What I'm Thankful For

This past September, I went on a boat ride with my church members. It was quite a relaxing outing. One of those ahhhhh moments. Having been burned out from temping for practically a year, it was what I needed to get my mind off the fact that I was still without a full-time job and having to temp in a position with a supervisor who acted like the devil. I hadn’t expected to get much out of the boat ride. After all, it wasn’t the Odyssey - but it was quite exhilarating. Even when the tide got testy, splashing sprays of water in my eyes and nose, I enjoyed it. I even took my Shirley Temple ringlets out of my hair clip and enjoyed the wind in my hair, feeling like Rose in Titanic.

There was nothing fancy about the ride, we passed the Lincoln and Jefferson memorials and the Washington monument - all monuments I’ve seen a thousand times riding on the subway. But it was a refreshing reminder of why it’s good to get out and do new things. Why we shouldn’t get comfortable in our “routine.” Because in this era of terrorists attacks, 4-minute dating and reality TV, we have to remember to stop and smell the roses – or in this case, the river water.

Now that it's winter, I really miss being able to take a nice boat ride or stroll through the park. And although I'm enjoying the holidays with the decorated homes and shop windows that come along with it, I definitely look forward to the spring, when everything looks alive and beautiful. I'm not one to complain about the weather much - accept when waiting for a bus or subway train to arrive, but I love the energy that spring brings. I am however making an effort to be more thankful for the winter because without it there wouldn't be icicles or snow angels, or the holidays that bring people together - which I cherish not because of the gifts but because I am blessed to have my family members alive and well with me.

So instead of griping about the weather and traffic delays and not having enough money for holiday gifts, I'm choosing to focus on the fact that God has granted me another day, week and year on earth, because things could always be worse, as those in Iraq and victims of natural disasters unfortunately know all to well. I'm going to thank God for every day that I am still here, alive and safe, and that my mother, father, sisters, brother and nieces and nephews, cousins, and treasured friends are all here for me to kiss and hug through the holidays even though bad weather and political madness may come with it.

Ministers and other Christians will say to thank God even for the hard times in life, and I am working to adopt that philosophy because the way I see it is I can be here dealing with crazy people, bad weather and difficult situations, and keep on keepin' on, or I could be like others I’ve heard about in the news, dead and gone. It’s a bit morbid way of thinking maybe, but I don’t see it that way. I see it as taking the focus off the hardships, and staying focused on the blessings that I sometimes overlook but that when I really stop and think, am so fortunate and thankful to be given.

Myths of Being Bi-racial

I once had a white co-worker say to me, “April, you’re not black, you’re whiter than me” stretching his arms to reveal his suntanned skin. I was insulted. I’m also insulted when a black man or woman tells me “If you're half black, you're all black.” Both are ignorant mentalities. As if I’m supposed to deny any part of my heritage simply because I look a certain way or because of some ignorant 1800’s race rule. I refuse to give into any of these ways of thinking because I am proud to be who I am. God made me this way, and it is a blessing – even with the ignorance I encounter. While I’ve had many negative experiences because of my insistence to claim both sides of my race, I am happy to be who I am because I was raised by wonderful parents. Unlike many biracial children, my parents are still together - 41 years and counting. Their union, along with their refusal to try to make me into anything I didn’t want to be has made my bi-racial experience a mostly healthy and loving one. While society has dished out some harsh realities regarding racism, my parents made it possible for me to survive it all.

As a child in elementary school, very often, what I heard when I met someone new was "Oh you’re April, that pretty mixed girl.” In high school, it was “Oh, you’re the one with the pretty hair I heard about.” This was generally from those in the black community. White people didn't seem to care about me. I now realize that was more of a class issue than a race one, although I did from time to time have a white person in high school say "oh, you’re that girl who hangs around all the black people." I'd then inform them that I hung around “black people” because I was black myself. In college, I discovered what some today call "hateration." Being so naive and sheltered as a child and teenager, going into my 20's I didn't understand why "hating" existed. But what I did understand was that not everyone was so positive about my bi-racial status. In the black community, women are very competitive with one another. This is unfortunate, because it’s the women that hold the black community together. If anything, we need to unite, not fight. If I had a dollar for all the hateful stares I've received, I'd be a billionaire.

The hateful stares usual occur when I’m on the arm of a black man. However, black men themselves at times have hated on me too. In my clubbing days, I was once at a black nightclub and a man sitting next to me - out of the blue, without saying as much of a hello said “What are you doing here? You light, bright, and damn near white.” The insults use to be really hurtful, and even now it gets frustrating constantly having to defend myself. But I realize it is society that makes some believe that lighter skin is better, in turn making them hate their own darker skin. More frustrating is the belief that my life is somehow easier because I’m light-skinned or “high-yellow,” because nothing could be farther from the truth.

Fortunately, all my experiences have not been all bad. I have met many beautiful black sisters and brothers who are completely accepting of my white skin, and treat me with love, and respect me as a fellow sister. And black men for the most part, love and accept me, but usually are taken aback when they discover my pride in being black. Some appreciate it, some don’t. Either way, I’m going to keep on being who I am because I refuse to give into any kind of hatred from whites or blacks. Because it is my mission in life to educate - not to hate.