You see the way my hair curls up when it hits the water, that’s the Latina in me. A black woman’s hair isn’t good enough to do that. Those nappy wefts of weeds are no where near curly.
You see how well spoken I am, my college degree. How I am able to use big and shiny words like P-O-N-T-F-I-C-A-T-E. That is the white girl in me. Black women are entirely too busy worrying about twerking and men to know how to use big and shiny words like that.
Did you notice my skin color. Yeah, it is a little on the dark side but look closely. Take notice of the deep, red undertones. That right there is from my Native American roots. No, I am not sure which tribe and I don’t plan on finding out.
What about my almond shaped eyes? That truly can be from many different parts of my heritage. Asian, Latina, Middle Eastern. But I know it certainly ain’t black.
Feel the curves of my body, the fullness of my lips. I once thought that might have been from the drops of blackness in me, but I know now that it is more of an Armenian feature.
Have you been paying attention to my strut? The way I glide around the room like a gentle breeze is elevating my feet just above the ground. Well that is the Egyptian in me. While that is in Africa, I really don’t associate the two.
Have you noticed how hard I work? I stay up late finishing my work and wake up early to pick up where I left off. That is determination. It is certainly not a black trait. I just attribute it to my European heritage. Maybe Germany, Ireland, Nova Scotia or something.
You see, I am not black. I am not black. I am not black. I am everything but black. Everything that I admire in myself tells me that I am not black. I am smart, well spoken, worldly. I HAVE RED UNDERTONES! I am not black. There is no unity in the black community. There is no pride. No love. Why would I want to be a part of that?