I’m expected to roll my neck and receive no respect because I’m expected to have tons of sass but hardly any class and my naturally curly kinky hair is something that I shouldn’t share with the world. Also, just because I’m black doesn’t mean I’m ignorant and unwilling to unpack controversial issues that affect everyone and not only my fellow blacks. So don’t think this is an “angry black girl” rant, but instead recognize that I just want a chance to make people aware that the things they see in the media aren’t always true because not all black women name their daughters after colors like—Blue. So while I might not be saying, “Ain’t nobody got time for that!” I am definitely not going to lie around like a muddied doormat continuously getting
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Unknowingly, I was about to encounter an experience that would change the way I viewed myself and my culture. However, procrastination quickly set in and instead of going to rearrange and track down my costumes, I instead slowly ambled towards the water fountain. I bobbed and weaved around the rambunctious group of laughing third graders, who were already in full costume and had decided to run down the hallway in their knickers and bloomers, looking like poster children for the 1900s. Their excitement was infectious as I was soon smiling to myself. As soon as the little kids passed, my younger brother, dressed in khakis, a yellow button down shirt, and suspenders proceeded to come up to me jibber jabbering about his basketball game. A look of disgruntlement and distaste flashed across my face as I gazed at my little brother’s face covered in light makeup, which unfortunately is a necessity for stage productions. After ignoring my look of revulsion, he proceeded to animatedly and excitedly ask, “You know how my team won the basketball game this …show more content…
Since I was half paying attention to my brother’s dramatic retelling of the game, I only caught a few words which included: layup, breaking ankles, and scored.
I vigorously nodded my head and absentmindedly responded, “Hmm” in order to further move along the conversation. Despite my lack of interest in my brother’s mumblings, I was soon brought out of my spaced out mentality by the extremely high energy and flamboyant, Hunt, who randomly stopped my brother and I in the hallway by stuttering, sputtering, and finally speaking, “Why do you not have a black accent?” As soon as Hunt‘s questions spilled from his mouth like a dam that had burst, self-doubt began to slowly creep and crawl its way into my mind.
Surprised by his forward question I unintelligibly mumbled, “Umm—er—hm—well,” while Jeremiah and I looked at each other with matching looks of incredulity, but soon shame began to replace my look of incredulity.
Unaware of my discomfort Hunt proceeded to dig himself a further hole by asking, “Why do you talk
Unknowingly, I was about to encounter an experience that would change the way I viewed myself and my culture. However, procrastination quickly set in and instead of going to rearrange and track down my costumes, I instead slowly ambled towards the water fountain. I bobbed and weaved around the rambunctious group of laughing third graders, who were already in full costume and had decided to run down the hallway in their knickers and bloomers, looking like poster children for the 1900s. Their excitement was infectious as I was soon smiling to myself. As soon as the little kids passed, my younger brother, dressed in khakis, a yellow button down shirt, and suspenders proceeded to come up to me jibber jabbering about his basketball game. A look of disgruntlement and distaste flashed across my face as I gazed at my little brother’s face covered in light makeup, which unfortunately is a necessity for stage productions. After ignoring my look of revulsion, he proceeded to animatedly and excitedly ask, “You know how my team won the basketball game this …show more content…
Since I was half paying attention to my brother’s dramatic retelling of the game, I only caught a few words which included: layup, breaking ankles, and scored.
I vigorously nodded my head and absentmindedly responded, “Hmm” in order to further move along the conversation. Despite my lack of interest in my brother’s mumblings, I was soon brought out of my spaced out mentality by the extremely high energy and flamboyant, Hunt, who randomly stopped my brother and I in the hallway by stuttering, sputtering, and finally speaking, “Why do you not have a black accent?” As soon as Hunt‘s questions spilled from his mouth like a dam that had burst, self-doubt began to slowly creep and crawl its way into my mind.
Surprised by his forward question I unintelligibly mumbled, “Umm—er—hm—well,” while Jeremiah and I looked at each other with matching looks of incredulity, but soon shame began to replace my look of incredulity.
Unaware of my discomfort Hunt proceeded to dig himself a further hole by asking, “Why do you talk