I am white, as I look into my Dad's ocean eyes. And as they changed into the forest a place I know better than a busy city street, I know nothing more than this feeling of home.
I am black, as I attempt to play with my Mother's locks. She twists my curls in her hands and I know nothing more than this feeling of home.
When we are out in public I get nothing but awkward stares and cold looks from those that barely know my name. They see me walking next to a man much lighter than me and can only let their mind wander as to why we are standing so close to each other.
When we are out in public we get nothing but compliments from those that barely know my name. They asked you if I am your daughter and tell you that you make beautiful children.
This invisible tightrope that I walk on is a solo mission. "You are too white." "You are not black enough."
And I do not notice it. I know that I am white. I know that I am black.
When my family sits in the living room to watch a movie we almost forget that we are all a different shade. Only when we are out in the "world" do we then have to explain that "Yes, we are all together."
There is this song at my job, and the words go a little something like "1985 was a good year..." And when I told my parents about the song because I liked the beat my Dad says "Yea, it was, that's the year Mommy & I met."
I am white. I am black. And without either one I would have no better understanding than my feeling of home.
-LoveChatty
