Every Day I'm Reminded I'm Different
Words by Lisa Mason
I thought I’d start this post off a little bit differently, using a brainteaser to help get us all in the right head space. What some of you may not know is that I spend time brainstorming before I put pen to paper. When writing this blog post, I used an exercise that I thought may be useful to you too. I sat down and asked myself some challenging questions. The following are some that resonated with me the most:
When you hear the word “Black” or “African American,” what three words come to your mind first?
For me, it’s … strength, excellence, and resilience.
Next up, when you hear the word, “racism,” what do you think of?
I think of oppression, ignorance, and hatred.
Can you describe what your experience is like being a woman of color in America today… in three words?
To be honest, I found myself struggling to answer that in just three words, but since I asked, I guess I would say my experience so far has been: complex, confusing, and enlightening.
How about men of color in America today, how do you feel they’re often viewed?
Unfortunately, I would say they’re often viewed as guilty, violent, and deviant.
In three words, how do you feel the world views you as a woman of color?
I would say… inferior, undesirable, unwelcome.
How do you wish the world saw you?
I wish they saw me as equal, valuable, worthy.
Last one: What is one question you wish more people would ask you?
Easy, I wish people would ask me, "What's your story?"
You see, I wish people would just ask me what my story is because then maybe they could understand and listen to the challenges that myself and people who look like me deal with daily. I mean, that’s the whole reason we have history books, right? So that we have a shot at growing and learning from our mistakes and not repeating the past?
When I look back and reflect, I recognize I grew up feeling confused and upset many days because I was unable to understand why the rules seemed different for me… and truthfully, it’s been a common thread throughout my 25 years here on this Earth.
Whenever I wake up, I’m reminded that I’m different, everyday. It can be as simple as going to a place of business or even going to school. Typically, it turns out that I am either the only or one of few black people there. Oh, how you have to get used to the stares. It’s amazing that people often don’t even recognize that they’re doing it. Or how bold they can be. In fact, I’ve had people come up to me and pull on my hair, just to see if it were real. They ask me questions, like if it’s possible for me to get tan in the sun. Or, if I have a father.
The trend continues on…
In elementary school, there were children who called me the “n-word,” and laughed about it, telling me they didn’t know exactly what it meant but that they overheard it being used by their parents and knew it was used for people like me.
You can imagine the tears and anger in my mother’s eyes whenever her six-year-old daughter comes home upset, crying and confused, realizing the time had already come at such a young age to explain the injustices that would lie ahead for me.
In junior high, I had alleged “friends” call me an “Oreo.” Why you ask? It's because they told me I acted too white to be black. That I was like a white girl trapped in a black girl’s body. And they pointed and they laughed and when they saw I wasn’t amused - they then had the nerve to ask me how I felt about that, unable to see the corrupt nature in their own statements.
This is an example of what you call unconscious bias - which is defined as believing social stereotypes held about certain groups of people outside of one’s own conscious awareness, or race. Unconscious biases are learned stereotypes that are automatic, unintentional, deeply ingrained, universal, and able to influence behavior.
Likewise, in high school, I had a teacher who constantly found ways to put me down or single me out. I was always called on at random times, I always seemed to have to work harder for my grades or defend myself more in class. In fact, when this teacher found out I was set to graduate in the top five of my class, she made sure to give me a failing grade on my final, just to try to hinder all of my hard work - so much so, that the principal even had to get involved.
When prom came, and she learned my date was a boy who was white that came from an affluent family she still met me with unrest. She even made remarks right before our grand march, saying, “Look what cat dragged in, how did you two end up as each other’s dates?”
Moving forward…
In college, I’ve had professors refer to me as “that black girl,” because they didn’t remember my name. Or even when a boy finally took an interest in me, because I was single for my entire life - it turned out, though he liked me, he simply could not be with me. Feeling suspicious as to why he couldn't commit to me, it came out that his family did not approve of his son being with someone like me. You can only imagine the pain and trust issues that caused me for years.
In the workplace, I always worry about making sure my hair is straight and deemed as acceptable. When I’ve had interviews, I’ve been met with surprise when they reviewed my resume and saw my credentials as if I couldn’t have possibly achieved my accomplishments on my own. Likewise, I’ve been met with surprise when they found out my name is, “Lisa,” as if it’s not an acceptable name for a black woman.
When I got pulled over because I accidentally hit my headlights and they turned off for a brief second - I was held there for an hour and questioned about things such as my place of work, the position I held there, if I had explosives in my car and more. When it started raining, by the grace of God, the officer let me go and told me, “You better feel lucky, I hate getting wet.”
And the list continues on…
When I hear news of individuals such as George Floyd, it reminds me of all the injustices I have faced and will continue to face. It reminds me of the conversations I will have to have with my children someday. Of the sadness it brings me when I hope, if they’re mixed, that they’re more white-passing than not, just to ensure their safety. It reminds me of the constant fear I have that one of my family members may not come home. That they may become the next headline.
Being in a relationship now with a white man, whom I’m thankful supports me and doesn’t see my race as less than, it upsets me that we will have worries such as what neighborhood we can live in, what places we can hang out, or what schools our kids can go to, etc., because you just don’t know who doesn’t like you. It kills me that the color of my skin is the defining factor in several individuals' eyes.
So, I encourage all to speak out and share their story. I thank all who have already done so and will continue to do so. Please know this message is not to share any ill will or malice. I do not feel that all cops are bad or all white people are bad or even that injustices don’t exist for other races across the board. I just want to shine a light on myself so that I can shine a light on others. The fight has not yet been won.
Let’s start talking.
About the Author:
Lisa Mason is a Marketing Coordinator by day and a Blogger by night. With her passion and love for coffee shops and writing, she hopes to portray words that inspire and bring about change.