I'm having an identity crisis.
I was eating dinner and watching TV with my mother and she started talking about how she used to be when she was younger and my face began to terribly scrunch up. She mentioned how readily she would physically fight someone and in my opinion, physical confrontation between females is the most trashy epidemic I have yet to encounter. So I thought about my dad and all the things I learned about his character over winter break and they all seemed to reflect that same kind of misfortune (for lack of a better word). And then I said to myself, "Thank God those habits aren't genetic. I'd surely be doomed." And that's really how I feel. I asked my boyfriend if he thinks ghetto people know there's something wrong with them. He said no, and then I said "That was bad of me to say. The fact that I don't agree with it doesn't make it 'wrong'. I don't agree with your people's shenanigans either but I tolerate it more because you're really cute and whatever bad things people say about white people shenanigans doesn't make people judge me for something I'm not. But you white people are so effing judgmental."
So that's where we are now. Except the part where my boyfriend almost drove me up a wall asking me these retarded questions because he couldn't possibly understand my train of thought right now. But I don't expect him to, and it doesn't change how I feel about him because he doesn't. And now I'm questioning a lot of things but I don't have answers, so perhaps I'll just talk about them.
My mommy was 3 years old when Martin Luther King Jr. delivered his "I Have A Dream Speech." That says something about how things were when she was growing up. I've heard her call a lot of white people "racist" and talk about how she's felt discriminated against in the past. I shake my head at it all because I don't want to believe any of it. I want to believe she's victimizing herself more than any of her "oppressors" have. I heard a lot of "white people are this" and "white people do that" throughout my younger years: none of it positive or encouraging. My favorite to this day is still "Crystal, as an African-American, you'll have to work harder to succeed... simply because of the color of your skin." But I bet you can tell it all went in one ear and out the other. My first best friend was white. My boyfriend is white. I'll be the first one to tell you, I love white people! But I don't want that to come to mean that I don't have that same love for black people. Lest I've surely become an exact replica of the very thing I hate.
People call me white a lot because I am more closely identified with the generalizations given to white people than the generalizations given to black people. That used to be highly annoying and equally offensive, but I let myself get defeated and I too have begun describing my incongruent inclinations as "white". My appreciation for music doesn't stop at R&B and hip-hop. I'd rather express myself in a grammatically correct manner. I am deathly attracted to white males. But contrary to popular belief, I LOVE being black and I know that my black is beautiful. I look in the mirror and I think "Wow, I am such a pretty color." I adore my skin tone. I like to shake my butt and I appreciate not having to work hard to be on beat or dance or clap. My hair consumes a lot of time and money and sometimes I don't want to do everything it takes to maintain it, but I love it. I like soul food and I'm thoroughly convinced my life would not be the same without it. I like for my food to have flavor. Bite me. I... have... a... donk... AND I LOVE IT. I'm happy with my figure and I wouldn't change it for the world. I'm very well trained in the art of Ebonics and some of it's terms are just down right fun.
So maybe I've exclaimed my affection for white people more often than I've meagerly whispered the acceptance of my people because I don't want to be judged. And it doesn't bother me to be black, it bothers me for other people to be black and not carry their ethnicity as respectfully as I carry mine.
You know, there isn't much difference between "redneck" and "ghetto", save the demographics of the people who claim the two labels. And white people will deny the similarities to the death of them, but can you blame them? "Ghetto" has such a negative connotation, but white people scream redneck with all the pride they can muster. And why is that? I'll leave that one up to you. It's 2012, what am I talking about race relations for? Well because in 2012 I have people saying I shouldn't be with my boyfriend because we aren't the same color. And in 2010 that same boyfriend of mine told me to my face that he would never date a black girl.
These thoughts and even the fact that I'm having to sort out these thoughts are such evidence of the evil in this world. I'm sure God meant for people to be people. I wish different skin tones were as looked over as different hair or eye colors. Black History Month? What is that? Black history is American history. I wish people could just be people.
Writing this has helped me understand that I like what I like and it actually has very little to do with my race or the race of others. My race doesn't define me, and I won't ever be able to define my race. I remember who I am and the reasons why I am that person. I'll work hard to not forget ever again.
