Black Hair Red Skin

The other day, I took my mother to see a movie. The movie was about a young Black guy that struggled within the inner city and was adopted by a white family and therefore was given opportunities. The movie was touching and heartfelt. And makes for irony...

During the movie, I was rude and highlighted my phone to see what text I had received. I admit I was being rude. But, the guy next to me then tells me that the phone is glaring in his eyes and to turn it off. I understand he didn’t like my phone but it was the way he said it that made me more alert. I glared at him thru the dark and turned my phone over in my lap. He then tells me again to turn my phone OFF. I was like, what is this guy’s deal? And I suddenly wished that I did not move my jacket and purse for him to have the seat next to me. I then told him, “Say please, asshole.”

Later in the movie, he started talking to the person sitting next to him. I then said, “Can you please, stop talking? Thank you.” He then started telling me, “You have no manners. WHERE are you FROM?” And, that is when I knew. He was a racist bastard and that is why I was so offended by him. Just because I have long black hair and turquoise on; he chose to have an opinion of me from the start.
Right when he first told me to turn my phone off, I knew. I am not sure at what point in my life, I got the intuition of the how to tell when someone hates you but I have it. I can feel it when someone simply does not like me because of the red of my skin. I hated him as soon as he spoke.

When he asked where I am from. I didn’t reply. I was silent.

I stayed up most of that night. Angered in the dark. And it was not because of the racist bastard but because I didn’t represent my people the right way. I hate how one of my rude acts translates into my whole nation. It vibrates. The things I do everyday, all day are labeled with the black of my hair and red skin.

I finally slept after I stood tall and said my reply to a man that was no longer there.

“I am from the place where the earth gave birth to me. I am from where the trees are so tall and protect my heart. I am from where the river water runs to supply my heart. I am from where the dirt made my skin. I am from the land where wind gives you life. I am from the same place my ancestors are from. Where are You from?”

And his answer would obviously be, “I don’t know.” I then knew I was blessed. I may be hated and judged upon because of my red skin and black hair but I know where I am from.