“And what are you, exactly?”
Here I am, sitting in a bar with a friend and their friend from high school, let’s call this guy “Smith.” So, Smith has just met me and he has taken a particular interest in me. All night he’s been asking me leading questions like, “where is your family from?” and “what does your father do for a living?”, as well as my personal favorite, “you’re very tan, did you just get back from vacation?”. I suppose my answers (“Ohio”, “insurance”, “nope”) were unsatisfactory because they did not give him any indication as to what I was.
“I’m a woman,” I replied, “I was pretty sure that the long hair, birthing hips and boobs were a dead giveaway…”
Here is where I usually get an uncomfortable look/laugh but Smith seemed downright exasperated and that is what annoys me. Clearly, my sarcasm had flown right over his pretty, little, faux-hawked head. He rolls his eyes in frustration, I die a little inside. Let me reiterate, I don’t mind if people are curious about my looks or ethnicity, but what really kills me is when people are on a mission to find out whether I am black or white before they even try to get to know me.
“I mean, are you mixed or something?”
I admit to being a little drunk and a little bored with this conversation, so at once, I give him the full rundown, hoping that will answer all future questions and this way, we can move on and talking about something really interesting like beer or Project Runway. Black, yadda-yadda, very light, whatever. Smith’s eyes suddenly got very big and he started screaming, “I knew it! I knew there was something in you!” Okay. Now, I’ve heard this a lot and I’m never really sure how to respond. Pat on the back? Thumbs up? Let me just assure you, this in not a game called “Spot the Negro,” and there is no cash prize for correctly identifying that someone that (gasp) might not be white.
But then Smith said something to me that no one, no one, has ever said to me before. After hearing that people ask me a lot about my ethnicity, he suggested that I come up with some clever little catch-phrase that might clarify things. Catch phrase. Catch phrase? Even if I had some sort of banging catch phrase (seriously, I’m at a loss, any suggestions?) I would never use one. Let me give you a couple reasons why I am above such a thing.
First and foremost, I’m not a secondary character in some shitty ABC sitcom or reality show. I do not use catch phrases because I refuse to be reduced to a cartoon. Get that? I am not your sassy, black friend. Don’t ask me to snap my fingers and call you “girlfriend” either. I don’t do catch phrases. I’ll use full sentences, when you ask me an important question regarding myself, my family, my history, if you don’t mind.
You may think that I am being unnecessarily harsh on poor Smith’s suggestion. Hell, maybe you’re even on board with the catch phrase idea. But how do you boil down the decades of rape, slavery, and racism that make up my familial history into just a few words? Excuse me, a few smart, funny, catchy words? I just think that the truth, the full truth, is better. I guess the truth is complicated and uncomfortable. A catch phrase, however, is not. It’s simple, it’s lighthearted and it puts everyone at ease (or annoys them to death). But is it my responsibility to make sure everyone is happy and smiling? Especially when they are grilling me about what I am?
My famous catch phrase comic. Yeah, I whipped it up in 5 mins, wanna fight about it?
