When my first beautiful child started kindergarten I was so nervous.. Nervous because we had been soo close and she was now starting school and I knew I would miss her. At the time I was working at the Queen Mary in Long Beach, Ca and rode a bike to work each day. My little girl, Nyree had a seat on the back and so off we went.
Later on when I picked her up and we went home for dinner she asked me some questions, of course! But when she asked me this, “Mom am I a zebra?”, I looked at her in surprise, “What is that all about?” I thought to myself.. And said immediately, “Of course not baby you are a beautiful little girl..”
After her bath and prayers she was a sleep in her bed. She was so beautiful, peanut butter skin, dark long, long , very curly hair, her smile could light up the world and she was soo lovable. As I walked from her room it hit me like a brick, “Why am I so slow about things?” I said to myself. It was then that I realized, some one at school must have asked that, because I am white and her father was black.
I was not really prepared for the world I had walked into, coming from Rock Springs, Wyoming and raised in Orange County, California. This blog chronicles my experiences down through the years. They may not be in chronological order, but they are the events that happened to me and also my thoughts. Actual events will be headed with a year date. When I am thinking out loud, which I often do, there wil be no date. The events are actual and I have tried to be as accurate as possible.. The only variation from the truth is with some of the names. Those I have changed in some instances to prevent some hurt and also to protect some that are guilty.
I am married to an American who is currently called a Black American… I really do not like such descriptions myself, since he, his mother, father, grandmother, great grandmother were all born in America. However ever since his ancestors were brought here, America has chosen to define them with some adverb that has to do with color. His actual shade is somewhere between weak coffee and strong tea. We have five beautiful children that are grown and amazing. They too have unfortunately been adverbally challenged down through the years, with the following terms: black, yellow, mulatto, mixed, peanut butter, zebra, half n half,, etc…just for starters.
I have been culturally depicted as Causasian, or white. One of our daughters was bathing one day , she was about 5 years old and she screamed very loudly, “Mommy , mommy come her quick!”.. So of course, I ran into the bathroom, “What is it?”.. she looked up and said “Give me your arm:”.. ok, here is my arm… She laid it on the porcelain tub and exclaimed very loudly, “Mom, you can’t be white!!” .. of course I asked, “Why not?”.. in her adorable little voice she simply said “Mom, you don’t match the bathtub”…
She was right you know , my white is more of a beige, but the world had decided long ago, what was black and what was white, without her input, so it is what it is.
Through the years after meeting my husband, I have also had some adverbs attached to me, some I can’t print, because I refuse to… really do not want to mention any, but I said I would record events as they happened so here are a few for your reading enjoyment: white trash, whore, wannabee, n…… lover, b……., scandalous, white stallion, honky, fay, a double scribble, etc.
So this is my first post.. not everything written will be about my marriage, because I was blessed to have some great experiences in my life and to live through some amazing historical moments… hope you enjoy….