Gated

ᴱᴺᵀᴿʸ ¹

⁰⁸/¹²/²⁰¹⁷

Growing up in luxury as a black girl is not all it's cracked up to be. Yeah, there's benefits of it, but with every benefit is an even worse downside.

Take me, for example. Wait- let's start this over.

Hello, my name is Onika Santos-Sheard. I am the only daughter of Richard Sheard and Tanya Santos-Sheard. I am seventeen and going into my senior year of high school.

Now back to how "black luxury" isn't for the weak. My dad is the best black neurosurgeon in his region. He is like nine years older than my Dominican model of a mother. Crazy if you ask me, but I love their love and I love my daddy.

They met when my dad, who was thirty-two at the time was visiting the DR. According to her story, my then twenty-three year old mother saw him, saw money, and saw her way to America. My dad ended up extending his trip for a month after they met and while they say nothing happened at that point, I highly doubt that.

Anyway, they say after a month they knew they were "meant to be" and the rest is history. I guess it worked out cause they've been married for twenty-five years and have three beautiful children together... *wink wink*.

They're also really cute. So my mom told my dad that she wanted to have at least one of her kids to share a last name with her, and he didn't even fight her on it. She treasured my abuelo and wanted his name to carry on. They agreed that if they had a girl she'd be Santos- Sheard like her. And a boy would be Sheard, like my dad. So my brothers are Richard Sheard Jr. and Takoda Sheard and- well you know who I am. The baddest. Period.

Okay! Back to how "black luxury" isn't for the weak. For real this time.

It's hard going to school with rich white people. It's like a lot of their parents teach them they're better than us from birth, and while my neighborhood is predominantly black, it's not black, black. Like I live around all the black people whose parents hated themselves and passed it on to their kids. Like all the black boys that only date white, Latina, or mixed girls; and in that order. All the black girls who couldn't tell you their natural hair texture if you asked because their hair is pressed out year round.

My parents never separated from my blackness, so when I show up to school with braids to my knees or a thirty-four inch, middle part, 613, bust down, it feels like everybody is watching me, judging me. Not like it's stopping my motion, but like- it bothers me. How you got more black in you than me and you're mad I'm not "heat training" my hair? It's weird, bitches are weird.

It also feels like I have to try ten times harder, to get half as much recognition. With volleyball for example, I'm damn good, but they love to play with my play time. The only time at school when I can truly be me is when I'm dancing.

Maybe it's not hard and I'm just complaining about stupid stuff. I know people have it way harder than me, but it still sucks.

I also never know who to trust. A lot of girls try to get close to my mother, and some guys try to get close to me because of the "great" Dr. Sheard. Like- that's just my daddy, he ain't that special. Like okay, he's done neurosurgery on some of your favorite athletes, so what?! Ugh!

~Chunks Cunts