put me on ice

(Source: berlineiscool)

           Part II-Discovering I was Black

 When I was born my daddy was excited. He was thrilled with the fact that he had a baby girl dark like him. You see my sister is lighter than him, me and my two brothers. My mom says it’s on account of she dug deep and got her genes from our Indian side. Her being so light caused my dad to question rather or not she was his. Which when told by my momma was the stupidest thing every since she looked just like him. Cue my birth and the doctors hold up a perfectly black baby. It was no guessing my ethnicity.

            I remember when it first happened. Me KNOWING I was black. It sounds kind of funny now when I say it…when I type it. But it’s true. I was in the second grade and my life was good. I was innocent and nothing really mattered. I was a smart kid (hell I still am) always made straight A’s in everything. Well this year, each 9 weeks I would have all A’s and one B. In reading, my favorite class, my favorite thing to do, my life. I remember being so disappointed in me. I would be the only one in the class to miss all A’s my one B. I could never fathom why this would happen. So I just made it my business to try harder next time. And the time after that but I could never drop the B in reading.

            I believe mothers offer clarity, guidance, knowledge. My mother was able to access the situation very easily. You see I never paid attention to my teacher’s skin color; or rather I paid attention to it but paid it no mind. Because I did notice it every day, how pale it was, the contrast of her red lipstick, which made her the spitting image of Snow White. I use to stare at her in awe of how pure she looked. This turn of events prompted my Mother to sit down and have the “talk” with me. This is not to be confused with the “talk” pertaining to sex…in fact I don’t think I ever got that one beside the whole sex is bad, save your body for your husband. No the talk I received was the talk most black kids got at one point in your childhood. Some got it every year around February. This talked explained why we (black kids) could never really try to get away with some things, why we always had to do better, try harder, excel harder than our lighter counterparts. Yep, my mom gave me the race talk.  Even when she explained intricately my situation I half listened, resolving that she just had old woman problems and that was not the case, no I would just have to try harder. Well the last semester came, and after doing every assignment, get high scores on everything, I still got a B in reading. My mom wanted to talk to the teacher, but I wouldn’t let her. I didn’t want to find out if what she thought was happening was true. I just wanted to continue to live in my bubble that hard work will get you anywhere.

It wasn’t until the beginning of third grade that I realized I was still affected by what happened. My sister and mother had just chosen a book bag for me to wear to school, it had a solid shiny black background, with animated animals and glitter…yep I had a Lisa Frank book bag. My sister handed it to me and I remember looking at the picture of the little girl on the logo…then snatching it off. I then handed it to my sister and informed her that “ I didn’t need no white girl on my bookbag.” My sister just looked at me speechless. That was the first time I KNEW I was black. I was always black but I didn’t really know what that meant until second grade. It meant I had to try harder than most kids, it meant knowing that if Billy pulled the fire alarm he was just being a boy and having fun, but if I pulled it, I was bad with no home training, a statistic. There were always signs that I was black, that I was treated like I was black, but I never paid attention to them. It’s funny how you can be something but never really know until an incident happens.

I love how she justs nods at the yellow card

Which distracted the shit out of me and my ranting. I can’t be productive right now. Sometimes I think i could do some pretty great shit if I didn’t get distracted easily. It didn’t help that I seen a post about noodle…so now I have an undying craving for them. Which is good since before then I kept seeing naked females and was getting horny…at least I can satisfy my hunger. 

I don’t know rather to post all three parts when I’m done or post the three parts separately. I might do it separately so it won’t be too much to read. I decided to start writing down my thoughts so I won’t forget them. And so I can remember how I felt when shit happened. I titled it BEcoming Me: Triple Threat. It’s not about my life as an African American, or my life a bisexual, or being a woman. It’s about me learning who I am and how the world perceived me. I needed to be productive while waiting for this tropical storm to pass. 

Well I really don’t know where I stand with her. We went out to eat on our first “date” (long story as to why it’s in parentheses) and she told me about herself. Basically if you asked her last year in December rather she liked girls she would tell you no. Then earlier this year she thought she was asexual and now she’s a lesbian. The thing is I really like her so I don’t care if she is a lesbian or asexual (I would say straight but that kind of excludes me but I guess if it makes her happy). I just don’t know how to tread around her. And I tried subtly asking her what did she like for people she “talked” to, to do. She said she had no clue she never really dated before so it’s strange for her. I then told her the only reason I asked because I wanted to know how she felt about pda and crap. It’s weird you think you are aware and shit of things in life but when it involves you it’s totally different. Like I thought I understood asexuality but now that I may like a girl who maybe asexual I really started looking into it. For example, I touch her less because I feel she won’t enjoy it. Other girls I dated I do a lot of touching on dates. I know the lack of touching on her part may be because I’m the first girl she dated. OMG and it doesn’t help that I don’t know if we are talking or dating or what. Like this girl is hard to read. In person I can get a pretty good read but over text or on the phone..horrible. lol. I don’t want to scare her away..but I kind of get the feeling she is waiting for me to make all the moves. Which scares me because I don’t know her intentions. Grrrrrr she’s amazing, her personality is epic, she’s smart and we click I just don’t want to mess this up. 

S/N- we shared a kiss it was one nervous kiss but still an epic one. I wanted another one but I’m treading lightly. 

(Source: h0llip0p)