I am not my hair or my skin, I’m me!

I’d been talking to this guy for a few days. He was really sweet, kind and intelligent. It was too early to tell where it would go so we were still feeling each other out. He asked me what music I liked, and I replied, “Oh, right now I really like the Misterwives!”. His face wrinkled and his eyebrows furrowed. I explained to him that they were a band. He still didn’t seem to understand. This happens a lot. The other popular topic is why do I wear my hair the way I do. Then of course my favorite, why I talk the way I do.

I have no shame in any of my background. I was raised by my grandparents who held a high focus for education and standard. I went to a predominantly white private school from kindergarten through high school and now college. I think my best friend is a beautiful individual inside and out, and she just so happens to be white. I’ve dated guys outside of my race, and I’ve played on sport teams with girls of all varieties. Of course I’m going to like the music I’m surrounded with, of course being raised in the way I was my way of speaking would be different. But I am not any less black, I don’t want to be. I love my skin and my hair and even my nose. I love how my hair curls when it gets wet. I love my eyes that look like my grandmother’s.

Going to college it has been a very weird spectrum to fit in. The other black girls tell me I’m not black enough or I’m too white or just weird. They would exclude me or simply act like I wasn’t there when I said hello. They’d pick at me for having a “white” name. There is a race barrier everywhere even in my own race.I am so happy to be comfortable in my own skin and accepting of myself. I’ve met some wonderful friends who love me for who I am and everything has been wonderful and I cannot wait to meet other individuals who like em for who I am. I


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