My Race to Race

What exactly is race? Who constructs it? Why am I Black? Would life be different if I were White? Are just a few of the many questions that run through my head. Of course, I would never ask the majority of these questions out loud; the reason being I believe my questions would not be answered fully or, at least, not in depth. “The race to Race” is the terminology I use when referring to how I actually became aware that I was different. The race was short, but the reoccurring events and instances that would happen in my life continued to reinforce my social expectations. As society continued to tell me I was different, the more and more I took it upon myself to mold myself into a person that was similar to the dominant race. If the average white kid played basketball, I played basketball. If the average White kid in my community was an A+ student then I was going to mimic his academic habits. All this was being done while, strangely, I was still able to connect with people who are the same race as me; it was like I was a super hero who changed identities depending on my environment.
I was not born in America. I am a citizen of the country Liberia. My family and I migrated from our war-torn country when I was only three years old. So, being a foreigner, you can only imagine the difficulty I ran into trying to fit in. I was not raised in a traditional family; I was brought up by my loving grandmother and two sisters. My mother and father came into my life at a later date. This only added to my differences that seemed to stick out like a sore thumb. It was as if things were wrong, if it was not traditional.
I remember one instance when I was attending Carl G. Laura Elementary School and my fourth grade teacher, Ms. O’Brian, had assigned the class a take home art project. The task was to create a portrait of your house and everyone who lived there, but to also remember to provide names of your family members. So, I went home and did just that. I created a colorful family portrait of my family standing outside of our apartment house. It was a five bedroom, two bathroom one kitchen apartment; it had a little living room, no dining room and, most importantly no space. From the outside, the house seemed to be wooden with sky blue paint. The windows were covered by steel bars and the door was metal. The family members that were standing outside of the house were my older brother Peterson, both of my older sisters Minah and Mame, my nephew Prince, his little sister Lue, my uncle Sam and, lastly my loving grandmother Marian.
When my home work was completed, I felt like I had created a masterpiece; something artistic, true and special, but I guess my classmates who were mainly White Italians at the time, thought otherwise. They felt it was different and strange. On the day the project was due I presented my picture to my class and there was no issue. The problem presented itself when the teacher gave the class a few minutes to socialize with each other. While looking at the others’ pictures, I realized that while my family portrait had more people, my portrait didn’t have grass, nor did it have a house pet. It didn’t have a male figure that was labeled father, or a female figure labeled “mother,” and most importantly, my family members were colored in with brown color pencils, while my classmates’ color of choice was peach. With this being said, rumors began to circulate the room and snickers and laughter that were once hidden from me came to light. When I asked “Hey guys what’s funny? I want to laugh”, that’s when one of my classmate repeated what had been circulating “you’re a project kid.” His comment made me upset, so I did the thing I felt was right at the time; I punched him. My reaction got me suspended, but I learned a valuable lesson and it wasn’t that violence doesn’t solve anything; I learned that when outside of my house, I must withhold certain information from the world, so I am able to “look normal.” I guess Audrey Smedley, author of “”What is race? What is ethnicity,” was right when she said, “race identity [takes] priority over religion, ethnic origin, education, language, and beliefs.”
Now that I sit here and really analyze my childhood, I can honestly say the race which I identify myself with has hurt me in certain situations, but also helped me in others. For example, one of the biggest stereotypes that surround African/Black males is if your black, you’re athletic. I was able to experience the upside to this stereotype when I lived in Fall River, Massachusetts. I was a inner city kid who moved to Fall River to attend school for my 8th grade year. Fall River was a town that was seemingly predominantly inhabited by White Portuguese who loved Sharrese.
Upon entering, Morgan Middle School I was a little nervous. I mean, who wouldn’t be? I was going to a brand new school, with people I don’t know and people who didn’t look like me? I didn’t know what to expect. Surprisingly, I was welcomed with open arms and was treated very well at Morgan Middle School, especially by the students. The kids that were part of my circle of close friends were White, except for Mike, who was Spanish, and Albert who was also Black. I would always feel like I was part of the norm when I was at Morgan Middle, except when we were at a function or event that was outside of school. For example, there was a time when my friends (excluding Albert, who’s mother had him go to church instead) and I, attended Dartmouth Mall to watch a movie; As we strolled through the mall and my friends saw Black kids, they would all say, “KC if they try to fight us, I hope you tell them were cool because you know we don’t know how to fight”.
At the time, I laughed and didn’t really think about it because we were all friends’ right; it was just a joke, right? And plus I am equally guilty for making other stereotypical assumptions that all my White friends couldn’t fight and that they’re all rich. I really didn’t pay attention to why they accepted me as their friend. Was it because I had a good personality? Was it because I was athletic? Or was the welcoming motivated by selfish intentions? Maybe they thought they might look cooler now they have a Black friend. As a kid things like this really don’t run through your head because you don’t analyze events as much as you do when you come of age; Now as I think back this was an important event and it did show me I was different from my friends, although we shared the same naive thoughts.
While walking in the mall, I was kind of embarrassed to walk with my friends because I thought they dressed weird. I didn’t tell them that, but it did cross my mind. I was dressed with my red and white button-up shirt, blue jeans and all white Nike Air Force Ones. It seemed like they just threw together whatever they felt like wearing; their clothes weren’t even color coordinated. It almost seemed like two worlds clashed and decided to be friends; but I wasn’t the only person who noticed the difference. It was apparent that most of the other kids in the mall could see what I saw but ignored.
I don’t think I can pinpoint an exact date and time when I noticed that the color of my skin meant I was different. But the one thing I can say is, when I found out being African was different it was like I got enlisted into a battle I never signed up for. In the beginning I was supplied with little ammunition, no experience and no protective gear; but as time grew, I was able to find my weapon (which is education), recruit more soldiers (Africans who care) and find shelter, to be able to fight back. I have come to realize that when I was born my level of success was predetermined. The most I was expected to move up in the social economical charts was one bar; from poor low income to about middle class. Now if I was born White it meant I was automatically born advantaged because society constructed White to be the dominant race, and when you’re at the top you’re expected to maintain at the position. With that being said, where is the equality in that? There is none, so that’s the War that is being fought right now, equality within opportunities. Without opportunity the chances for my race to advance is not high. So every day I prepare myself for war but I chose my battles carefully because it’s the battles that determine who wins the war.

Race

I had a great conversation with a friend of mine today. The discussion basically boiled down to Race and its effect on opportunity. I personally believe that an individual’s master status (sex, race, class, ability and sexual orientation) in the United States predetermines the access to opportunity in life, although there are exceptions. The world that we live in is socially constructed. We are spoon fed beliefs, ranks and false information like babies that are forced to eat Gerber products. In the USA when an individual is born black he or she is automatically born disadvantaged, and underprivileged when looking at access to opportunity. So now the question is what does opportunity have to do with anything? And my answer to that is, OPPORTUNITY IS EVERYTHING!! Without equal opportunities how can we really live our lives and say that all men (and women) are created equal, or better yet treated equally. For example let’s look at education. While I was growing up all I ever heard from my parents was, education is the key, which is true by all means; but little did I know, where you live and what school you attend determines the quality education received. My public school education did me well and prepared me for the next level, but when my Public school is matched up against a private school, the winner is private school. So let’s look deeper into the matter, where are all the private schools located? In the suburbs, so what race inhabits the suburbs? White, where is all the public schools located? The inner city, who lives in the inner city? Minorities. The GI Bill helps separate and place the two groups in their current location. The military, to be more specific gave all American soldiers benefits while at the same time restricting Blacks from living in certain areas and allow Whites the opportunity to choose……. So without access to the suburbs how are minorities going to access quality education? I think it makes it more difficult but “that’s Just A Thought”

Feel free to leave a comment. I would love to hear what you think about my view, or I would love to hear about your perspective on the matter.

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Something Good!! to Eat!

this past weekend I honestly ate the best Chinese food that RI has to offer, so I thought i would share my findings with my viewers. If your hungry for Chinese I would recommend you stop by: APSARA'S!!


Apsara Restaurant
716 Public Street
Providence, RI 02907
Telephone: 401: 785-1490

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