Being Accepted

I have never felt that I was different from everyone else. It just never occurred to me that just because I was African American, others considered me different. I am lucky to have friends who do not care where I come from. Sometimes as silly as it may sound, I forget that I am different because it has never been an issue. However, it has not always been like that. I can still remember my moment of shame this very day; from the little girl?s pink Power Ranger t-shirt, to what song the ice-cream truck was playing in the background.
I had just moved to Lyndhurst from the Bronx, NY. I never felt accepted there. The other children said that I was ?too white?. ?Little white girl? is what they used to call me. At the time I had no idea what they meant, Too white? How can someone be too white? We moved, not because of school, but because my mom wanted a better environment.
I thought moving to Lyndhurst would be different, a fresh start. It was, growing up in an inner city and then moving to a suburb can be a shock. There was show and tell and the kids handed in milk money every week. Everyone played a sport within the community. You had class mothers who brought in cupcakes for every holiday party. They even cut oranges and brought water to all of the soccer games. The majority of the girls played soccer than basketball. The atmosphere was completely different. I knew Lyndhurst would be different. There was an entire community here just waiting for me to be apart of.
I then suddenly realized something very different about my new town. Where were all the little girls who looked like me? There were plenty of little blonde and brown-haired girls with hazel eye and blue eyes. However, this was not an issue because my mom exposed me to all different types of people. The only thing that ran through my mind was I am going to have so many friends here. This will not be like New York.
Something was very different. Suddenly, the kids picked me last at every gym class. No one ate lunch with me. Then they would ask me ?why is your hair so thick, why are you so dark?. I asked these questions myself. Why was I so different? In New York, I was different. I could not figure out what I was doing wrong. I always loved a challenge; I knew it would be my goal to be accepted. I also figured ?I was the new girl? so it would take a while for people to get to know me. Not getting too melodramatic, I did have a few friends. Katrina Kim and Jamal Andrews, during elementary school we stuck together. I also had my mom so I was not always alone. This is probably why we are so close still to this day. She took me to the park every time she had a day off. It was just my mom and me. Being a single parent was hard then. She was not always around so I had to be self-sufficient at a very young age. We were our own team. One could not work with out the other.
On one of our trips to the park changed my outlook on the world I was living in. It was October, a typical fall day. My mom and I went to the playground around the corner from our apartment. I can still remember what I was wearing. My purple LL Bean jacket and all of my rollerblading gear on top of that. I had just learned how to rollerblade. My mom was and still is super overprotective. I was just rollerblading down the path when I saw two girls from my class on the swings. I rushed over to them so fast I just barley fell and skinned my knee.
?Hey guys,? I said so exasperated from rollerbladed
?Hi.? The little girl said flatly.
I had seen them so many other times in class, why were they being so cold. I tried so hard to let them see how cool I was. I kept following them hoping they would let me play with them, but they did not.
?Why don?t you go back to where black people come from.? The little girl yelled.
Her friend snickered and the two girls skipped away and just left me there in shock. I stood there wounded with nothing to say in return. My mind was racing so fast. My face became hot and I could feel the salty tears running down my face. ?What does that mean?? ?Why don?t they like me, what had I done wrong?? ?Where did black people come from?? Those thoughts burned through my brain. They rejected me so harshly, and I could not understand why. Then it hit me, it was because I was black. Acceptance was not and option. Those girls had no intention being friend with the ?black girl?.
I was hurt for a long time. I felt that everyone felt the way those two girls felt. I thought everyone heard what she had said to me. I hated myself I wished I could change everything about myself. I was mad at my mom too. I hated the fact that everyone else lived in a house and we lived in an apartment. Everyone knew why we lived in an apartment; it was because we were the black family. I hated that I had to walk to soccer practice, school or anywhere. When all of the other kids? moms could give them rides to where ever they wanted to go. My mom did not have time to be a team mom; she never cut oranges or brought water to the games. Where were the cupcakes she was supposed to make for the holiday parties? We were not even a real family, where was my dad? I shut my mom out for a long time. I was so selfish I could see past me own shame.
It was a long time before I was able to let go. I finally realized that I could only relax my hair so much (relaxers are used to chemically straighten ?kinky? or coarse hair; African American girls do this to make their hair permantly straight.) before my hair would grow out and have to do the process all over again. My mom was a strong woman; she had to put food on the table. If that meant she missed a few soccer games that were the sacrifices, we made. There was no point any more I could no longer hide who I was. By trying to assimilate to their culture, I had totally lost who I was. I realized that I did not have to change. They needed to realize that I was here and there were others just like me.
I also learned that not everyone is your friend. As much as I would have liked to see the world through rose colored glasses that was just not possible. I moved on because I had friends who accepted me for me. In addition, other people did not feel as they did. Once I stopped trying to have friends and be apart of the crowd, people did want to get to know me. I feel bad for those other girls because they missed out, just because I was different from them they did not want to be friends. We will see how long that works out for them because everyone is different, and they will be awful lonely only being friends with people who are like them. They will be the ones needing acceptance it was no longer I.