC or Fashion Fair
Baby Phat or Lacoste
My Black is not whether I say ‘earth’ or ‘erph’
It’s not Morrissey or Kanye
It’s not this or that
My Black is not who I marry, what color my besties are or if I squeal when I see them
It’s not Living Single or Friends
High-fives or fist bump
It’s not the mold, the box, expectation you have about who I, as a Black woman, should be
Black is what I make of it. It’s the traditions I carry on and celebrate. It’s what I get from my ancestors and what I leave my (imaginary) children. It’s how I carry plow through adversity and celebrate my wins. It’s how I choose to welcome you, build you, and warm you. To make a better me.
Inside.
That melting, gooey, mushy, sweet center of me.
For nougat knows no color.
But, if it makes you feel better, I typed this while swinging my neck in a circular motion with my illegitimate crackbaby on my hip as stood in the unemployment line drinking Colt 45 and running my hands through my Jheri Curl in my Apple Bottom jeans and gold-plated grill eating chicken wings and stepping on the bones in my knock-off Manolos that I bought at my hair salon for $10.
Tell you frenemy it’s not a competition. We’re all people, we all manifest our peopleness in different ways. Good for you for making your life your own.
WOW…I’m amazed by what your friend said, but your response is beautiful. And it holds true for all stereotypes – don’t judge anyone by crazy outside standards/ guidelines/ misconceptions. You are who you are – that’s it.
But again, I love your response. You’re a great writer!
You are awesome.
The Colt 45 reference brought back memories of the old Billy Dee Williams ads (though he’ll always be Lando Calrissian to me), and the Jheri Curl brought back college memories of “In Living Color”!
You are such a good writer. I can’t get some of these visuals out of my head. Great post.
Touche’ Mrs. Coconut! Down here in the race uncomfortably obsessed South things can get just down right stupid as we try to “relate” to one another. I personally enjoy having people try to figure out “what” I am and watching them tip toe around trying to figure it out.
But you don’t really say “erph” do you? Not that there’s anything wrong with that. Hahahah! You’d think that last line was funny if you watched Seinfeld. But Black people don’t watch Seinfeld, do they?
You Rock.
LOL. Are you on ‘food stamps’ too?
My God how stupid people can be.
Love that last paragraph. I actually did the ‘circular neck’ motion as I read it.
lol.
Wow. Wow – people say this stuff to you? I don’t know what to say or do except what I usually do in the face of utter stupidity – bang my head against my keyboard. So, keyboard.
Sigh.
well, i was really disappointed that you didn’t fist bump me when we met.
umm, i just totally lied.
also, i just have to break it to you – i definitely grew up with a more Polish background than you. sorry.
oh my.
I sometimes get, “you don’t seem like an Asian.” I used to try to educate those idiots by pointing out that since I am Asian, then however it is I seem is one way that Asian people can be. Then they would disagree and tell me I should be more demure. So now I just say something like, “OH GOD, YOU JUST READ THE JOY LUCK CLUB, DIDN’T YOU?”
It’s funny and sad at the same time – talk about stereotype!
Just left you an award at the end of my most recent post. Check it out. I love your posts!
Brilliant.
It amazes me the stupidness of people. Daily. Great post!
LOL@ geekhiker.
Love the post girl!!! Soooo right on point. I haven’t had a friend say “off the cuff” things to me about my race but co-workers have. My supervisor told me once “You’re not like the other black people in the office… you actually don’t mind working” *blank stare*… oh… but she added the “no offense” at the end so I was totally cool with it after that (uhhhh yeah right!!!!)
Great post. Let’s get some ice cream at Brownie’s.