I was taught to not talk to strangers but this childhood warning
crumbles when my face is the only one that is different walking down the street.
I hungrily search for other strange faces like my own. Even daring to look them
directly in the eye. There’s this yearning for recognition by my hungry brown
eyes, a simple acknowledgement of the fact that our skin tones are darker than
the passerby around us, a slight upward curve of the lips. Something that says,
“Hey, I see you,” without having to verbalize it. A calm sweeps over me. I am
not alone in this crowd of strangers.
Yet my eyes only yearn for the food that is comfortable eating. Any
pupils that appear to have been licked by the lower economic spectrum, my iris’
are quick to avert their attention elsewhere. My conscious mind tells me that I
don’t need validation from those
kinds of people, for they might be dangerous. But my subconscious knows the
truth. It always does. This simple gesture of acknowledgment is seen by those
around me. The white face I am hopelessly trying to escape but desperately
trying to express my own self-worth among them. Somewhere
inside me, I know the small nod or slight up turn of the mouth when passing by
one of these hardened black faces that has been deemed unworthy simply by the
attire of dress reflects back onto myself and thus brings down my own worthiness
by the white faces around me.
In these few seconds I can go from being accepted to being completely
alone.
I have a choice to make.
Acknowledge my supposed ‘brother in arms’ or look away and keep the
validation of the strange men and women around me? A thought crosses my mind.
Why do I group myself with other black faces? I know them as much as the white
men and women around me. Yet I compare myself and deem myself responsible for
the choices of these black faces. I’m walking the lines between stereotypes yet
I am contributing to the false nature
that black people can be grouped together
by simply choosing whom I do and do not acknowledge walking down the street.
All for what?
So that the white faces around me don’t cower at the sight of my skin?
crumbles when my face is the only one that is different walking down the street.
I hungrily search for other strange faces like my own. Even daring to look them
directly in the eye. There’s this yearning for recognition by my hungry brown
eyes, a simple acknowledgement of the fact that our skin tones are darker than
the passerby around us, a slight upward curve of the lips. Something that says,
“Hey, I see you,” without having to verbalize it. A calm sweeps over me. I am
not alone in this crowd of strangers.
Yet my eyes only yearn for the food that is comfortable eating. Any
pupils that appear to have been licked by the lower economic spectrum, my iris’
are quick to avert their attention elsewhere. My conscious mind tells me that I
don’t need validation from those
kinds of people, for they might be dangerous. But my subconscious knows the
truth. It always does. This simple gesture of acknowledgment is seen by those
around me. The white face I am hopelessly trying to escape but desperately
trying to express my own self-worth among them. Somewhere
inside me, I know the small nod or slight up turn of the mouth when passing by
one of these hardened black faces that has been deemed unworthy simply by the
attire of dress reflects back onto myself and thus brings down my own worthiness
by the white faces around me.
In these few seconds I can go from being accepted to being completely
alone.
I have a choice to make.
Acknowledge my supposed ‘brother in arms’ or look away and keep the
validation of the strange men and women around me? A thought crosses my mind.
Why do I group myself with other black faces? I know them as much as the white
men and women around me. Yet I compare myself and deem myself responsible for
the choices of these black faces. I’m walking the lines between stereotypes yet
I am contributing to the false nature
that black people can be grouped together
by simply choosing whom I do and do not acknowledge walking down the street.
All for what?
So that the white faces around me don’t cower at the sight of my skin?