God, I HATE being called that. It’s so rude, so demeaning, so incredibly disrespectful. And the worst part is… I can’t really say anything about it. Or, at least, if I do it gets:
a) brushed off as my being over-sensitive and/or over-reacting
b) me in trouble (WHAT. THE. FUCK.) for “trying to cause problems”
Let’s just get this nice and ironed out.
I have black friends.
I have Hispanic friends.
I have white friends.
I have Asian friends.
I have guy friends.
I have girl friends.
I have straight friends.
I have gay friends.
I have bi friends.
Tall friends. Short friends. Atheistic friends. Religious friends. Bilingual friends. Southern friends. Northern friends.
Friends that party, friends that barely ever leave their homes. Friends who sleep around, friends who have never even kissed someone until their wedding day. Sane friends. Insane friends. Smart & dumb friends.
Get the picture?
I don’t care what your hair color is, what your GPA is, what your first language is or if you have a second, what your sexual orientation is or what tattoos you have. I just don’t. There are some people I like, and some people I can’t stand. I’m human. So why is it that my defining quality when interacting with those of other races is that I’m a “White Girl”? What right do you have to try and limit my person to the color of my skin (which I really had no say in, people)?
I really shouldn’t let it bother me so much. I know that. And usually I’m pretty good at shrugging it off. But I’m warning the world at large, right here and now, that the next person who makes a “your sister is black?” comment (my baby sister is 17 years younger than me and yes, my step-father is African-American) is probably going to die. And the first time I here someone say the mirror statement to HER… well, I’ve been called scary when angry before. Apparently (and you didn’t hear this from me) I have a sharp tongue that tends to be rather vicious when loosed.
People have already flat-out asked my mother “so, is she being raised to be black or white?”.
Oh. My. Fucking. God.
They have no idea how lucky they were that my younger, kinder, more patient sister was the one with my mother that day. Because, even now, just thinking about it makes me feel a thick, roiling cloud of dark anger oozing through my soul.
Right. So, obviously this is a touchy topic for me. It never used to be, but when my mom remarried (I was 15) and I began to receive “the looks” and hear all the comments from the uneducated, prejudiced, racist dicks in the world, it slowly became a sore spot.
Because I love my Step-dad. He is the sweetest, most gentle man I know who has this amazing ability to let the cruelty of others slide right off his shoulders like raindrops on a window. He’s my dad, in every way that matters. The fact that our skin isn’t the same color is utterly irrelevant when he gives me hugs or tells a bad joke. He’s just.. my dad.
Because I completely adore my baby sister. She is the brightest, most wonderful thing in my world. And it kills me that people are going to try so hard to steal her beautiful innocence. She is my baby sister. She has the most gorgeous caramel skin and this incredible smile that no one can resist. She is the closest thing to perfection that I have ever encountered.
It makes me cringe to think of all the prejudiced, hurtful crap that she is going to have to endure just because her parents happen to be an inter-racial couple. It makes me want to rip people apart and use them for potion ingredients.
To every snotty person who thought they were scoring a point by refusing to call me by my name…
bully ignorant jerk who thought it was funny to make jokes about my pale skin…
To every supervisor who turned a blind eye or reprimanded me for daring to react…
I just want you all to know that the only thing you accomplished was to make your ignorance and small-mindedness blatantly obvious. Well, that, and you forced me to become comfortable in my own skin if for no other reason than to spite you.
So, yes, I am a girl and I am white. I am also an A student, an avid reader, a pretty damn good cook, a loyal friend, a size 6, a good worker, a brunette.
I also have a name. And several nicknames.
But if it gives you so much satisfaction you can call me “white girl”.
I still hate it. My reasons still stand. And it still might provoke homicidal feelings, sometimes. But all you are going to see is amusement. Superior amusement. Why?
Because there will be no doubt in either of our minds that YOU have just placed yourself beneath me and every other person who you have sought to torment/mock in such a manner.
And I applaud you.
This is not meant to offend anyone, and I apologize if it does. This is just the frustrated rantings of a girl who is tired of being silent about something she deems important. And, in case you couldn’t tell, it’s mostly aimed at a few select people I have the misfortune of being acquainted with.