I didn't realize it, but I've always been an "other". Being biracial and a 3rd culture kid (a child that grew up in a place that is not their parents' native land), I've always felt that I belong wherever I am. At the same time, I've also always felt like an outcast. My sentiments are interesting polarities that have everything to do with perspective. I chose to accept everyone I've run into since I was unsure of where I fit in peoples' lives. If you know anything about me, you know I'm always smiling at people and go out of my way to make sure that people undoubtedly feel that they fit in my life. Naturally, this has attracted quite a few characters in my life. (An ex-boyfriend used to call me the Queen of the Misfits).
I've always strived to embrace my diversity, which wasn't as easy as I thought it would be when I moved to America. I didn't realize how segregated people were, but Brooklyn, New York and Atlanta, Georgia were not the melting pots I was used to. I often describe my experience here as being "sucked into a black hole." I never realized that although I may not put myself in a box...here, everyone is put in a box. I am a black woman. Simply. I may love alternative indie rock, but the hip hop radio station is where I'll get hired. My dad may have blue eyes and blonde hair, but my afro says that I am a black woman. I love my "white" church (they are methodist and liberal and awesome), but it's not like women there are hooking me up with their sons or brothers and my kids are the only black kids in Sunday school.
It was scary and alarming when I moved recently and all the schools were rated 2 out of 10, and there was not one "other" in my son's ENTIRE school. No white kids, no Mexicans, no Indians, no caucasians, although many beautiful shades of black babies. For me, this is very very different. I couldn't help but feel apprehensive of what this means for my child. I applied to all of these diverse kindergarten programs and wanted to make sure that my baby was exposed to ALL types of children, not just ones that look like him. But then, I experienced the Black History Program at my son's PreK...
Naturally, I was proud because my son delivered his lines with confidence and clarity and sang with the voice of an angel. However, I didn't expect to feel the pride I did for all of those children. I watched all the classes as they shared their dreams, recited their poetry, re-enacted the Rosa Parks story, sang inspirational songs, and taught the adults all the amazing contributions black people have made today and throughout history. It dawned on me the importance of all of these children and family members being able to share amongst "themselves" uninhibited. I finally understood why people would go to HBCUs and focus so much on black nationalism. Although I am still a strong believer that TOGETHER we can make bigger change than apart. I also see the importance of my American, black son KNOWING who he is and where he came from. It was just a few months ago that my son expressed that he didn't want to be a black man because he would be shot by police. I have a feeling, that if he was going to this school before, he would have had no doubt that he is BEAUTIFUL just the way he is. There is something liberating about being around people that relate to you. I see how my mother lights up when she is around her African friends and family. For me, it doesn't come that easy. Black women see me and wonder what I'm mixed with. But I do have a comfort zone, and that comes from the other 3rd culture kids I grew up with. The question now is, do I keep pushing so hard to create this world that worked for me for my kiddos? Or do I TRULY continue to embrace everyone as my own, so no matter what situation, neighborhood, or school my babies and I stumble upon, we will enjoy and take in EVERYTHING it has to offer.
I've always strived to embrace my diversity, which wasn't as easy as I thought it would be when I moved to America. I didn't realize how segregated people were, but Brooklyn, New York and Atlanta, Georgia were not the melting pots I was used to. I often describe my experience here as being "sucked into a black hole." I never realized that although I may not put myself in a box...here, everyone is put in a box. I am a black woman. Simply. I may love alternative indie rock, but the hip hop radio station is where I'll get hired. My dad may have blue eyes and blonde hair, but my afro says that I am a black woman. I love my "white" church (they are methodist and liberal and awesome), but it's not like women there are hooking me up with their sons or brothers and my kids are the only black kids in Sunday school.
It was scary and alarming when I moved recently and all the schools were rated 2 out of 10, and there was not one "other" in my son's ENTIRE school. No white kids, no Mexicans, no Indians, no caucasians, although many beautiful shades of black babies. For me, this is very very different. I couldn't help but feel apprehensive of what this means for my child. I applied to all of these diverse kindergarten programs and wanted to make sure that my baby was exposed to ALL types of children, not just ones that look like him. But then, I experienced the Black History Program at my son's PreK...
Naturally, I was proud because my son delivered his lines with confidence and clarity and sang with the voice of an angel. However, I didn't expect to feel the pride I did for all of those children. I watched all the classes as they shared their dreams, recited their poetry, re-enacted the Rosa Parks story, sang inspirational songs, and taught the adults all the amazing contributions black people have made today and throughout history. It dawned on me the importance of all of these children and family members being able to share amongst "themselves" uninhibited. I finally understood why people would go to HBCUs and focus so much on black nationalism. Although I am still a strong believer that TOGETHER we can make bigger change than apart. I also see the importance of my American, black son KNOWING who he is and where he came from. It was just a few months ago that my son expressed that he didn't want to be a black man because he would be shot by police. I have a feeling, that if he was going to this school before, he would have had no doubt that he is BEAUTIFUL just the way he is. There is something liberating about being around people that relate to you. I see how my mother lights up when she is around her African friends and family. For me, it doesn't come that easy. Black women see me and wonder what I'm mixed with. But I do have a comfort zone, and that comes from the other 3rd culture kids I grew up with. The question now is, do I keep pushing so hard to create this world that worked for me for my kiddos? Or do I TRULY continue to embrace everyone as my own, so no matter what situation, neighborhood, or school my babies and I stumble upon, we will enjoy and take in EVERYTHING it has to offer.