Paths Not Taken

South Carolina is a place of beauty and has the most friendliest people you would ever want to meet. I guess I’m a little biast being that I was born and raised here. It’s rich in history both good and bad, but it’s home and I wouldn’t change the experiences that I’ve had here. Of course racism is STILL alive and well here and THAT I will not deny. I was encouraged to interact and befriend people of all walks of life and not discriminate against anyone who was different than me. (thank you momma & daddy). I was tought to not limit myself to just one perspective. I was exposed to different cultures, music, etc. which taught me to think with an open mind and not pass judgment on others. The agency I work for is predominatly black and the people we serve are predominatly black. Now we do have clients from different races that need assistance and we service them because that’s what we do, if your in need we’re there to help regardless of who you are. Well, when at work I’m in my "professional mode" meaning that my demenour is strictly business, that is until I get a call from the bigot from hell! People say I sound "white" on the phone (whatever, I LOVE Julia Sugarbaker) so when I get openly angry racial phone calls from white clients who has a complaint I can’t help but turn into my Julia Sugarbaker mode and have a damn ball! Here’s how the conversation went:

Me:________________, how may I help you?

Angry Bigot: I need to talk to somebody about the girl in your _____________office!

Me: The girl sir? Is there a problem that I can help you with?

Angry Bigot: Is you the director of this thang?

Me: Why no sir I’m not, she’s out of the office, but please explain your situation and maybe I can help.

Angry Bigot: You sound like you one of us so I can talk to you.

*Now it’s on and poppin*  I’m in full Julia Sugarbaker mode now.

Me in full Southern drawl: Of course I am, tell me what happened.

Angry Bigot: Those niggers (no he didn’t) told me that they didn’t have any funds up there and I know they do. They being racial (yes he did say racial) I need my light bill paid and them niggers sit up there all day and don’t do nothin. They ought to take all them coloreds(yes he did say colored) and fire all their asses. I’m callin the head office in _________ and lettin them know what they doin, I know you understand because you have to work round them. I bet you the only white girl there ain’t you?

He just don’t know!!!

Me being the sarcastic shit that I am: Sir, I fully understand what your saying.

Angry Bigot: I knowd you would, yous a smart girl.

Me again, being the sarcastic shit that I am in complete southern drawl: Yes sir, I understand all too well what you’re saying but what YOU fail to understand is that it wouldn’t be in your best interest to file a complaint because our entire conversation is being monitored and I don’t think it would be in your favor to make a complaint based on racism. Not only have you made derogatory remarks against the employees here but you also held an entire conversation with a BLACK WOMAN, which by the way makes you the racist. Gosh, how are you going to explain that when you call the head office?

*crickets chirping*

Angry now turned humble bigot: Well, ma’am (notice it’s ma’am now) I just needed my bill paid and I was just angry, I’m so sorry.

Me: Well, the next time you feel the need to turn into Super Natzi, especially when you are in need of help and we niggers are the only people that could assist you, I’d be very careful with my choice of words and with whom I’m speaking because you never know!!

End of Conversation

I don’t deal with racism like this often, but when I do, It’s the most comical thing you would ever want to see. Partly because I don’t take bigots seriously, so instead of flying off the handle I choose to utilize my sarcasm skills to the point where they feel like the complete idiots that they are. I also know that maybe I shouldn’t have led this man to believe that I was white, but hell, after all of his nasty comments I just couldn’t help my damn self, I’m intitled to some fun at his expense too ain’t I????

I’ve always wondered if there was someone out there who had the same thought process as I did. Back in high school I can vividly remember being labled as not being "black" enough or not being "light" enough. I always had that pressure of being either one or the other. I often felt that I had to hide my real identity to comply with what others thought was acceptable, like the music I liked to even the clothes I wore. The more I tried to hide who I really was the more unhappy I felt. As I’ve grown, I’ve come to the conclusion that it wasn’t me who had an identity comlex, I was fine the whole time. It was them that wasn’t open enough to venture outside of their little world to see the many different possibilities that the world had to offer. What I wear, the music I listen to, and the way I carry myself does not identify my blackness. My blackness comes from within, it’s in my heart. This is something I will carry with me as long as I exist and I will wear it proudly. I no longer need the opinons of others to identify the person that I am. The truth is, I’m black, beautiful, and proud to be just that. Who I am, the music I listen to, the people I befriend holds no bearings on my ethnicity, it only makes me more open to the world around me and if you don’t understand that which I’m saying, then maybe you were’nt meant to.

I recently had this conversation with a dear friend of mine. We both grew up in different towns but pretty much had the same views. We listened to the same music, and we both felt that we had to "fit in". Our experiences has made us the people we are today, professional, strong willed, and not afraid to take a stand for what we believe in. It took several years for our paths to cross, but I think it was for a reason. It’s amazing to share past experiences with someone who "gets it" and not judge. Friends like this comes once in a lifetime. My mother always said that if you could count your friends on one hand, your the luckiest person in the world, and my mother was never wrong about things like this.

With that said…..Dear Friend, I thank you for your understanding and the ability to stay true to who you are. Your ability to listen, your capability to comprehend the words I cannot speak, and for teaching me that it’s ok to feel.

Thank you!

Oh yeah, don’t go ego trippin just because I wrote all of this sappy shit, I just threw back a couple of Heinekens.

I just came to the realization that haters hate because 1) They have no life. 2) They have nothing better to do. and 3) They see in you the things that they wish they could be. I noticed this earlier this afternoon when a female relative commented on the nail polish I was wearing. (I know……stupid shit right?) She said that because of my complextion (Which is a beautiful warm caramel THANK YOU VERY MUCH!!!!) I should use lighter colors like the hot ass mess light pink glow in the dark french manicure she was wearing (NO COMMENT ON THAT ONE) 

Now, first of all, I don’t sit in my office all day and collect phone calls at a damn call center, nor do I have time to swamp beauty secrets with the ghetto minded! I work with the public, I have to present myself with the utmost professionalism EVERYDAY! How would I look coming into my office wearing hot pink, blue, organge shit on my fingers. My clients might think that I’m the one who needs help with getting my life straight!

I have a tendency to call people out when needed, but this is Memorial weekend and the family is together…..so I just politely smiled and went on my way, when what I really wanted to say was: How in holy hell you gon sit there and tell me what the fuck I should wear because of my complexion when you don’t even have YOUR shit together? See, first of all I don’t need any one telling me what I should or shouldn’t wear because of my complexion. I am happy with myself, I just gave myself a Memorial Day manicure…..can you say the same? Oh, I forgot you couldn’t…..you just jumped off of an 18 wheeler with your man, (scared he might be doing more than delivering freight huh). I don’t have to comply with what you or anyone else think is best for me. My compexion is just that…..MY COMPLEXION, I refuse to change it or dress it up the way YOU think I should. Get your shit together first…..then come back to me!

Anyway, in my line of work I have to dress, talk, and look the part. I am not going to preach to my clients about professionalism in the work place when I look a hot damn mess. I feel that if I were to do that, my clients would feel that they could approach me in any kind of way. Just the same as if I were to go out to the local hole in the wall justa bumpin and grindin and end up bumpin into a client! That would be some nasssssssty shit. So, to avoid that EVER happening….the hubby and I go to jazz clubs far from where we live. What it all boils down to is that I am respected among the community and my clients…..and nail color is the least of my worries!!

Gettin back to this heifer….I love myself and there is nothing that I will change to comply to your version of beauty. I LOVE my damn haute red nail polish, if you don’t like it….tough shit because you didn’t buy the mother fucker. 

In the words of Celie: I may be poor…..black….hell, I may even be ugly…..but dear God, I’m here!!! and all I have to say to Miss. Fashion Mishap……HATE ON HATER…..HATE ON!