"I'm very proud to be black, but black is not all I am. That's my cultural, historical background, my genetic makeup, but it's not all of who I am nor is it the basis from which I answer every question."....as quoted by Denzel Washington, who unknowingly explains the heart of my soul and how it came to be.
"All that I am is from all that I have become".....as quoted by Larry's Daughter.
Does your ethnicity come from whom you were born, what you were taught or where your life leads you?
Today, I saw this couple...black, 30ish, happy…a chick like me that has lived her life solely only on instinct can always tell. Of course, that immediately intrigued me considering I have not been in an “appropriate” relationship, in months, damn near years (fuk it...maybe never? Don't worry, I'll sell you that horse on another date.) Nevertheless, what really set my wheels to turning was the fact they had on all this, what I consider, Black “culturally stigmatized gear.” The guy caught my attention first. He had on the ever-present Timberlands, gold rimmed glasses (as in 90ish Gazelle like), jeans with characters on the pockets (maybe Fat Albert?? Tweety? Osama Bin Laden?), and a black leather jacket with lettering stenciled in gold thread on the back. I wanted to say it was the popular “Davoucci” brand until I went to their website and saw that their stuff is quite tight, very urban sexy. The male models made my mouth flat out spit-drool. Anyone that knows me knows that I love my man edgy, brooding and typically a “bad boy” billboard. That usually is what gets me into all types of ish, but that is also another story for another day. Anyway, what was advertised on the Davoucci site was completely in a different stratosphere (maybe hood?) than what my man was rocking.
Just so you know......I am a Chi-Town girl through and through by way of El Mempho fa sho, fa sho; so, I would say his jacket was seriously Southside 47th street, 63rd and Halsted Street or maybe even Westside Madison Street. The young lady had on some jeans that made my eyes water, as they were positively something I had never seen or could even possibly imagine leaving a clothing rack in my hands intoxicated and insane. Although she was on the slender side, the fit of the jeans left a lot to be desired........as in she should have desired a better damn fit! They were sorta kinda high-waisted, when they weren’t supposed to be, curved in where they should have went straight, bell bottoms with bongs off and no noise. She even had nerve enough to tuck them inside some leather wedge boots I solemnly suspected popped out the window of one of those Westside Madison shops next to where her boy got his Cartoon Network fix. I also knew there could have been a slight chance they materialized out of one of those $9.99 Chernin’s stores that have mysteriously popped up all over everywhere like liquor stores in the hood, AFTER being ran out of Chi-dodge some 15 odd years ago. I tell ya!! Those boots were like the step-sister of the rich kid; in the family, but not the real McCoy. I may not be rich, but as my girl say, “I may not know nothing, but I damn sho know shoes.”
All of this observation brought me to the point of where does MY ethnicity fit into all of this? Now, don't think I looked down on them, I absolutely did not!! (I had to clean up that ish before somebody lost they church on me. WHEW!) They were actually a physically attractive couple. As a matter of fact, a broad was a tad bit jealous of the evidentiary "I'm gone get some tonight" feelings glowing in their eyes between them, considering I ain't had none since none had me. DAYUM! So, why in hayell did their gear immediately make me check my own and thank God I didn’t “look” like them? They were clean, neat, color-coordinated, in lust at the very least and just not my friggin’ style.
Don't get me wrong...I ain't got two g-dayum nickels to rub together and I was still an ad for "I rather go naked than wear fur or that ish they got on." Am I bourgeois and broke? Are they more culturally in touch with their "blackness" than my mutt raced behind? Am I trying to be white associative by not adapting their, dare I say it, horrid fashion sense? And, since I am not trying to emulate their fashion sense, am I committing a black faux pas? Is it wrong for me to want to leave Phat Farm on the farm and to express mail my ass to EXPRESS every time I sniff a sale?!
MOST IMPORTANTLY....Did my multiracial, but strongly steeped in southern blackness (as in would slap you in a MINO in church!), parents raise me incorrectly by sheltering me from the racial climate of the southern 1970’s, therefore giving me a false sense of who I am and what I should be, or what fashion (or heaven forbid! cultural) climate I should embrace? Am I a “sell-out?” What and whose decision makes me or makes me not?
DAMMIT!! AM I ETHNIC ENOUGH??
Now that is the question of the day, boys and girls. Go ahead....please talk amongst yourselves, I need all the help I can get….I will be right back after the next break.
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