Something sticky to talk about today. Someone was talking about a certain video that stuck in her mind and brought it to the table for debate. Now, there is now way in hell one will ever get their point across through a computer, unless they can write scads of screens full of their full intent. I tried to fully convey what I thought *well, as much as possible* and it came out to a whole other realm which was NOT what I intended to say AT ALL. It was taken totally wrong and I had to re-explain myself. I know that it won’t be good enough. It will look like I amended my thinking, which I have not. I could never say all the reasons why and the intentions and what will actually happen when I teach my son about the racial issues that face us in the world in which we now live.

I never said that my son wouldn’t learn about the struggles that have faced our people. Our people includes a myriad of possibilities. This isn’t just about Black, this is about Native Americans, too. He will learn about what made Puerto Rico what it is today as well. Does that make him more or less prone to criticism when he gets older? Who knows. But he will be more prepared to face the world once he is educated enough to know they why and how of it all. He will be righteously indignant when it comes down to who says what. He controls what people ultimately think of him. That is what he will learn. He will learn to make people see him as a man and not a Black man or a Native man or a Puerto Rican man. In that, he will also celebrate himself. He will be able to see all sides and not just some boxed up package of what he should be. I won’t lie, when I saw “I feel sorry for your son” I nearly flipped my lid.

There is something that happens when someone attacks your mothering abilities and says that phrase. Something snaps. It comes down to you don’t know me. You have no clue. Nothing on this earth could make you understand where I am coming from short of knowing me up close and personal. You don’t know my personal race struggles. You have no idea what I have gone through with people torturing and taunting me as a mixed race child. You don’t have any idea what it feels like to have people telling you that you act too white to be black and you aren’t light enough to be white. Do you think they saw my Irish heritage? No. They first judged me by my skin color. When they got to KNOW me, that’s when they judged me as a person. I once had a friend who said “I didn’t like any black people till I met you. My family is racist and taught me that blacks were dirty and low. You have taught me different. I call you my sister even to my father who does not know what color you are.”

Then I met his father. He was proud to introduce me as his sister and I was happy to hug his father. He was in shock that a Black would prove him wrong. I later found out that he became more lenient and less racist against Blacks because I rose above the stereotypes. He gave more chances and began to judge on an individual basis as to what he would believe about races.

My disdain comes from the fools that Blacks make out of themselves on a daily basis. There are choices that are made that pull them right down into the statistics and stereotypes. It’s a choice to sell drugs. It’s a choice to have premarital sex. It’s a choice to get a job. It’s a choice to go to school and get educated. What choices are they making? It’s a novelty to see a Black person rise above and become an Oprah, Thurgood Marshall, Condoleeza Rice. Why? Because of the choices that are made by the so-called majority of Blacks. We have to love ourselves enough to make it happen. We have to teach self love to our children. We have to teach them not to be like the ignorant masses who would call them Nigger or Coon or whatever other colorful words that may come out of their mouths.

Is that not what disassociating yourself from the norm is about? I would rather be proud of my heritage, the struggles, the pain, and not be lumped in together with a bunch of people who behave like they have no God given sense. I know white people that do the same. They don’t want to be lumped in with their racist brethren, so they rise above. The become something better than the norm.