-Jews and Chinese Food -
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Though I am feeling quite tired, I am glad that I have kept myself productive and managed to get a lot of things done. Seeing that I have already accomplished a few tasks make trudging ahead easier. So since I am feeling so productive and all, I figured I could take a little time to blog. I have to warn you though; today's entry will be very long. If you aren't into reading long and wordy blogs then you might want to pass on reading the rest of this.
So, I have completed my debut as an actor at Hope and I have to say that the skit went really well. I had quite a few people come up to me to say that they were really touched or that it made them cry a little bit. That was nice to hear. And I am very glad that God used the skit to touch some hearts and challenge a few people. There was however one thing about the skit that I still can't seem to get out of my mind. It happened Saturday night when a few people from church got together after the service to celebrate a friend's birthday. We were sitting around talking and eating pie when the topic of the skit came up. In a past blog entry, I talked a little bit about how I was playing a black girl. That is where the conversation turned this night. Nothing major was said until someone asked if it would be okay if they made a rather blunt statement to me. Feeling a little weary I said yes. I was not prepared for what came next.
It seems that for this person, I am by far the "whitest" black person they have ever met. I didn't know how to respond to that statement at the time and so the conversation turned to where I grew up and if I was surrounded by a mostly white atmosphere. John and I talked about how I adapt to my surroundings and that how I am with my "white" friends is not how I am around my "black" friends or my family. It's almost as if I have a different dialect because I am communicating in a way that my current surrounding require at the time. I can honestly say it's something I picked up from my mom and don't even think about it when it happens. It just does. John has done it before when he worked with a group of black girls in Vegas. We would be driving home from work and he would tell me stories about the call center and he would sound just like what many perceive as "black girl." The birthday boy then talked about his dad and how it's kind of the same way when they go back to visit his father's family (who are from somewhere that I can't seem to remember at the moment). He says his father quickly picks up this thick accent and it's almost as if he is a different person.
On the way home, I quickly thought of things I should have said or questions I should have asked. I admitted to John that though I would much rather people ask me questions about my race or what that means to me, it still hurts sometimes that people want to put me in this little box and label me with a characteristic just because I look a certain color. I love my culture. From the music to the food to the way it seems to be influencing every part of our society. I love the color of my skin. I wouldn't want to be any other color. But why is it that the minute I say or do something that is considered abnormal for my race, I all of a sudden am not black enough or that it somehow makes me want to be white? So here is my question to all of you; what makes a person black or white (or Asian or Native American)? Is it the color of their skin or they way in which they behave? Do you feel as if it is both? How does a "black person act versus a "white" person? Does someone liking rock or alternative music make them white? Can only black people listen to and enjoy rap? Why does our society deem it okay for white people to use "black" slang or listen to "black" songs (and not loose any of their whiteness) but being black and incorporating things from someone else's race take away from your blackness?
I could go on and on with this. I could talk about sacrifices I have made in trying to break racial boundaries or things that I will do to make my marriage work for both John and I. Throughout my life, I have been friends with black people like me and it is never easy for any of us. I use to ask God why he made me so different and broken. Why did I have to be black but enjoy soo much of what society said wasn't meant for me? As I got older, I began to understand that God is using me in many ways to change the mindset of people. A part of me embraces this and takes pride in who I am. Yet, there will probably always be a part of me that wonders why it has to be such a lonely road.
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Song of the day: One and Lonely
by Superchic[k]
shawanda
1:24 PM
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: 6:41 PM