Does My Colour Scare You?

*That's an actual song title. Listen to it. It's a very powerful song.*

Lately I've noticed that when I roam the halls of my dorm, I get sidelong glances. When I reach the closest mirror, however, I don't see anything out of the ordinary. I don't have any stray hairs, no crumbs on my mouth, no missing clothing. It started to get slightly unnerving, especially when it happened when I passed a few people repeatedly. And then I reached the only conclusion that made sense: It's because I'm black.

I'm one of those people who don't really notice skin color unless someone makes a big deal about it. My parents raised me to, in the words of Martin Luther King, Jr., not judge people "by the color of their skin, but by the content of their character." I think this unsettles many people, my parents included. Certain genetic qualities are passed on by race, yes, but not personalities. That is learned and developed as the child grows. As I've said often, the only things that are "black" about me are my hair and my, let's face it, ass. While I admit that I do like hip-hop, R&B, and rap occasionally, and I do love fried chicken, watermelon, and cornbread, I think that these are mainly universal traits.

I don't wear Baby Phat, South Pole, FUBU, or Apple Bottoms. I can't krump or dance hip-hop to save my life. I use proper grammar, and have since I first learned it. My friends are all different colors and come from multiple walks of life. Just because I don't buy into the stereotypes of my race doesn't mean I think I'm better than my race, as I know some may believe about me. Quite the contrary is true. I'm proud of my heritage. I want the rest of the world to be as well.

I want to show the world that to be an African-American specifically doesn't mean you're from the ghetto, as the media portrays. We're not all poor and go to inner-city schools. We're not all involved in gangs. We don't all go to historically black colleges. We don't only associate with those from the same background as us. I will admit, though, that it is easier to do so.

My immediate family is probably the biggest family of "oreos" that you will find. When I visit a certain side of my family, I can see how different we are. My brother assimilates to them the least. He doesn't listen to hip-hop, isn't interested in sports, and basically has nothing in common with them. We just weren't raised the same way. Not to say that they were raised in a bad way.

I know I came from a fairly liberal suburb, about forty minutes south of Chicago. But the amount of people I've encountered that are surprised that a black person is in the Honors College, let alone has a 3.6 GPA, astounds me. There have been plenty of people this year, who know both my (white) roommate and me, who are genuinely shocked that I'm in the Honors College. They assumed that she was the one who let us live in the Honors dorm, not me. They've saved face by saying they thought she was in it as well. But these comments come from people who have never sat down with us and had a fairly intelligent conversation, so they have no basis to judge which one of us is in the Honors College.

I joke about my "oreo" status, but I know my mother doesn't like this. She thinks I should be more like the stereotype. I know people around campus wish I was. Sometimes, even I wish I was, just a little. Sometimes I feel like just knowing the history of my race isn't enough. I'm out to prove that we're not the stereotype, but sometimes I wish I was. At least, I wish I could dance hip-hop.