It's sixth grade, and I am embarrassed and ashamed to be me.
It wasn't because I didn't like myself, no that's not why. It was because for a good chunk of my life on Earth I was relentlessly teased. It wasn't because of my miniature stature, or my thick mustache that I shouldn't have been rocking at the ripeness of my adolescents, or because of my horrible sense of fashion. It was because I wasn't black. Yes, ladies and gentlemen, the one black girl in my white-dominated school, was not black. But, I bet you're wondering: "But, how could a black person NOT be black?" Well, great question person who is reading who I pray I do not know in real life! Apparently, if you don't like rap, the latest fashion trends, can't dance, and "speak" white, then you are therefore excluded from the black community. Well, according to my cousins at least. Yes, my own family teased me for being "too white". But not only that, for having a big behind as well...the one "black" feature I had. So what'd I do? The one thing I knew how to do best: Mask. Become a facade I had not known, but yearned to be. I'd spend hours memorizing lyrics to Drake instead of listening to my usual One Direction, learning dances instead of pre-algebra, and more stereotypical things I believed aided one in being black-as if I was taking a "How to be Black 101" course. Anyway back to sixth grade. I'm in a new school and I have no friends...whooptydoo! It's second period drama class and I'm surrounded by kids who don't know me. ...They don't know me. This, this was my chance to whip out all of my hard work of playing Drake's Energy and watching Martin on a loop! I muster up the courage to speak to the girl next to me, and I say, loud and proud, "I'm Telequinisha!"... Let's stop there folks. Let's analyze the issue with this entire predicament I put myself in. Firstly, I lied. Strike one. Secondly, she knew I lied...my teacher had just called roll and I-naturally- rose my name when I heard my name. My real name. Strike two. Lastly, the name I blatantly lied about being mine was not only horrible, but also stereotypical and a little prejudice. Strike three and I'm out. With all these bad aspects of my lie weighing me down, oddly enough the girl laughed and asked me-or I mean Telequinisha- about herself. And that she did. With her thick, southern 'blaccent', Telequinisha discussed all her favorite songs, from Drake to Lil Uzi Vert and all her MCMs (Man Crush Mondays...its 2016 lingo guys). Realizing that being Telequinisha allowed me to gain friends, I soon coined her as "one of my personalities" that I used to gain friends and make people laugh. While I used this throughout all of middle school, looking back I loathe myself by bringing this persona into my life. Not because she brought anything bad into my space, no that definitely isn't the case. It's the fact that I manifested a fictional caricature of what I imagined 'black person' to be like because that's what the media kept telling me black girls were. Just weave-patting, loud, uneducated people. When I, myself, am a black girl and I am none of those things. Black people are so much more than what I and my cousins assumed. I didn't need Telequinisha in my life to show how black I could be. I am black and that's enough. My cousins are black, and that's enough. Telequinisha is black, and that's enough. Why? Because being black is enough.
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AuthorHi! I'm La'Kennya Huggins and I'm currently a senior in high school. This blog is primarily for my college course. Archives
November 2021
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