Being Black

I love being black. I love everything about it. Now I am not the darkest sista or even the most knowledgeable about black history, but I do embrace the African Diaspora every chance I get. I actually don’t own a dashiki but I have some African jewelry and a Malcolm X “by any means necessary” t-shirt. I have also in my 43 years on this earth had felt my share of racism. When I was about 6 or 7 a neighbor told me I was a beautiful mulatto child. I was thrilled, thinking I learned some foreign word for pretty or beautiful. I thought it was a cool word. When I repeated what the man said to me to Mom she starts hollering and I get a whoopin’ and sent upstairs for cussing in her house. Took me years to find out what a mulatto was and why it was bad. Once while my oldest son and I were in Whole Foods here in Seattle, a white woman mistook Alexander as my husband. When corrected she stated “You know what Oprah says…Good black don’t crack”. I wanted to kick her lily white trailer park ass, but then I would have perpetrated the black myth that we are always hostile (although being Peggy’s daughter you have to be). Alexander who now attends Morehouse tells me he gets questions about his hair constantly, if he grows it out. Like a brother can’t have a curly fro. And if I chose to flat iron my hair people wonder if I am indeed black or black enough. Must we continue to explain why some of us are light and some dark? Why some of our hair grows long and lush and other not grow whatsoever? I can hope not. Bob always comes home with stories from work about the white men in lower positions than him questioning whether they really have to do what he, their boss, ask of them. I cannot tell you the frustration he feels every day. Luckily he is one of the happiest persons in the world. Adam Jordan discovered the positive effects of being black while in France. He was telling me how he is popular because he is black. For once is blackness is advantage over in Europe. He said for once he didn’t have to think about being black before he stepped out to go to the bars or restaurants. He even went to the so called “ghetto” and felt totally safe among the Africans and Arabs, whereas, others in his party were frighten. He even mentioned how popular Obama is over there. Amazing. We are still feeling the racism left over from slavery and all we can do is hope that it will ease when Obama wins this election. But that is the thing about being black I think I love the most is the fact that because of the racism we have learned to overcome so many obstacles. Something white folks will never understand.I have learned to fight the public school system when they wanted to demote my genius certified son in junior high school. I have learned to ignore the stares and questions of people who want to play the “what is she” game. I have learned to be proud of the great-great grandparents who were slaves but smart enough to buy some land in North Carolina. Being black has made me strong, come what may. I have an adopted brother, TSwept, who has a saying: “I love being black; but sometimes it is so inconvenient”. I have to say I agree.