The color of my skin shouldn’t place a target on my back.
But I love being black more than ever.
Our community is truly like no other.
Friday, May 29, 2020, I sat in my room for hours, went for several walks to clear my head, cuddled with my dog, napped, scrolled through social media, napped again because everything made me so mentally exhausted and emotionally drained... but I really thought about how for 20 years, my family has been the only black family, not only on my street, but in my WHOLE NEIGHBORHOOD. When we moved to our house in 2000, our street was pretty diverse. Out of 17 houses on our street, 3 were black owned. Then the 2 families moved within 3 years of living there... then, it was just us.
So I started thinking. I thought- What if, one day, someone either living in the neighborhood or an outsider vandalized our house. I wondered which one of my neighbors would be the first one to try to protect us. I also thought about which one of my neighbors would look the other way and close their blinds. I wondered which one of my neighbors would be outside our house cleaning up the damages before my parents and I even noticed. I have an idea who would help, but I will never know until the day happens. Which I hope never sees the light of day.
Like most black people in the United States, I have had my share of racism directed at me. I know when I was younger, I dealt with microaggressions and of course, to this day, I still do. We all do. Examples include-
"I'm not racist. I have several black friends."
"You are so pretty for a black girl."
"You're the whitest black person I know."
"You're so articulate."
"Is that all your real hair?"
"No, where are you really from?"
Story time: I grew up in a predominately white area so therefore, I went to a predominately white school. It could have started earlier, but I think my big encounter with racism was in 5th grade. That was my second year in public school after leaving a private Christian school. I was the only black girl in my class. Truth be told, I was the only black kid in my class. I wasn't quite used to that yet. When I went to private school, I had at least 5 other black kids in my class. But let me tell you, once I finished 5th grade, I was used to being the only black kid anywhere.
Disclaimer: I’m not going to mention anyone’s name in this. Some will read this who know me and can remember when situations happened and can guess who the person is… Some will read this and will just know who the person is. Some will read this and not have any clue who anyone is. Also, I'm sorry for the language. Tried to keep it PG-13 at least.
From the 1st day of 5th grade, I felt singled out by my teacher. I remember her asking everyone how their summer was and to explain one thing they did that excited them. Everybody threw their hand up in the air to get called on. Instead of just going around the classroom and letting each child go one by one down the row, she called on kids at random. Which was also fine. So a kid went, then she called on another, then she called on another… and so on.
Wait! To give you a better picture of this. I know whoever is around my age will know and the older/younger people might have to look it up, but remember on "That's so Raven", the episode where Raven and Chelsea get a job at that store in the mall and the manager was a racist white woman? I kid you not, that white woman looks EXACTLY like my 5th grade teacher. Whoever was in my 5th grade class or know who my 5th grade teacher was... ya'll can testify on that if you want.
Now… it’s down to a white girl, an Asian boy and me, a black girl. Guess who went first? The white girl, correct!!! Then the Asian boy. Then, I made eye contact with my 5th grade teacher because it was my turn. I shit you not, she looked dead into my eyes and said “So who’s excited for 5th grade?!” The smile on my innocent 10-year-old face quickly went away and I just remember sitting there at my desk wondering why I never had the chance to explain my one thing that excited me that past summer. I was so prepared to tell the class that I spent a week at overnight camp with my two best friends.
The next several months of the year were a bit crazy, to say the least. A LOT of nonsense went down between the teacher, principal and my parents. “Apparently” my behavior wasn’t up to par (whatever that means.) But by the grace of God, guess what happened? My 5th grade teacher went on maternity leave. Ya’ll don’t know how happy I was to know I was not going to see her anymore for the rest of the year. The rest of my 5th grade year went by smoothly. I adored my long-term substitute. She was great. Literally a breath of fresh air. Now tell me how all of a sudden, my behavior in school “magically” became better. I had absolutely no issues with my long-term substitute. I was never told to take a walk around the school to “cool down” or “take a breather.” I was never told that I couldn’t go outside for recess. I was never told to go to the principal’s office. I was never forced to go to the guidance counselor’s office.
(I was sent there A LOT, my goodness. I received so many stress balls, did so many mental exercises, even spent some of my lunches in there.) I’m not going to say I didn’t enjoy going to the guidance counselor almost everyday. (It definitely made me leave the toxic classroom, at least.)
But what I didn’t like, was that most of the time, my guidance counselor and I would just sit there because I, honestly, don’t even think she knew why I was forced to visit her so much. But never once did we talk about the color of my skin, I know that for sure. Or my home life.
Anyway, fast-forward to 5th grade graduation. Everything was going swell. Until I walked in the gymnasium with my class and saw my original 5th grade teacher on the sidelines. I was like “….what the… you have got to be kidding me?! Today?!? You’re going to show up on my special day!?!? Well I’m not talking to you!! How about that?!” (I was 11, don’t judge the words that came to my head. If it was now, I would have had some choice words.)
Anyhow, the graduation ceremony happened and now we are all back in the classroom celebrating. Here this lady comes in with her baby and giving everyone a hug. She had the audacity to come to me and say “Congratulations Dionna!” and proceeded to give me a hug. I remember looking at her baby after the hug and said to her “You have a cute baby” and walked away to never see her again. At the end of the day, I know my class was her last class ever and now she is living in New York as a yoga instructor (Yeah, I found her on Facebook.) Although, I am pretty sure when I was in middle school, I saw her at the mall. I saw a woman that looked just like her with a possibly 3 year old boy. It would make sense if it was her, but I turned around so fast just in case if it was her.
6th grade was my next incident. It all happened so fast that I don’t have this huge story behind it. But I remember I was walking to my locker with my friend to grab our lunches. This boy walked by us and said the N-word to us. My friend is black, by the way. She looked at me and said “Did he just call us that?” I said “I heard it.” We turned around and went to our most trusted teacher that year. She was shook! Her aide came over and said “What happened?!” We told her what happened. They both looked at each other, then they both looked at us. The look on their faces told me they were going to do something about it. I could see the sorrow. I could see the pain. I could see their cheeks getting crimson red. I don’t quite remember what his consequence was for calling us that, but he, of course, still went to school there. Ended up graduating high school with us (I think).
8th grade history class wasn't racism, per se. But I didn't like the feeling I had. Long story short, we were discussing Black history. My teacher brought up the NAACP. She asked the class what NAACP stands for. Once again, I am the only black kid in the class. The whole time after she asked that, she is looking at me. I knew why she was looking at me. I'm the only black kid in the class, yes I know what the NAACP stands for, but you can scan the room and then look at me to answer. I felt like the spokesperson for black history that day. She kept asking me questions and part of me was happy to answer, but part of me had enough.
Next up: 11th grade. English class. My friend sat behind me and we were having downtime in the class so we were just talking. She showed me a text on her phone. When she left the message thread, it went to the screen where you can see all the people she texted. I texted her about a hour earlier so naturally my name was close to the top. But it didn’t say my name. Instead of saying my name or a funny nickname, it said “Nigger _____.” I can’t remember what the second word was, but I remember the first word and that’s the important part. I asked her “umm what is that?” She said, “Oh my gosh, no no **** changed your name to that! I didn’t do that!!!” **** was her boyfriend. I said “You didn’t think to change it back to my name?” She said, “You’re right. I am so sorry. I will change it back right now. It happened literally before this class and I put my phone away and I promise you I was going to change it back.” I turned around and just sat in silence until the end of class.
Needless to say, I walked straight to the assistant principal’s office after class and explained the whole story. He got on his computer and typed in the boy’s name and his school picture popped up. He said, “Is this him?” I said, “Yes.” He said, “I’ll handle it from here.” I got up and left. I do regret not telling him my friend’s name, but I remember being so upset that I couldn’t think straight. I also think I believed her story at the time. But I did know for a fact that her boyfriend was racist so I think that was my only care at that moment. But I know, I know. I should have said something about her too.
Once word reached **** that he was receiving In-School Suspension for 2 days, I received a LONGGGGGGGGGGGG message from him apologizing and begging me to ask the asst. principal to not give him ISS.
“Boyyyyyyy if you don’t get. All you received were 2 days of ISS. That’s nothing. You’ll survive.” And you’ll never believe what happened? He survived. Incredible. Who would have thought?
Also another boy played a role in that situation. I can't remember what happened, but all I know is he also received ISS. It's a bit foggy. When I tell you I couldn't think straight, I mean that.
Time to go to college. I have never seen so many confederate flags in my life at school. In the windows of houses/dorms, on license plates and in the back of their pick-up trucks flying around... so so many. Sophomore year, I remember walking along the main street in Shippensburg with a few of my friends and a car drove by, rolled down his window and yelled, "Hey Niggers" and then sped off. Part of us were shocked, part of us weren't surprised. Shippensburg is one hell of a town, I can tell you that.
Another sophomore year story. Okay for this story, I'm using names because it's just easier. My friends and I were driving to Walmart one night. There were 4 of us in the car. We're all black. My friend, Morgan, who was driving, gets pulled over. One friend, Preston, was in the passenger seat and my friend, Kayla and I were in the back seat. The cop comes up to Morgan's window asking for her license and registration. Then another cop came to the passenger side and asked for all of our ID's as well. Scared the hell out of us because we didn't see him coming at all. We didn't know our rights. We didn't know we could have declined. But we gave him our ID's. I didn't have my license with me, I just had my school ID. (The reason I didn't have my license was because I knew that if I brought my wallet with me, I was going to buy something at the store... and I had no intention of spending money. I have an issue that if I see something I want, I will buy it. No questions asked. No matter the price. I've become A LOT better with my spending habits throughout the years, thankfully.)
Back to the story, I gave him my school ID. Thankfully, that proved and vouched that I attended the school we all said we were from. I remember the one cop asking Morgan if she attends Shippensburg University. First of all, how are you going to ask her that when she has a bumper sticker on her car saying "Ship Happens". Guess it was alarming to see 4 black young adults in a BMW. Morgan also had to tell them that she was a Resident Assistant just for her protection. I can't remember if she drove away with a warning or if she received a ticket, but I do remember the feeling we all had driving away.
Alright, next up. Junior year of college. Here we go… this one is the one that gets me heated. September 2016. It was about 3 am. I was having a pretty rough night so I called someone who I thought would calm me down. Which resulted in my blood pressure rising. That someone didn’t pick up the phone. I called again. Didn’t pick up. Then I realized it was 3 am. “Yeahhhhh. I would be sleeping too”, I said to myself. So I put my phone on the charger and tried to fall asleep. “Nope. I’m calling again”, I told myself. So I did. And oooooh baby, I should not have called again. His roommate (also his best friend since Kindergarten) picks up the phone. (Just putting it out there- The situation that you are about to read makes my blood boil.)
N: Hello?
Me: Hello…?
N: Why are you calling?
Me: Wait… what?
N: Why are you calling *******?
Me: Can you just put ******* on the phone please? I’m pretty sure I called ******* and not you.
N: He’s sleeping.
Me: Then why are you answering his phone?
(This is when it starting getting hostile)
N: I can answer his phone whenever I want, bitch. (Hangs up)
I call back.
N: Stop calling.
Me: Put ******* on the phone.
N: No bitch, I’m not putting him on the phone. You’re crazy. (Hangs up)
He then texts me.
******* (but in reality it’s N): You’re a bitch. Stop bothering him. Don’t call back ever. Don't even text back.
I call again.
He declines.
I call again.
He declines.
(This goes on for about 10 more times).
I call.
He finally answers.
N: Listen here, you nigger bitch. ******* is sitting right next to me and he is fine with me telling you all this. He doesn’t love you. He doesn’t want you. Just leave. (Hangs up).
Now I’m pissed. Because now I’m thinking that the person I called to calm me down is condoning this.
10 minutes later, I receive a call.
Oh look, it’s from *******. (But I’m thinking it’s N. So I don’t pick up.)
Calls again. I don’t pick up.
Calls again. I don't pick up.
Calls again. I pick up.
Me: What?
*******: What happened?
Me: (Shocked to hear *******'s voice) What do you mean what happened? You were sitting right there.
*******: Huh? I was in my bed sleeping.
Me: Don’t lie to me. N said you were sitting right next to him.
*******: I promise you I am in my bed. I left my phone in the living room and N just came in and threw it at me and told me to call you.
Me: (Sobbing on the phone)
*******: What’s wrong? What happened?
Me: Your so called “friend”, called me a nigger bitch.
*******: What?
Me: Your. Friend. Called me. A. Nigger. Bitch.
*******: Ugh, why would he do that?
Me: I don’t know?????? Like what?
*******: Eh, just forgive him and forget about it. He’s drunk. I’m drunk.
Me: No I’m not just going to forgive him and I’m definitely not going to forget about it. Drunk or not. He said what he said.
I won’t continue the conversation, but just know, it didn’t end too pretty.
Fast-forward to December 2016, I get an apology from N. But wait.. I get an apology from him through *******’s little brother.
Apparently, N sent him a text and so he copied and pasted the text to me. I received the text on my way to my astronomy final. That text was all I could focus on during that test. Causing me to write a note on the back of my final apologizing to my professor for the bad grade I was going to receive.
Side note: I passed the final. I don't know if my professor felt sorry for me or if I actually passed but ...whatever.
Once I finished the final, I texted back and said, “Tell him I don’t accept his apology.” To which he replies, “Come on, it happened 3 months ago. Let it go. It was a nice apology.”
Let it go? Let it go??? You want me to Let. It. Go? Oh, I'll let it go alright. Watch me.
And before you ask, ****** and his brother are black.
It caused A LOT of turmoil in our friendship/relationship. It apparently caused a lot of turmoil between ****** and N. Where they didn't talk for a little over a year... But I find that hard to believe, since a couple months ago, N asked ******* to be his best man. N apologized multiple times to ******* and his family. N's parents apologized to *******'s family and *******. Shit, even N's fiancée apologized to *******. Everybody is buddy buddy and I get told repeatedly to forgive and let it go.
Did the person who was called that awful slur receive multiple apologies? Nope. Just the one through text. The person who I thought was going to protect me, the people who I thought were going to stand up for me, the people I considered my second family... didn't have my back. Proved to me that all skin folk are not all kinfolk. That incident is what changed my views on them and my relationship with them.
I said what I said. You know who you are. You know what role you played in that narrative. Sad thing is, I will always have love for them. Not N, but *******'s family will always have a place in my heart. But I hope you know that the kid you have known since he was riding his bike with training wheels... is in fact, a racist. To each their own. Enough about that story. I can talk about that incident all day.
A person will isolate themselves to protect their peace. I was called (and probably still called) anti-social by certain people in that state where the situation went down. There's a reason I would walk away from situations. There's a reason I would stay upstairs. There's a reason I would keep my mouth shut. There's a reason I wouldn't be buddy buddy with certain people, but kiki with everyone else. I always have a reason for my actions and I am always straightforward and truthful about why I did and do the things that I did and do. What I can't control is my body language/facial expressions. I know the stares I gave to people felt like death. They felt it. Which caused them to throw my name in the dirt. (See there I go, I can talk about this incident ALL DAY.)
I saw something the other day that said something along the lines of, "Some of your white friends never liked black people, just you." I have been trying to spread that message for years. The minute I found out a white friend of mine was like that, I dropped them.
To the family of the incident I just explained... See how many black people are in their circle aside from you all. Ask them their views on everything happening right now. No, it is not your job to teach them how to be anti-racist, but you can show them ways on how to get informed. Books, segments, articles, people's stories, YOUR STORIES. (Alright, I promise I'm done.)
Last one. Still junior year of college. This time spring semester. Junior year was QUITE the year for me. That year hit me hard. Changed my whole outlook on so much.
Two weeks before finals, I was writing my last couple papers for my writing class. I submitted everything and now, all I have to do is wait for the final. I knew I would end the class with an A. Or so I thought.
I wrote a paper early April. We had to write a review about something. I made it easy on myself and wrote a review about the hair products that I used. Work smart, not hard.
Well. That paper (also another one) resulted in me getting in trouble for plagiarizing. I’m just putting it out there now, I did not plagiarize. I wrote about my own experiences with the hair products. Spent two weeks testing out the hair products. Everyday, I wrote something about whatever product I used that day. But apparently, I didn’t and I looked up reviews and copied and pasted.
I can admit. Things were similar but it wasn’t word for word. I was flagged for saying, “And on top of all that, it smells delightful.” While someone else’s review said, “It smells delish.” I was flagged for saying, “It made my hair flake and feel crusty.” While someone’s review stated, “Flakes were in my hair and also made my hair feel crusty.” I was flagged for 2 more reviews out of 14 reviews. It sounded like the stupidest claim to me when I heard of what I allegedly did. I was like “…are you kidding? I legit have proof.”
Fought it. Won that case on that paper.
Second paper wasn’t so easy to fight.
(Oh did I mention the professor was white. And I was also the only black student in the class.)
We were assigned to interview a local business over spring break. I interviewed a pizza shop by my house. I interviewed customers, workers and the owner.
The owner’s quotes are what got me in trouble.
He mentioned things from his menu and stated quotes that he listed on his website.
(I have my moments, but I do know how to cite correctly. Been doing it all my years of high school and college, but apparently I choose my junior year to start plagiarizing.)
I had audio recording of the interview. Even went to her office and played it for her. And get this? She sits there at her desk and checks off everything that he says when she hears it in the recording AND STILL TELLS ME at the end, “You still plagiarized.” I said, “Can you please tell me when and how?” I kid you not. She didn't answer the question. Instead, she handed me a paper that basically told me if I don’t sign it within 3 days that I will have to go to a hearing. If I sign, I would receive a F for the course and have to repeat. There was no way I was doing that. So I didn’t sign. I fought and went to the hearing. On my 21st birthday. During finals week. Oh, and I had mono.
She really knew how to grind my gears the last two weeks of the semester. She wanted me to break. Once all this news came to me about plagiarizing, I immediately went home. Talked to anybody I could about the situation that could help me. Pulled my act together and went back to school and fought.
After the hearing, my boyfriend at the time, a black professor and I were standing in the hallway debriefing. She walked so fast by us and put her head down. We all saw it and we all looked at each other and knew she was embarrased.
Senior year, I avoided the CRAP out of her. The end.
But because of that incident. I lost the opportunity to be the Resident Assistant to the Student Media Living-Learning Community my senior year. Which also when I found out that I would be the RA for that community, I heard I only received it because I was black. But I digress.
The color of my skin shouldn’t place a target on my back.
But I love being black more than ever.
Our community is truly like no other.
I know my stories of racism that I shared aren’t huge, detrimental ones (well the one I can preach about all day was), but at the end of the day, the small instances still affected me.
I'm 24. There will be more stories added to my collection by the time I'm 30. It shouldn't be like that.
But hey. I can honestly tell you. I’m BLACK and I’m PROUD to be.
"Oh but my joy of today
Is that we can all be proud to say
To be young, gifted and black
Is where it's at." -Nina Simone
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