So, I'm sitting at work right...and this guy comes up to me and says "Say shorty (I hate being called "shorty") whats your race?" I reply..."Don't call me shorty, and I am mixed." I figured he'd ask with what, then go about his buisness. But he didn't. He then has the nerve to say "You think you black, huh?" Now, HOLD UP.... let us rewind that moment. Did this ignorant neggro really just say that to me? Who exactly does he think he is? I reply. "I am black, in a sense. What does it matter?" He then says "But you're not black. You're white. I mean, no offense (To late, I'm offended) But you look like a white girl just trying to play the role." Mind you it is 4 o'clock in the AM. I am on maybe 4 hours of sleep, and I AM AT WORK. I bite my tounge before I scream, take a deep breath and interupt him with "If you don't mind me interupting you misconstrued analysis of who I AM, and the role YOU THINK I am playing. Let me let you know just because my skin pigmentation isn't exactly what you would consider "black" doesn't make me any less than what I am. And how dare you come to me and accuse me of "playing a role" while I was simply standing her minding my own buisness. At my job. When I bleed I bleed red, when you bleed you bleed red, but I guess you'll try and find a way to argue that you're more human than I am too, right?" He looks at me like I'm crazy now. Usually I don't let peoples ignorance get to me, but like I said. I haven't had much sleep. I'm tired. I've been at work all night, and I am just NOT in the mood. This is starting to become a never ending cycle with people though. It is 2009, seriously! Are we that close minded even today, in this day of age that we still feel it is a we need to make people feel as though the have to prove who they are by the color of their skin? Because I have a fair complextion, that makes me less than who I am? Because you don't agree and I don't stand in comparrison to what you think a black woman is I am less then that of my ancestors? I don't usually say this but "NIGGA PLEASE!"
My father is Hatian. With a beautiful chocolate brown complextion. My mother is a beautiful creole queen with the blood of Louisiana bred slaves running through her veins. So I'll be damned if I let someone judge who and what I am by the brightness of my skin. I am proud of every race, heritage and belief running through my veins and my soul. I AM ME.
Black, Indian, French, Hatian, Yellow, Brown, White, American.
Hate on it, cause in the morning, I'll still be exactly who I was.
You'll be green with envy.
Now who's blacker?
UGK, sorry I had to vent.
I really don't like dumb people.
I'm going my ass home and to bed now.
Peace and Love
2 Love Notes:
I just came across your blog and I like what I see :) I love your playlist by the way.
I absolutely HATE the 'whatchu mixed with' question/pickup line/inquisition....I can't help but roll my eyes at it and I never answer back. I feel like people are rarely asking out of pure curiosity or interest. This country still has a long way to go when it comes to identity and equality.
Hey chick a dessss, yeah I wanted to throw a fucking basket at his melon dome. I have always dealt with the "so what you mixed with" lines, and it's truly ignorance. Ever since I was young I have always wondered exactly "What does it matter?" Ya' know, if my african american percentage exceedes my indian by 4% I'm still me, I am still a bi-racial woman.
I told my supervisor about it, (he's mixed) and he laughed and said "I know how you feel, I deal with it too.) He said it's actually harder for men, cause in some ways he needs to prove more that he is "down for his brothas" We actually had a really uplifting conversation about it. The guy was just a customer, so hopefully he'll pick a different store next time.
And Miss Angie baby, thank you mama. Glad you enjoy what you see, and you have wonderful taste in music. ;)
You guys are great, but ya'll know that.
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