I became aware of my racial identity from a really young age by the experiences my parents told me they had. I don’t think I became full aware until I got my first job at 15. I’m not even sure if it was 15. I had the realization when I was around 17. The first few months I worked at my job as a lifeguard being black, I had a lot of older patrons stop and ask me “are you really certified?” Or “can you really save me?” At first I thought it was because I was new and didn’t trust me or that I was fat and didn’t think I was strong enough. But when I asked other guards that were white and new like me, no one ever made a second glance at them. I used to get mixed up with the only other black girl who doesn’t even look like me or even have the same personality as me.
Although I take this opportunity to use my racial identity to my advantage. I used to be a swim coach with a friend of mine who was white. I would be in charge of promoting the team so I would but out posters and have the front desk make announcements. The school that we worked with was a predominantly black school. I’d hear whispers and laughs from the kids saying how they’d drown if they ever get in the water. I would stop them and ask why did they think that? They’d tell me they’d never swam before. How would you know if you haven’t tried that or was never let the opportunity? I’d convince them to come in and the first day I would get in the water and swim around and the kids would think I was a mermaid. The look in their eyes was sparkling. I never had a time to fully teach them all of the strokes that they were meant to do but to see their parents cheer them on just for finishing one lap always made my day. I think they’re hopes were higher because they were able to see someone like them achieve something they thought they couldn’t do because of the color of their skin. I would tell the kids, you can always look at Micheal Phelps or Katie Ledeckey but if you want a true role model to look at Simone Manual, the first African American woman to win a gold medal for an individual event in the Olympics.
I have a vivid memory about making friends in the first grade. I don’t know what I did wrong or if I said something weird but I remember none of the black girls wanted to play with me. I started playing with the white kids and class and just stuck there. I was never mad or offended about it cause I never thought about race at the time. All I know is I would constantly get teased by them so I left them alone. I’m usually the only black person in the groups of friends that I have but it’s never bothered me.
I don’t meet a lot of stereotypes for black people and have been told things like I need to listen to the songs of “my people” (from other black people!). First of all, if I want to listen to someone screaming death metal in my ear or listen to Korean men not knowing what the hell they’re saying then I’m going to do what I want and that doesn’t make me any less black than any other black person. What is so bad about not following stereotypes and living the life the way I want to? Being told that I don’t speak in a certain way, or act in a certain way and make it feel like I’m less than you are for just existing. Because I have different opinions, different tastes, or different religious beliefs. Always feeling like a puzzle piece that was never part of the set. The ironic part is, 9 times out of 10, it was a black person telling me these things. Like I was some kind of disgrace. So, when I think of “suffering” because of my racial identity, it was more of me never fitting a stranded. Never being good enough for others rather than feeling oppressed. Of course, I’ve had times like that but it’s the other memories that stick more with me.
