Why Are You Obsessed with My Race?

Why Are You Obsessed with My Race? Chapter 13

Wednesday finally arrived. I didn't know if anyone would show up to our club, but it was only fair for me to attend.

"What Mr. Callaway did was unacceptable," said Ms. Palmer, lining up the chairs.

I was lining up the chairs on my side of the room. "I agree; it was very cruel, disgusting, and disrespectful on so many levels." One of the chair's legs was unstable, so I put it in the corner. "I knew he had something against me, but I did not think it was towards all mixed people." I continued, "I think it is sad that people's mindsets are the reason why there is so much hate in the world." I scooted a chair up to make sure it was in the right place, "It is as if people have an illness. Their mind has a disease that has spread uncontrollably. The deadly disease is called racism, and the cure is a combination of love and respect for others."

Ms. Palmer smiled and said softly, "Words from a poet." Her facial expression quickly changed, "I knew my skin color was an issue with Mr. Callaway because every time I used to say good morning, he would never respond." She paused for a second, "You know, I've been a teacher here for ten years, and I have seen a pattern that never changes. Either there are some white students or white teachers who hate blacks, or some black students or black teachers who hate whites. There are a select few who are the best of friends with a different race." She looked out the window, "However, things have changed for the better somewhat, because for the past years, there have been more biracial students in our school, and it has made it a tad bit easier for everyone to get along. Many biracial families get along with both races. However, some biracial families have an issue with blacks and whites because of how their children are treated. It is sad when you think about it."

I nodded my head, and I had to ask Ms. Palmer a question. "You are biracial. Have you ever been called names or treated any differently? If so, how did that make you feel?"

Before she could even answer the question, three people walked through the door. A girl with blond hair and another girl who had her hair in a bun and her glasses were the cutest pinkish color I'd ever seen. The guy behind them was on his phone and told whoever he was talking to that he would call them back. He had long hair, and his eyes were a pretty light green color. "You all can take a seat," I told them as I pointed to the chairs Ms. Palmer and I had lined up neatly.

Shortly after, another person arrived, and I was happy to know people showed up. Last week, I threw the flyers in the trash because I lost hope after people's comments and figured nobody would show up.

I introduced myself, and Ms. Palmer introduced herself as well. Right after we introduced ourselves, Stephen and Stephine arrived.

Stephine whispered in my ear, "I apologize. I know we are late but, my car wouldn't start."

I nodded my head and smiled, "That is okay. I knew you two would be here."

Both Stephine and Stephen quickly introduce themselves as well.

I took the floor, "Welcome to Nobody Gets to Pick My Race For Me Club. Once again, I am Stella." I touched my chest, "I am so happy you all decided to join us. This club is for everyone who chooses to join." I took a couple of steps forward and made eye contact with everyone individually. "We are here to confide in each other because, at times, we as biracial students feel left out and alone. This club is meant for everyone to feel safe, uplift each other, and to know none of us are alone."

Ms. Palmer started the meeting. Her smile lit up the room, "Stella asked me an important question which I would like to answer for everyone to hear." She reached for my hand and held my hand in hers. "Stella asked me, had I ever been called names or treated any differently? If so, how did it make me feel?" Tears were entangled in her eyelashes, "Yes, I've been called all kinds of names, except for the child of God." Tears trailed down her rosy cheeks as she softly said, "When I was young, I never fit into a group. I was always excluded from everything and everyone. I tried joining different clubs, but I was never accepted. Back in my day, people were very fond of sending notes. We didn't have cell phones. I once recall a note that I will never forget; it said, '"You are a white negro. That means you are a nigger, and niggers and white negros are not welcome in our club."' Tears trickled down her face. She touched her heart, "My apology, that note still hurts." Her lips trembled, "I was told at such a young age by one of my teachers that I wasn't human and that I was unwanted by society because I am biracial." She pulled her straight hair behind her ears, "My mother is white, and my father is black." She closed her eyes, "I was told so many times that I had to choose my race. I had to choose to be either white or black." She opened her eyes, "I used to ask my so-called friends, why do I have to choose a color? Why do I have to deny a part of my family? Why do I have to deny a part of me? Their answer was—because I cannot be both." I passed Ms. Palmer some tissue. She wiped her face, "I struggled with my color for a long time until one day I told myself I am not like everyone else—I am one of a kind, and I will not let anyone make me feel less than human."