ohgeography:

You know, one of the things I’ve been ridiculed about by peers, family, and outsiders, is how I speak. To narrow it down, I was bullied about my race, not being my race, wanting better for myself, being a stereotype, not being a stereotype— seriously, fuck you.

You know, each time I see a rapper wear skinny jeans, Black celebrities sporting colorful dos,  or a Donald Glover types emerging— I honestly fist pump. Not because they’re a savior for me, I already do my thing, but they’re able to give another message (among many, for better or worse) to some other kids out there.

I see it as they’re making it publicly known that, yes, people of color can have various interests and tastes. I’m giving them a little more credit, but really, do you remember when you found whatever social niche that felt closest to home? I do. I’ll never forget it. It was really late at night, I was upset, all the R&B records in the world didn’t fit the hole in my head, and I was changing the radio. It was a school night, but I kept quiet as I changed the stations, pressing my body close to the wall in my room. Then I heard it. Like sticking a wet fork into a socket, I felt a shock just from hearing a progression of guitar chords I had never heard before. I stuck around and listened for more, there was static, and I moved the antenna. I listened for hours and each song just moved me. I heard my first Nirvana song that night, and Cobain crooned, “Hate me, do it, and do it again.” If you knew what that song meant to me, what the words did for me, what it felt like to skip lunches for a week and buy my first “alternative” record— 

We’re not limited to sitting on stoops or being profiled for crimes we didn’t do. We can shop at the same stores, hell, I can buy the same motherfucking scarf as someone. It shouldn’t mean a goddamn thing, but then, it does. 

I’m old enough to know I got where I was because I was bullied and fought to stay where I was, but I don’t think anyone should have to develop complexes over whether or not they will appear white because they prefer rock climbing to basketball. It’s an inside job, these restrictions and limitations, aren’t just society, but it’s shit we tell ourselves to maintain the hierarchy. 

I’m Black. African-American. Negro. Negrita, if you’re nasty, but you know, it isn’t going to change. I’m proud, all black everything, we do it the best. For me, I would never check anything else on the census. I don’t wake up in the morning thinking it’d be nicer if I were from x, because I don’t equate my happiness to my race or point of origin. I’m not trying to change it, any of it. I’m trying to change that we associate articulation and being “proper”  with white people. I’m trying to change that we associate power with white people.  I’m trying to change that we associate being educated with white people. 

As long as we give the power up, and shake our heads and create exclusionary devices, there will always be these once-in-a-blue-moon affirmative action success stories.  I want to break that system. I don’t want ballet to be a white girl thing, I want to see more children of color with pointe shoes. I don’t want the only thing keeping some kid from being the next Michael Phelps is because the swimming lessons at the YMCA are too steep a price, and besides ______ people don’t swim.

No, people who do not know how to swim, cannot fucking swim. 

12:57 am  •  6 October 2011  •  48 notes
#race #gender #this