I Am Me

Love

When I was 12 -18 months I started to talk & my first words were "Ma-Ma, Dada."

I barely said two words and Ma broke down crying on the sofa while I was sitting there playing with my toys. I was a baby and the only things that was probably going through my mind was milk and food. And I'm pretty sure Jamal was thinking the same thing because we were the same age.

There's so many things that I wish I could ask.

There's just so many things floating around in my head that make me feel like a balloon, ready to pop at any second.

Uncontrolled.

So many things I wish I could change but can't.

The house is real quiet e morning. It isn't filled with the constant chatter of my brother playing Fortnite with his amigos or fill will the sound of ma cooking or the smell.

Sounds I'm so used to that it seems like something is wrong if I don't hear them.

I turn on my phone to a beautiful sight that will always make me smile. A picture of Ma, Jamal and me posing at Sea World even though we were clearly lost. I scroll through my apps to find Spotify and I play Lil Tjay -Steady Calling My Phone to stop my thoughts from racing and my heart from pounding out of my chest.

I plop back down on my bed knowingly searching for answers within my walls that I won't find. Eventually my eyes started to hurt and I doze off.

On the long ride to school I looked out the window and I dreamed of many things. You're free to have do what you please and dream of what you'd like to do. With dreams, no limitations are set. Nothing breaks through. It's just you and your dreams. Even if they don't happen to come true they are still dreams. Dreams that could be accomplished with effort, determination, confidence & being positive.

I just sit and think.

I think about what it would be like if I wasn't black.

I think about what it would be like if Dad actually came back.

When I look in the mirror, I see a black girl staring back at me. A black girl who want's to understand what's so bad about being her, being black.

When I look up we are a turn-the-corner away from school.

But I don't stop thinking about these things and what would be like. All through my classes I sit and stare off into space thinking about these very things. And soon my thoughts are interrupted when Mr.Bulano says something then looks right at me. I guess he finally noticed I was distracted and turned his attention to me. Took him long enough even though, I don't really like raising my hand in class.

Everybody turns to look at me. I sit up straight and answer. "Yes?"

"Would you like to explain how the cultures, nations and roles and rights shift or change over time in historical periods?"

I sit speechless for a second and then I get ready to answer after a minute of thinking but then Troy blurts out something thinking he's so funny.
"No, she can't because she too busy being black as fuck." And then he breaks out laughing right along with his friends behind and next to him.

I open my mouth to say something but something sour gets stuck in my throat.

I don't know if it's sadness or anger or both but not a word comes out.

The teacher immediately reacts to this by telling him that he doesn't tolerate this kind of behavior in his class and unless he would like another week of detention; he suggests he be quiet and pay attention.