I *Heart* Black

I love being black. I remember drilling that into my head when I was younger. For the simple fact that it was made apparent by other black folks *family, friends, hood rats* that I was everything but black. I guess since you can see my blue veins, and when I was a kid my hair was down to my ass. And black people just aren’t made like that. *wink*


My dad’s family on his mothers side totally ghetto. My grandmother died when my father was 7, so he was basically raised by his aunt, and my grandfather who was always away as a chef on the railroad. * I would like to think my Grandma was nothing like her sister *Anyway this aunt of mine..I was totally grossed out every time I went over there. Her house had the most pungent odor that I have smelled to date. She had roaches…. and bugs.. I hate bugs.. Then I had to eat over there. And get this..me and my cousins had to eat ALL of our food, before we could have anything to drink. Now that I think about it, that is child abuse. None the less I spent many days at her kitchen table crying because I couldn’t get up, while she sat and drank Martell and coffee..smoking Newport after Newport. I would tell my Daddy, and of course he probably went through the same treatment, so there wasn’t much he could do.

I recall one incident where her daughter Meon was outside at a picnic table cleaning catfish.*she has an eye that doesn’t quite look @ you, and is a little slow* I have tons of cousins and when I was at my aunts house I was never alone. That eased my pain somewhat. Anyway after seeing these scales flying off the table all day they expected me to eat the fish along with spaghetti. This day all of my older cousins, older sister, and dad were there, so they put the kids outside to eat. I was with my cousin Nikki *RIP* who was the daughter of Meon and who wasn’t quite right either. But that was my baby..she was a couple of months older than me, and we looked very similar. We were skinny tall little girls, with long thick ass hair. So we were leaning up against the car eating. Well I was attempting to eat. Then I started thinking of the conditions of where my meal was prepared, and the fish scales..and I just threw up!!! Yeah…pretty gross..

Even though my aunts house was in deplorable conditions and I hated eating there, and couldn’t fathom sleeping there..I still loved it because it made me feel black. They hung out in the front yard. They walked through the screen door. They played spades, smoked weed, and drank until early in the morning. My cousins knew all of the latest slang. And of course my Montessori ass was not in the mix at all until they filled me in. Sometimes they would mess with me and speak in the new terminology just to make me mad. I love the way we have our own language. If it weren’t for the Clark Family I wouldn’t be as fluent in African American Vernacular.
I had a couple of fun older cousins that would play games with us, that I know only black people play. ie smut, ni*** knock *where you knock on peoples doors and run* that was my favorite..stupid now that I think about it. But fun!!

So I bet your wondering about my momma nem’…Well my mother is totally pale. She has dusty brownish blonde hair. Her parents weren’t all the light, but my grandmother was a McCoy, and her siblings all had blue eyes. I’m guessing she got a lot of the McCoy genes. Anyway my grandmother being all educated and what not, and above being black, shunned anything away if it was too ethnic. Lawd forbid if I wanted to speak A.A.V over there. She wasn’t having it. My mother speaks very proper too, and when she would try to speak A.A.V..even though she’s better now..she still sounded a hott mess. I love my grandmother, but when I was younger I couldn’t understand how she could call the same people who were exactly like her nigger *or maybe not because they weren’t trying*. My aunt is convinced that my grandmother wanted to be white. I don’t know about that because she could have never passed. I just believe that she was extremely proud of making it..and she made sure that others knew that they hadn’t.

So yes my two family’s never hung out. EVER! I couldn’t image what that would have been like. My grandma would have been turning up her nose, and my dads family would have been talking crap about how my grandma thought she was all that.

Which brings me to this thought…there are so many different varieties of “black people” that can’t embrace each other. We are the only race that discriminates against each other.

“She act too white. She speak too proper.”

“He not black enough”. <<<<< What they say about Barack

I *heart* how we hardly ever make things plural when they need to be..

It is sooo hard to prove yourself in our community. It sickens me. But I will never turn my back on my race. Even though I believe if I wanted to represent another race..it would be possible. I get asked on a daily basis what I’m is..lol Get this..not even just by us. When I worked @ this particular club where a lot of Indians frequented they would come up to me speaking whatever they speak. And Mexican men always speak Spanish to me. I just laugh to myself.


I don’t think in my life time we will see any change within our community. Even though I KNOW it’s not totally our faults that we self hate, but it is on us to change it. I love the book “No Disrespect” by Sista Soljah it filled me in on how we were basically trained to be the way we are. But now it’s on us to fix what they broke…..