Still cracking up...
So, I let the kids out of the car to run into the building for midweek. They run ahead to greet their friends and I stay behind to pull a hair out of my eye. I finally get it and hop out of the car and see a favorite person throwing her purse over her shoulder. She halts and yells out, "Lemme stop since I see another brown person."
Before I continue, let me just tell you that this woman can get away with saying things like this. She means no harm and delivers it with a smile. In fact, I realize that the way she said it made me glad that I was the brown person that she was talking to. I strolled quickly (it's still March in Wisconsin) toward her and we rushed inside together instantly connecting around upcoming events and the details that come with it.
Oddly endearing, being brown makes more sense. I mean, my skin really isn't actually black. No more than "white people" are actually white.
Another name for the same club I suppose, but I really did tilt my head to the side. It made me start asking all kinds of "what if" questions. Wondering what would be different about black history if it were in fact brown history. Curious as to whether it would have developed a more positive history - less discrimination and separation - if we were a brown people rather than a black one. I know that's ridiculous, I mean South Americans don't have a easy, breezy history.
Also, just an observation but "brown" isn't really an IT color. Not in fashion, not in decor and not in impact. (Black is so DRAMATIC!) So while I appreciated my temporary membership in this club and the person who initiated me into it. I really enjoy being around this woman, but when my feet touched the ground again, I knew that the club would only exist as I mentioned it between her and some other brown girls and this blog post.
Though technically brown, I'm still black as I wanna be.
So, I let the kids out of the car to run into the building for midweek. They run ahead to greet their friends and I stay behind to pull a hair out of my eye. I finally get it and hop out of the car and see a favorite person throwing her purse over her shoulder. She halts and yells out, "Lemme stop since I see another brown person."
Before I continue, let me just tell you that this woman can get away with saying things like this. She means no harm and delivers it with a smile. In fact, I realize that the way she said it made me glad that I was the brown person that she was talking to. I strolled quickly (it's still March in Wisconsin) toward her and we rushed inside together instantly connecting around upcoming events and the details that come with it.
Oddly endearing, being brown makes more sense. I mean, my skin really isn't actually black. No more than "white people" are actually white.
Another name for the same club I suppose, but I really did tilt my head to the side. It made me start asking all kinds of "what if" questions. Wondering what would be different about black history if it were in fact brown history. Curious as to whether it would have developed a more positive history - less discrimination and separation - if we were a brown people rather than a black one. I know that's ridiculous, I mean South Americans don't have a easy, breezy history.
Also, just an observation but "brown" isn't really an IT color. Not in fashion, not in decor and not in impact. (Black is so DRAMATIC!) So while I appreciated my temporary membership in this club and the person who initiated me into it. I really enjoy being around this woman, but when my feet touched the ground again, I knew that the club would only exist as I mentioned it between her and some other brown girls and this blog post.
Though technically brown, I'm still black as I wanna be.
