Friday, March 13, 2009

Oreo's- 03/13/09


A few days ago a lady friend of mine told me I was the "whitest" black man she knew. When I first heard this I laughed, but later that evening as I reflected on her words I let myself become offened. Being black nowadays isn't about skin color but it's more about culture and peoples predetermined perceptions of what that culture should be. I wonder if, as a black man in america, I should speak poorly and use more slang in conversation than proper english. I ask myself, does a shirt that fits, or a pair of pants that fails to sag, take away from my culture or does it add to it? I guess I got upset because the greater part of me would hope that when people in the world saw me, educated, well spoken, and humble, would not assume I was playing some "Uncle Tom" role. I would hope that those who knew me and all of the wrong I've done, like pushing dope on the hopeless, and using women as I willed, could see the genuine change in my heart through my actions. I hope that those who knew me would understand that I choose to seperate myself from those who live like what they see in the media.
I saw my friend again yesterday and i brought up her comment again jokingly, saying " Gal Ima start sportin' a gold chain an git me a gangsta grill. Shorty Ima putcha out on the corner next week so you could make me my paper to pay fo all dis lavishness." Then I watched the reaction written all over her face.

No comments:

Post a Comment