Since I was 2-years-old, I have grown through the many pros and cons of being in a predominantly white neighborhood. My parents are both West Indian from Guyana, South America. They both came to the States in the late 80s along with my older sister.
We lived in Albany until I was two years old. Before I was born, my sister attended a Catholic school in the Albany area before she was 12. By the time I was born my parents decided that they would prefer it if my sister and I attended the Guilderland School District. My sister was about to start seventh grade and I certainly know that was one decision that my parents do not regret. They were all about education, so they wanted to make sure that my sister and I got the best education being in the right area.
My whole entire life I've been known for being around kids that were different from me. I was used to so many things, so certain topics and subjects never really crossed my mind until I started first grade. I was taught by my parents and my sister that I'm not like the other kids. I remember being approached about certain types of music because, at the time, I was the only black kid in my class who really knew the ins and outs of "good" music. That was never an issue when you're a kid.
However, things started to change when I got to fourth and fifth grade. I started getting picked on over the dumbest things. Being born in the United States, I was so accustomed to fitting in with the other kids in school, so I was prone to doing certain things in order for them to like me. I always would feel the pressure to have certain types of clothes, talk a certain way and to stay up late at night because "all the cool kids were doing it." Little did I realize, I wasn't being myself by trying to impress all of my white peers.
I felt like I was being controlled while trying to impress everyone. I wanted to fit in to satisfy my peers and make everyone happy. There were some days that I did not feel happy with myself, or how I looked, because I would not embrace certain things about myself that I had no control over; which brings me to my hair.
Through all of grade school, I remember how all my teachers would tell me that they loved how pretty my braids and barrettes were. However, some of my classmates were not too fond of it. One classmate, in particular, would get so upset that I would wear my hair in braids, that one day on the school bus she told me the "clips" in my hair, as she would say, were the ugliest things she had ever seen. I will never forget how hurt and torn I was after she said that. I remember sobbing the minute I got off the bus and just asking my dad if there was something wrong with me. Nothing hurt me more than hearing comments like that.
I was 10 to 11 years old being told my natural hair was ugly. I couldn't believe my blackness was being put down because it didn't match her whiteness with her straight hair and all. That wouldn't be the last time I would be put down.
Everything from clothes to the music I listened to; I would be lying if I could say there were days where there weren't cons. I tried to straighten my hair through all of middle school, not realizing that my hair couldn't handle a certain amount of heat. The more my hair was getting damaged, the more I realized how much hair I was losing. It made me so sad to see all the years of growing my hair wasted, just to fit in with my classmates.
As high school rolled around, I was happy to finally be around more of my black peers who could relate to issues that I had dealt with for almost half my life. Unfortunately, I would run into moments when I was accused of "not being black enough" or "acting white."
First and foremost, there is no such thing as "acting a color." Because I speak with a proper vocabulary, dress a certain way and listen to certain things doesn't make me white. Just because I listened to the Jonas Brothers doesn't make me white. I listen to every genre, except for country, so I couldn't quite bring myself to understand why they would say that.
Some of the white kids felt the same way because I didn't seem to fit the stereotype of being black. The saying always goes, "too black for the white kids and too white for the black kids." I should not have to defend myself against my own race, so the fact that I did made things extremely complicated.
Some of my friends who I no longer associate with would introduce me to some of their friends as "the white girl." I look just like you, I have the same color eyes as you, yet I'm being bashed because I'm not acting the stereotype? It was a question of, "where do I belong?"
I'm happy I had many people on my side that stood up for me, both black and white. I knew that somewhere there were individuals that were always there for me through all of the tough times. I was able to receive certain privileges that not many had, in terms of playing an instrument, playing sports, being able to go trick or treating and ride bikes with my neighborhood peers. God bless them; through thick and thin I will never be ashamed to call them my neighbors, especially their parents. It's also given me good judgment of not judging someone just because they're different.
I will always remain contentious when it comes to defending my color as I should. However, I'm happy growing up in a white neighborhood gave me lessons, yet blessings. I enjoy having a diverse group of friends and finally being at the age where I no longer have to explain myself to anyone. I hang out with who I hang out with not just because of what they look like; I have the friends that I have because we have good times together.
To all my black brothers and sisters who might have felt that you didn't belong, don't be afraid to hold those accountable. YOU ARE BLACK no matter what you listen to, dress like, talk like or what sorority or fraternity you join. YOU ARE BLACK, PERIOD! If you still find yourself dealing with this issue, clearly no one can accept you the way you are. It gives you an opportunity to surround yourself with those who will give you confidence and support. I'm there with you.