The Blogger Formerly Known As Smarty, aka Tiffany, told me this weekend that me and my beige counterparts are always the most militant Negroes, and I agree. At least for myself. The evolution of my blackness saw me first DENY it (I'm Spanish/Hispanic/Dominican, not black!) and then slowly come to grips with it (deal with my 'fro, bitches!), culminating in this past weekend when I was ready to join the new Black Panthers or something.
Let's just say I've since been taught to find a happy medium. Whitey doesn't necessarily HAVE TO die, he just needs to be reined in a bit. Or a lot. Whatever.
Still, this happened in the midst of all that:
ME: I got an email for career day in October. Would it be wrong to title my presentation: How to Stay Under Whitey's Radar and Live to See Your Grandbabies?
TIFFANY: O_O!!! Massa might have a problem with that.
ME: Don't he always? I'm gonna pee in his sweet tea. "I got sumin sweet for ya, alright!"
TIFFANY: Lmao! Disgusting.
ME: No lie, that's the kind of house negro I would have been, putting shit all in their food because FUCK MASSA, that's why! ...and then I'd giggle my yellow ass all the way home at the end of the day.
TIFFANY: Lmao! Your ass woulda been in the hot box.
ME: How would they know? "What's in this?" "Adobo."
Good day, ma'am.
ME: Awww, man...!
TIFFANY: Nah, you woulda been a comfort girl 'cause you're tall. They woulda bred you with a buck to create big ol' SUPER slaves.
ME: Wait- where can I get my hands on one of those bucks though? What his mowf do?
TIFFANY: I said GOOD DAY!
*smooches...wondering what to do with this new rebellious soul*
I just want to break every rule and put my middle finger in everyone's face. but you know, I like having a job so I won't. I'll just find someplace to volunteer instead.