I woke up thinking, I must be crazy...
And then it dawned on me: I woke up.
It's strange how little things, simple, seemingly inconsequential things, can be so powerful.
There was a time when I worried—rather I felt like I needed to prove myself. The funny thing was that I didn't fully understand my own actions, or worry. I had no desire to be valedictorian or attend Harvard. Similarly, I had no desire to be "hood." Yet, I wanted it to not be a shock that I was the one who threw off the curve (which happened a lot more often than my classmates realized—*insert evil laughter*) or have people saying to me "well they just considered you because of affirmative action." Pardon the conceit, but I knew I was smart—I knew I deserved every A and every scholarship I received. I knew it, but I wanted everyone else to know it. So I was determined to be great at everything—great above and beyond expectation. Mangled in that storm was the desire to not be the white sheep at the black sheep party. I didn't want to be the out of the loop, not "black enough" oddball, who people said didn't count because I wasn't from where they were from, and I wasn't dark enough to stand out in the pictures, and I didn't always like what they liked. Somewhere in the confusion, I found myself.
I was listening to Brittney Spears, Jessica Simpson, et. al, when I hung out with my classmates and I was going to the movies with those friends to see Phantom of the Opera and Finding Neverland. At the same time I'm watching Friday, Barbershop, and Soul Food and listening to 112, Jodeci, Snoop Dogg (pardon: Snoop Lion). I was reading the books the teacher assigned, but I was also reading Toni Morrison, Alice Walker, Maya Angelou, Jean Toomer, Countee Cullen... But I was mad. I was pissed off that I couldn't just be there without people having something to say. I was angry that people seemed to think these things polar opposites, two ends of a Black and White spectrum that was missing the gray in the middle. Why should I have to do the most to be both intelligent by my own right, not a sell out, and culturally aware? Every conversation was a reminder of what people expected of me in contrast to who I really was.
Sometimes, I woke up thinking, why bother?
Interestingly enough, I found that I find interesting things in all genres. My playlist ranges from classical to gangsta rap, from country to neo-soul, from reggaeton to rock. My DVD collection spans from Disney to Underworld, from LOTR to Mean Girls, from Tyler Perry to Sex in the City, from Anime to the Fast and the Furious. Let's not even venture in to the span of books (too many of those to process). That's who I always was—in a way I was searching for balance, but in another way, I was just doing what I wanted to do. What made me angry was people not understanding me—assuming I should choose. Then I came to resent people in general—sometimes I still do.
I'm hard on people; I'm often told I have no sympathy and that I don't know what it's like. They're right; I don't have sympathy—I have empathy. I've been at that point where you just want to stop and sit, press pause and disappear. Unfortunately, I also know that no one can move you but you. And I know, it was the little things that made me happy. Knowing that I was alive. Seeing the sun after a rainy day. Watching baby squirrels. Being able to stand close to hummingbird. A few good friends. Smiles from strangers. Random acts of kindness. I realized that when I focused on the good things and when I focused on doing positive things—none of the other stuff mattered.
I read these articles about youth committing suicide and bullying—yes a part of me is saying "Man up!" but another part is crying for them. I just want to say you don't have to walk into walls; you can take a left or a right--heck you can make a U-turn if you want. There will always be bad things, but there will always be good things as well. Find something good and enjoy it. If you can't find it, make it (I guarantee there's someone else looking for some good and fun too)!
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