hide

Read Next

Random Gifts

I woke up and stumbled to the front door to check for packages. I wasn't really expecting one, but you can never be too sure. To my surprise there was a small brown box waiting on the doorstep for me. What had I ordered? I couldn't remember. I walked back inside and tore the package open.

Inside was a book and a board game. Not just any book and board game, though - they were abominations thrust in in front of my virgin eyes. The game was called A Hot Affair and the book was Penthouse: Naughty by Nature: Female Readers' Sexy Letters to Penthouse. Confused, I check the shipping address. Sure enough they weren't meant for me.

They were my neighbor's.

Traveling While Black

On Imported Blog

I grew up in the Southern region of the United States. Contrary to popular perception, race was not a pervasive part of my Southern childhood. In fact, I never really thought much about it until I left for college. I attended Louisiana State University, a predominantly white institution in Baton Rouge, where I was often the only black face in the classroom. It never bothered me, in fact, I liked it. I’ve always hated being one of many or following the crowd, and being the sole representative for black people gave me a unique voice and perspective no one could deny, and that they certainly found interesting. But the “sole black face” phenomenon became exponentially obvious when I began traveling overseas to places where people had never even seen a black person in real life.

Besides the fact that I'm black with natural hair (often worn in braids, twists, or a big "Foxy Brown" 'fro), I'm also 6'2", taller than the average woman in almost any country, including my own. This combination of physical features puts me squarely in the sights of most locals, particularly in Asia. I've had people point and stare, then elbow their family or friends sharply so they could point and stare, too. I've had people follow me into stores, dogging my every step to get a closer look, all but tripping and falling over themselves when I mischievously and quickly turned around as if to physically say "Gotcha!" I've had people come up and talk to me, openly curious and anxious to practice their limited English with a native American, but shocked and pleased when I was at least able to say "Hello" or "Thank You" or "Good-Bye" to them in their own language.

I've had people directly ask to take my photo, and caught many a person indirectly taking it when they thought I wasn't looking or paying attention. Once engaged with me, I've had people extend an arm and compare their skin color to my skin color, or extend a leg to compare my longer, thicker, "meatier" legs to their often shorter, skinnier ones. I've had people point at my hair and reach out to touch a wisp of it, wildly curious about its design and texture. I've had young teen-age girls titter and giggle with nervous excitement as they asked me questions about my hair, and my background, and my life, then we all giggled together as they massacred my American name, and I annihilated their Chinese ones. I've had people hug me, kiss me, try to interest me in a clandestine affair, and even try to set me up on a date with their son. And once I've engaged with one person, the flood gates literally open as others see I'm receptive to a photo opportunity or in-depth conversation.

And through all the engagements and interactions around the world, rarely have I ever been bothered or annoyed by any of it. Logically speaking, if the locals have never seen a black person in real life before, then obviously they will be quite curious...and looking for ways to address their curiosities -- a perfect scenario for a friendly and sociable person such as myself, who can strike up a conversation with anyone and who makes friends everywhere. The part I love most about these connections? Helping the locals see that while we may have different skin colors, hair textures, and other physical differences, deep down inside (where it counts), we're more alike than we are different.

Because you see, to me, racism, prejudices, and stereotypes have a strong root in perception, in beliefs that are largely perpetuated by the media, but typically have no basis in fact. And these beliefs will maintain their stronghold...until presented with physical evidence to the contrary. For example, a local may believe the stereotype that all black people are violent or just interested in what they can get or take...until faced with a tall, friendly, smiling black woman with wild hair who is interested in nothing more than making a connection, and then that stereotype must be reassessed in light of this new knowledge.

Rendering New Theme...