Things I think about while discussing the Harlem Renaissance with clueless classmates
Growing Up Whitegirl in America
Chapter One
Nine years old – Minority Rules:
I am white like I am the shortest in the class and supposed to wear glasses but those have been hidden in the cubbies for a year and a half another week won’t hurt them.
Amy sometimes wears her glasses but she is not short she’s average and she is Vietnamese at least her parents are which I guess makes her Asian but not Asian like Alan who just came from Hong Kong because China gets it next year. He speaks Cantonese and cusses English because John was assigned to him (John speaks Cantonese and English and his hair flops in his face) and taught Alan shit and damn and fart and bitch but forgot good morning and could you please pass the markers.
After chopsticks yet yi som say mm luk we present about our ancestors coming to America. I am just white. I am not white like Gareth who has a Mum and a Da and every summer goes to the mother country where they blow spit out of both corners of their mouths to say a double-el. I don’t really know my people were here in the sixteen- and seventeen-hundreds and before that who knows but I’m basically white and my family’s name is English so I guess I’m from England take a bow sit down. Brianna and Tamara don’t say Ellis Island or grandparents or last week on Air-India either, we already learned about their families in class (not their families specifically but how else could they be here, right?) about the chains and the ships so they’ve been Here a long time too and their families’ names are also English so I guess that makes them African American but not hyphenated like Peruvian-Mexican-American little Angela with her papi who tried to protect his four daughters but one still can’t come home or she'll get shot.
So then we’re all Americans I aks Daddy and he says don’t say aks because that’s how they talk in Oakland but what’s wrong with Oakland that’s why I’ve never taken you there. I’m losing my culture says Mommy and I wonder why because I have lots of culture with two fireworks new years every winter and men in white turbans have sons with mini-turbans and Philippino phyllo and shrimp candies that taste like balloons and black hijab for special occasions and knappy hair the same brown as mine is fun to braid when we’re bored and we can’t wear red or blue and I don’t know how lucky I am.
I am white like I am the shortest in the class and supposed to wear glasses but those have been hidden in the cubbies for a year and a half another week won’t hurt them.
Amy sometimes wears her glasses but she is not short she’s average and she is Vietnamese at least her parents are which I guess makes her Asian but not Asian like Alan who just came from Hong Kong because China gets it next year. He speaks Cantonese and cusses English because John was assigned to him (John speaks Cantonese and English and his hair flops in his face) and taught Alan shit and damn and fart and bitch but forgot good morning and could you please pass the markers.
After chopsticks yet yi som say mm luk we present about our ancestors coming to America. I am just white. I am not white like Gareth who has a Mum and a Da and every summer goes to the mother country where they blow spit out of both corners of their mouths to say a double-el. I don’t really know my people were here in the sixteen- and seventeen-hundreds and before that who knows but I’m basically white and my family’s name is English so I guess I’m from England take a bow sit down. Brianna and Tamara don’t say Ellis Island or grandparents or last week on Air-India either, we already learned about their families in class (not their families specifically but how else could they be here, right?) about the chains and the ships so they’ve been Here a long time too and their families’ names are also English so I guess that makes them African American but not hyphenated like Peruvian-Mexican-American little Angela with her papi who tried to protect his four daughters but one still can’t come home or she'll get shot.
So then we’re all Americans I aks Daddy and he says don’t say aks because that’s how they talk in Oakland but what’s wrong with Oakland that’s why I’ve never taken you there. I’m losing my culture says Mommy and I wonder why because I have lots of culture with two fireworks new years every winter and men in white turbans have sons with mini-turbans and Philippino phyllo and shrimp candies that taste like balloons and black hijab for special occasions and knappy hair the same brown as mine is fun to braid when we’re bored and we can’t wear red or blue and I don’t know how lucky I am.
posted by Bethylene at 18:32
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