Disclaimer: I do not own the BSC. I don't own Jessi. I don't know Ann M. Martin. I don't own anything because I'm a poor college kid. Enjoy the show. :)
Author's note: I write because I'm bored. In fact, I got bored tonight and wrote this in half an hour. So be nice. :) Really though, all reviews are welcome. I enjoy constructive criticism and other people's opinions, if they're worded...constructively. I may take this up as my new hobby, so let me know what you think. :D Oh, and rated T because I wrote a minor potty word and I just wanted to be safe. :)
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------
They
say that I'm paranoid. They say that I'm not treated any
differently. But they don't understand.
Because they're not black. It's such an ugly word, isn't it? Black. Like when you beat someone black and blue. Or the pot calling the kettle black. However you phrase it, it has a negative connotation. Or maybe you want to go politically correct and say African-American. That phrase alone makes me want to roll my eyes and beat someone with a stick. How do you figure that I'm African-American? I've never been to Africa. I was born and raised in this country. So were my parents, and my grand parents, and well...I think my great grandma may have immigrated from ENGLAND. But that doesn't matter. I'll always have to mark down African American on standardized tests, applications...anything that really matters. Because that's all that will really matter.
When we moved to this town, we saw it as a new beginning. A small town, nice houses, green lawns, friendly faces...I guess I expected the Cleavers to live next door. We were from New Jersey, and the town that I grew up in was pretty much a melting pot. I didn't have to think twice about my race. I didn't know that I was different. No one told me I was different. Until I moved to Stoneybrook. The people in this town that's supposed to be 'a friendly place to live' was far from friendly. Unless of course, you consider dirty glances, racial slurs, and the cold shoulder friendly. Then by all means, Stoneybrook is the friendliest place on the world. They were so friendly when we moved here that they welcomed us in the greatest way–short of burning a cross on our front lawn of course. That would have been a little too welcoming, I suppose. Of course, the yard with the big burn mark would have brought the neighborhood's property values down. Just like the black family in the big white house did.
I can understand ignorance. Don't get me wrong, I understand completely. I understand that people are afraid of the unknown, and I understand that the media portrays blacks as gangsters who are ready to 'gangster you up' and steal all of your possessions in the process. I know that we're supposed to be loud, kool-aid drinking, chicken eating, watermelon munchers. But really people, what's so hard about understanding the fact that we can't help what we look like? There isn't a magic button in the womb that lets me pick all of my features, right down to my skin color. Because I most certainly wouldn't have chosen something that would have made me so different, so hated.
I have friends. Or rather, I have "friends". They say that they don't care, but I know that they do. Do you want to know how I know? Because they constantly point out how much they DON'T care. Every other day it seems, they're pointing out how they aren't racist, and how they welcomed me when I first moved here. Half the time I just want to ask them "Do you want a cookie for that?" They seem to think that they did me some sort of 'favor' by being friends with me. They welcomed me into their little baby-sitting club/cult(yeah, cult is a good word), because they wanted to prove how wonderful and "un-racist" they were. I suppose it looked good to their clients, who in turn benefitted by looking 'un-racist' for letting a black person into their house to look after their children. Did you know that the people in this town keep count of how many black people have been in their house, and then they sprout the numbers off proudly to me, in order to look good? Back to the 'un-racist' club. I mean, they had their token Asian, why not their token black chick? You should see them describe each other sometimes. There's Kristy. She's wonderful at sports and thinking of new ideas, she's a bit bossy and loud at times, and she's sort of a tomboy. Mary Anne is shy, sensitive, and sweet. Stacey is gorgeous, sophisticated, great at math, from New York. Dawn is the individual from California who loves health food and the environment. Mallory is a gifted writer with 7 brothers and sisters, red hair, and is very level-headed. And Jessi is black. That's right. Just black. I'm lucky if I get 'dancer' thrown in there. But most of the time, it's just 'the black one.' The only one who gets screwed over half as much as I do is Claudia. She's the talented artist who isn't so good at school, who loves junk food and happens to be Japanese. Oh, but not just any kind of Japanese. She has the most beautiful complexion/she's exotic looking Japanese. I'm black, and she's exotic looking. There's nothing exotic about running through the jungles of Africa, killing my own zebra's for food. Sorry, just finding humor in the situation. That's how I get by, that's how I get people to like me. With my humor. I guess it's a bit obnoxious at times, but it's all I have to make people look past my skin color. Or it's a defense mechanism. Whichever you want to go with.
It's funny when I meet people now, because in a way, I guess I am paranoid. I'm constantly wondering if they're being truly nice to me, or if they're just being polite. If they're the slightest bit rude, I'm wondering if that's just their personality, or if they're uncomfortable with my skin color. Most of the time, it turns out to be the latter. I'll talk about how so and so was rude to me, only to be met with rolled eyes and a "You must be being paranoid again! She's the sweetest person ever!" I'm not being paranoid, damnit. I know when people are being racist, I know when someone doesn't like me because of my skin color. When you go to shake someone's hand and they back away. When you say something and get a dirty look, but someone else says the exact same thing and it's HILARIOUS. When everyone in the world gets along with that person, but you don't because they aren't "comfortable around different ethnic groups," or because "We just don't have much in common." When you don't get invited to any parties, and you're sitting at home on a Friday night all alone. When everyone assumes that you like rap, so they blast it in their car when you DO get to hang out with people. When they try to talk "gangster" to you, because they think that's how you talk. Forgive me for being pissed off about the situation, but just say it. It's because Jessi's black.