#two street kids who from their perspective have just found themselves somewhere unfamiliar and lots of people are yelling and chasing them? | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

neferdede · 8 years ago

Text

BLACK HISTORY MONTH: "Through Woke Eyes From Different Sides" Pt. 1

February 1st, 2017

Written By: Desiree Dossen

Greetings and warm salutations to all of my fellow readers. Welcome to those if it is your first time joining us here at StylistaInMind.com. Here we style everything from sole to crown and discuss culture InConversation. On today's agenda have a special for those of you who have been waiting for some new content. My great friend and I are introducing a month long discussion, throughout the month of February. We will be discussing Culture, Identity, and Awareness. These are topics that are dear to me and I am excited to share with you somehtings that were once sensitive but have matured since then. We will discuss childhood stories of colorism from different perspectives. Check Out Chelsea Krieger's take on being a mixed race child in this American Society in which we live. Visit LifesSentence.com

Each week we will deliver a new topic and a new discussion, feel free to comment and share your own experiences below to keep the dialogue afloat. Enjoy Pt. 1 below.

Black History month is about representation and highlighting history that was made yet also acknowledging the change that is created daily within our community. Often times we go through life harboring various experiences without expressing them in order to find peace or to heal properly. One thing I believe in is instilling wisdom and positive affirmations into a child from a tender age. So that when they grow up they can have respect for themselves and others they interact with. Let's get into it....

To begin, I hope I can add some taste to this topic as my story may not be as profound as Chelsea's. However I find beauty in being brown and chocolate in which oftentimes is super sweet. Yet society has deemed this earth skin tone color of mine something I should not embrace. In subliminal regard, Well too late, I love me and all parts of me even if the "beauty standard" is of a "European" look. Firstly, My perspective comes from a cultural standpoint rather than just black and white. I Am of African descent, born in the states but 1st generation American child of Liberian immigrants. I am the alternative. I embrace my uniqueness in all aspects from skin tone to style to mindset. Diversity is key in the language we speak. The mass majority may think they are the only race, superior to those they claim to be minority. In opposition the mass minority equates to the majority. Sadly, what I was surrounded by in Grade school could be far from the truth. But here's my truth. Giving insight to my childhood. I have a passion for cultures and connecting the underlying truths between each culture. The hidden facts the colonizers tried to suppress I enjoy digging up and bringing them to light. My family left the inner city of Newark, NJ to give their girls better opportunity at life. Raised in Old bridge in which some would claim is predominately white. I barely saw that. I lived in an apartment complex where my neighbors were Indian, Pakistani, Afghani, Asian, Hispanic, and African immigrants. All descendants of somewhere from somewhere other than here. Listen, I love cultures, to see the pride one carries in a traditional dress or costume is beautiful. But when I would get to elementary school no more than 20 mins away. There was a divide. I became the only black girl in my classes. I became that black girl that carried the fat asses they stereotyped. I became that black girl that would cry lonely at night because I had no friends. Til this day I believe me not being the "typical black girl" they wanted to stereotype, I became the alternative. I had one friend from kindergarten until I don't know when because she found her white friends now she could blend. That's the thing I'll always stand out. I'll always be making noise or causing a scene even if I don't utter a sound. Uncomfortable but proud. I didn't realize it then but I understand now. It all makes sense the whys turned into how's. You see I'm "A CUltural Mesh," the fusion of cultures makes me feel joyous when I know I can connect with another bredren and sistren. You are a product of your environment they say. The environment I was in allowed me to be open and welcoming to others from all walks of life. That same friend I had in grade school, was an offspring of an Italian father and Korean mother. I'm not quite sure if she knew it then but her cultures meshed so well together I would say. Somehow, she would be classified as a white girl. Caucasian she would check off, because she had the European features and silky hair. The only thing they may question was her slightly olive complexion.

Contrary to belief, it's interesting how I thought her ethnic identity was beautiful, as I would hide my African Pride. I would lie in class when they would ask me to state my middle name. I couldn't let them know what Manaweh means it's, not Ann, Sarah, Mary, or Lee. Therefore I would be a product of my own contradictions. When I was home I embraced my love for Liberia and the reading rainbow outside my home. Yet, when I entered the playground I would shy away from exposing my real heritage. As in school they didn't teach us anything good about our history or better yet the truth. My own parents turned to be Americanized leaving us blinded from both sides. We couldn't recognize our beauty because our parents spoke diffeent dialects. They didn't want friction to collide, so that's why my sisters and I would use common names like Monica and Keisha to disguise what lies between the lines.

Moreover, I stated I was lonely and that was right. I was always shy and sensitive. I thought Briana and I would be friends forever but in fifth grade her neighborhood friends would be her partners in crime. Softball and family outings I was not part of that. I was familiar with riding bikes, staying up late to the scent of cassava leaf cooking in the kitchen, and my older sisters sneaking in and out. Sleeping in a two bedroom home that my seven member family plus one outgrew. I moved to a neighboring town where diversity in cultures were no longer evident. The story of black and white arises.... You know how in school they teach the civil rights movement. You learn about the blacks living beneath the train tracks and the whites above the tracks. Well this town I moved to, Cliffwood, NJ was just like that. This is where I became aware that, "girl you are black and your Africaness does not matter here." Majority of the African Americans in one small town separated from life outside of the scene. This was my first time enduring so much brown all at once. I became even more introverted because I didn't sound or dress like them. The culture I know is different. Aside from Liberian roots they say I spoke "white." I would stay quiet but have sleepless nights. Jordan's, fanny packs, skinny jeans, north face anoraks. I didn't have that. I was wearing thrifted, Walmart, Kmart, and sometimes target goods. Did I have it good? Or have I now entered a miniature hood? No this is obviously not the hood. Everyone lives in well kept houses with two or more stories. Crime is evident but cannot be seen in plain sight. It's quiet during the day and night. Welcome to a suburban hood where everyone was cousins. Small town girl with big city dreams began during these years. My family moved around quite a lot. Yet we would always end up in a suburban location. We are not like the other black families and I was always happy to go home. The kids at school would make fun and make me feel uncomfortable. Unfamiliar settings caused pain. I don't know why I would get nervous sitting in a lunch room that had more black people than I expected. Still not enough compared to the whites. Again I would stand out. I was always too white to be black and too black to be white. In reality I was just being me and I am a Liberian-American who dislikes categories.

However in Matawan, the African American kids would stick together. It was familiar for them, they were like family. A family I wasn't apart of. I didn't want to be like them. I wanted to be me. Free in my own reality. However I wished I could feel inclusive sometimes rather than just being exclusive. In middle school we would walk in large groups. Walks from school, in the direction of Guisti park we would get light, some would even fight. Bruno's was the hotspot for us colored kids. It all felt like a scene from a movie. There would be days police cars would drive by slow. Watching us, a large group of middle school kids, all black, "What could they be up to?" By mass numbers we would walk everywhere when I got comfortable, started making "friends" and they knew who my older sister was they started to form a "trust." Annoying how everyone knew me as Sebrena's little sister but somehow I started to blend and pretend like I was like them. Still felt uncomfortable In my own skin. I started to mind my own business and just be me. Say it loud I'm black and I'm proud, I discovered during my tumblr days. Yeah the times of Mike Brown, the times when black Tumblr and twitter unified. These were my teachers, I had Know insight or knowledge of the cruelty that really occurred. The thing is that yes I was raised to love all cultures and all individuals regardless of race I would embrace. But I was blinded to the harshness blacks faced because of where I was placed. In Old Bridge, NJ the suburbs not much action would occur. Unless the events of racial profiling and cops patrolling your neighborhood would be considered a blur. I was too young to even recollect or understand a painted image of colorism. To note, Newark was where my parents settled first and that's where my current partner is from. "The hood." "Bricks City" they call it. Because the streets is rough out there and nothing can break it down. It's a strong city that sands unified regardless of what negativity is portrayed. So my love for cultures sounds pretty and nice but the strife and pain people of color faced everyday in a nearby city it was all invincible to me.

To Be Continued....

Stay Tuned For Pt. 2 Coming Soon Check Back Next Week Thanks for reading. Hope you all enjoyed and got a little insight of my life.

0 notes