After writing that last blog (Don’t Forget Your Race Cards… This Is a Long One, Folks), standing in the cooling rain, and listening to Gym Class Heroes’ Cruel As School Children, I am feelin’ super good right now.
God, it feels good to vent, ya’ know? I think everybody should do it at least once to twice a week, just to relieve yourself without hitting somebody or hurting yourself.
This is my new way of self-medication. My new way to release. My new little (pandora) box of sunshine.
Don't Forget Your Race Cards... This Is A Long One, Folks...
Yesterday during my Math Models class, about 5 or 6 kids (supposed "friends of mine" whose names will not be mentioned in this blog) were talking in the back of the class, being loud and obnoxious like they usually are. And as they were talking, they brought a few memories from the 7th and 8th grade.
"I remember when I saw always hanging with so-and-so and always getting into fights with this-and-that person."
"I remember that, too. And that time when such-and-such got caught doing this-and-that in the school."
"Remember that person? I wonder what happen to them?
It was all fine and dandy… That is of course, until my name was mentioned.
"Hey, y’all remember when TaVon was black?”
"Yeah, I remember that time when so-and-so pulled out her ponytail (when she use to wear them)." (obnoxious kids laugh)
"And she used to dance and party like a black girl?”
“And when she use to listen to Hip Hop a lot and stuff?
"And this-and-that-and the other?"
Now, I’ve done my best to hold my tongue and blow it off and pretend like it’s nothing, but this hasn’t been the first time I’ve heard this crap. I tried to think about it as just a bunch of dumb kids talking out of their butts, but after hearing this from so many people and basically being told I’m not "black" anymore so many times, it’s finally sink in.. and I’m finally pissed.
Yes, I have changed just a bit.
I’m no longer super loud and super obnoxious and ignorant. I’m no longer as super violent as I was a few years ago. I’m don’t hang out with the same bad influences I used to. I think a lot more positive and smile a lot more than what I did way back when. I’m more confident in myself and everything that I do. I don’t try to impress everybody and make every single person like me anymore. I’m a lot more honest with myself and others now. I don’t lock myself in my room and just sit around on the computer or play video games all the time. I don’t hate the world or myself so much anymore. I realized that there’s still hope in me. I realized that I can trust (most) of the people around me with my life. I treat my mom 20 million times better than I used to, and argue with her very little nowadays. I still have tomboy tendencies in me, but I act more like a girl now, and do girly things from time to time. I’m no longer super tacky, and care about myself.
I actually have a life now. I’m a lot more happier.
I’m proud of every change I have made.
But it seems that close to nobody else wants to see it as good.
When I’m told that I’m not “black” anymore, words can’t describe how pissed off I really get. I’m being downgraded from my race. So when asked, these are some the excuses I’ve been given on why I’m no longer “black” in their eyes:
Because I listen to Rock — which they refer to as “White People’s Music”— more than I do Hip Hop and R&B, and have gone to more Rock concerts that Rap,
Because I don’t talk loud all the time and curse people out all the time or say “nigga” in every single sentence (though I do say it sometimes),
Because I talk proper and have a large vocabulary and act sensible,
Because I don’t act like I wasn’t raised better,
Because I don’t wear “Apple Bottoms” and “South Pole” and “Baby Phat” and dress up like a video hoe,
Because I don’t do dances to (stupid and senseless) songs like “Soulja Boy” and “The Stanky Leg” and “Ricky Bobby”,
Because I don’t act “Ghetto Fabulous”,
Because I sing vocals in a Rock band instead of an R&B group,
Because I don’t go to house parties thrown by kids my age and drink and smoke and do all these other things that most kids my age —(under)age— do, and hang out with an older crowd of (good) people,
Because I do go to clubs with my older friends that play more Rock and Techno and Rave than they do Hip Hop and R&B,
Because I watch the Fuse Channel and MTV than I do BET,
Because I’m far more attracted to “white boys” than I am Black guys and don’t find many black men attractive at all,
Because I hang out with more white people than I do black people,
Because I don’t fit the standards and requirements of a stereotypical black person/woman does on the daily basis.
Not saying that all of this is “stereotypical,” but these are the main reasons why I’m no considered “black.”
My skin color is brown, my mom and dad’s skin colors are brown (my dad being dark chocalate brown ^_^), my brothers (on both my mom and dad’s side) all have brown skin, and the last time I checked, all of out birth certificates said “Race/Ethnicity: Black/African-American” on them. And yet, I’m not “black.” I’m not what God made me. I’m not what my DNA says I am. I’m not the race I was “assigned” at birth.
Who knew everything had a Race boundary? Who would have thought the clothes we wear, the music we listen to, the friends we have, the vocabulary we had, the TV Shows we watched, the way we handled ourselves, and the everyday decisions we make and actions we take would decide our true ethnicity instead of the DNA we gained from our parents and their ancestors?
Ignorance is truly bliss in this amazing country we live in.
My name is Ta’Von Marshea* Jackson, and I, my friends, am an Black// African- American female.
I make my own decisions, and do what I want to do, because God gave me the power to do it. I listen to what I want, I go wherever I want to, I make friends and hang out with whoever I want, I party with whoever I want, I watch whatever I want, and everything else I do or have done, I mostly chose on my own free will. I don’t act like the stereotypical black woman because I choose not to. I can be, do, say, listen to, dress like, act like, and think whatever I want to, talk to whoever (or whatever) I want to, and not a single human being can do anything about. Not you, not him, not her, not them, not the police, not the Governor of Texas, not even Barack Obama himself. They can try and stop me, but they’ll only be wasting their time.
Even after death, I will still be me. Get use to that thought, kids.
In the end, we’re all not so different. We breathe the same polluted air. We walk on the same surfaces. We shed the same amount of blood and tears, and we dance to our own beating drums. Most importantly, we all want to be different from the rest of the world.
What most people don’t realize is that we’re all the same simply because we want to be different. We’re equal because we want to be individuals. Being different has become the American Dream if you think about.
I’ve come to notice that the majority of the people I look up to and idealize the most all have had major mental, emotional, and personal problem. They’ve been addicted to a drug, have had major breakdowns and meltdowns, or have done something extremely controversial, or all of the above. Each of them have had something pretty bad happen to them, been wronged upon, and have struggled with personal demons.
Their imperfections always seem to make them so much more attractive to me. It makes them look much more superior. And the connections I have with them when I meet them or hang out with them or talk to them is more overwhelming and makes the moment more rewarding. More cherishable.
“I enjoyed the days when life for most of us may not have been all that great, but we made the best of out of it anyway. When we all thought we were living the “good life.” When the biggest problems we were ever faced with was choosing what cereal we wanted our parent(s) to get or which toy did you want them to buy. When the only thing we argued about was which cartoon channel was better. When the only thing we ever hated was when our parents chose what we were gonna wear for the first day of school instead of letting us be big kids (although we were only like, 7 years old) and choosing our clothes ourselves.”—TaVon Jackson // Jodi-KaoS, February 9th, 2009
I remember Kurt Cobain saying in a interview, “I wouldn’t have been so odd if I coulda just found somebody that had weird hair.” He said that he couldn’t find anybody that wasn’t your average kid, normal. He just wanted to find somebody that was completely different from everybody else.