Two Sides to Every Story

Hello, all my readers! Can you believe the winter holidays are almost upon us? First, Turkey Day, then, Christmas and finally, New Years! Bust out the celebrations. I am, definitely, ready to eat, party and just have fun. However, that is not the topic of my blog post today. My last two posts, Standing in No Man's Land, discussed the discrimination mixed children faced (while touching somewhat on the problems of being single race). This time I want to tell the other side of the story. Yes, mixed children can be discriminated against and suffer through identity issues, but (as shown in my story) sometimes that discrimination can stem from jealousy, insecurity and most important another form of discrimination (the mother's preference between Amon and his brother).



With the holidays coming up so fast, I can't help, but think back to the past holiday seasons. One particular Thanksgiving memory sticks out in my mind. I was young. Maybe eleven or twelve. With every holiday my family gets into lively and loud discussions on a variety of topics from politics, religion, society and even the paranormal (let's save that for another blog post). This particular Thanksgiving, my grandmother decided to add another topic into the discussion pool: how mixed kids are better than single race children.

She started it slowly. Making a few "innocent" comments here and there. Then, when she saw the lane was clear, she took off. That night this is what I learned from my grandmother...

Mixed kids always do better in school. They are smarter than single race children.
People always try to put them down, but they always succeed.
They do very well in sports.
They're always very attractive.
Many leaders of the world are mixed which proves how good they are.
They perform the best in business.
They are good speakers.
They are always the underdogs. They are always the victims, but they will always come out on top.

If she only knew, that that night she had made me the victim.

The twelve year old me sat silently at the table, unable to believe my ears. Hearing these words from a woman I respected, a woman who was suppose to love me broke my young heart. She was, in terms of age, the leader of our family so, what she said was always true. If she was telling me that mixed children (my cousins) were better than me, simply because they were mixed, then it must be true. Her words were law, right? She was my grandmother so, she would never lie to me, right? Which meant that I would never be as good as my cousins. I would never be as beautiful as them. I would never be as smart. I would never be as popular. I would never and could never do as well as them in life. That was the fact of life I was suppose to live by.

Prior to this event, I already had suspicions about the preference my cousins received from my family members, my friends and even complete strangers. When my grandmother spoke those words that night, my suspicions were solidified. I was the lowly black dog. They were high beautiful royals. My chocolate skin could never stand in comparison to their much better tan complexion. My kinky curls were a disgrace to their silky spirals. I was a blemish on their "oh, so perfect world."

When confronted with the low expectations and feelings of another, you have three choices. You can get upset, angry, sad and chose to do nothing, but walk around with those negative emotions. You can have all those same feelings and decide to live up to the low expectations given to you. Or you can have all those feelings and decide to prove, all those who doubt you, wrong. I chose the third option. Yes, I was angry, pissed and hurt that my grandmother, while speaking so highly of my cousins could simultaneously speak so lowly of me. I wanted to prove her wrong. I wanted to prove to her that I was good enough. No, I wanted to prove that I was better than my mixed cousins and all the mixed people in the world. I wanted to do better than them in every aspect of my life. But what was I trying to be good enough for? My grandmother's love, acceptance and admiration. I wanted her to speak about me the way she spoke about my cousins. So, for several years, I walked around with these bad feelings as my motivation. I did well in school, I participated in sports and even made varsity volleyball. I was active in clubs and won several scholarships so, that college was extremely inexpensive for me. I worked, saved and bought my own car before most of my cousins even had a license.

The thing about bad feelings is that they, eventually, start eating you up inside. These feelings had turned into this dark monster that ate up all the joy in my life. I was full of hate, sadness and I would have to struggle with this monster for nearly a decade until I tamed it and moved on. There was just one day when I realized that no matter how hard I tried I would never be good enough in the eyes of my grandmother. She was programmed from living before and during the Civil Rights Movement to embrace being an African American, while also subconsciously believing that lighter skin is superior. I could never undo her brainwashing. She could not be deprogrammed, but I started working, not for her, but for my own success. Yes, part of me still wanted to show the world what I could do (that I was good enough), but even more than that, I wanted to show myself what I could do because I knew I was good enough. These feelings, I just expressed, are the same feelings Amon's brother in Standing in No Man's Land felt. They are the
same feelings many single race kids, particularly black children, feel. Until next time.

Your Turn: I want to hear from you guys! Have you ever felt discriminated against because of your skin color? Where did this discrimination come from? Friends, family, strangers? Do you think what I described above is a common reality? Let me know. I would love to hear from you. :)