I'm beginning to questions things. Things are not right in the world of "Kristina." My life feels like a rerun of a marriage past. The logical conclusion is it's me, its got to be me why else would this being happending again? School ends in 4 weeks. I've decided to take the kids and go to my dad's. Things needs to be put in perspective, for both of us.
In other news...I've started writing again. I may never get published ever again because I never finish. I have no idea where this one came from or where it is going. Here's a bit of it.
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PROLOGUE
I was 15 years old when I say my first "real" grouping of black kids. Now, before you go getting your head into a tailspin, let me explain. I grew up in two extremely small towns in Ohio, Xenia and Cedarville. This was during the 1980's and 90's and neither of the towns were heavy on the black populace. Cedarville still isn't.
Growing up in a prominently white town had its effects and put things a very different perspective on race. You see, I didn't identify myself as black, nor did I perceive myself as white. My "black" friends weren't black in my eyes neither. To be specific, I honestly did not notice race at all. When I ponder on it, I'm more than sure that race never was an issue in my small town. Our community was far too much of a family to reduce our relationships down to race. I was never called a nigger, or referred to as "that black girl". No one ever went out of their way to signal me out or remind me that I was black. I didn't call my Caucasian friends "honkeys", and not once that I can recall did my black friends greet each other with that ever popular salutation, "What's up my nigga?"
In school we did not segregate off according to race; friends were friends, period. I cannot recall fights in which race was the underlying issue or racial epithets had set off the fray. For that matter...I cannot recall any fights. I know it may seem as thought I am describing some non-existent world, a place that cannot possibly be, an imaginative utopia of sorts. Be reminded, this is MY recollection. If racial tension was there, and realistically I'm sure there was, my young, naive self never caught whiff of it. So with that stated, I grew up, unattached to any particular sub-grouping. I was simply "Nicole."
Now, what I can recall with great clarity and certainty is the news. God bless the local media, it played such a vital role in the development of my pubescent mind. My mother watched the evening news nightly like most "old" people do. I begrudgingly watched also, waiting impatiently for it to end so that I could catch that evening's episode of "Entertainment Tonight." The media played my mind with vivid imagery of savage, brutal black beasts who stalked the streets of our nearby city, seeking innocent victims to maim, rape, mutilate, murder, and deal to. This image would not become known to me for many years because; I of course, was only half listening. My subconscious, however, was playing close attention and, like quick sand, was sucking up all the information being dealt out, pushing it deep down into the crevices of my memory banks, storing it up like a war arsenal for later consumption.
So I lived, blissfully ignorant of any real racial divisiveness; going through life unaware of any differences. That is until my freshmen year of high school, when a disharmonious home environment forced me to rethink my living arrangements. I had lived my entire life with my mother and my (black) step-father. To say that my step-father and I were on unfriendly terms would be a major understatement. The combustible mixture of our rivalry for my mother's affection, an unhappy marriage, sibling jealousy, and a precarious mother/daughter relationship had reached it boiling point and bubbled over.
Midway through my freshman year I moved in with my father...my very black father; something I had up until this time failed to notice. In the course of the move I switched towns and of course schools.
It was January of 1988, a cold, blustery morning in Dayton, Ohio. I had awakened early, eager, excited, and scared about my new school. I remember exactly what I wore; an ankle length, tan, denim skirt with a dual knit cream and olive sweater and brown leather ankle boots. It was a Christmas outfit and I looked just too cute. I sat quietly in the car during the short five mile drive, anticipation running amuck in my mind. When we pulled upfront to the school my jaw dropped. The building was huge! This mammoth of a building was exactly the same size of my old school, which housed the elementary, middle school, and the high school students. Intimidation immediately set in.
My step-mom smiled at me and got out of the car. I nervously followed, completely unprepared for what was about to happen next. As we approached the front doors the class bell rang signaling class changes. My step-mom opened the doors, we entered, and I froze. I immediately grabbed my step-moms arms and attempted to crawl up into her arm-pit. The visual assault on my neurotransmitters was overwhelming and was in danger of short circuiting. The hallway was congested with black faces, moving to and fro, up and down the hallway, yelling and hollering, pushing and shoving. To me it appeared to be a pack of natives released into the wild trying to prove dominance of each other.
Instantly it happened. News reports of days passed bombarded my mind. Death, rape, drugs, prostitutes, murder, and unspeakable crimes all committed by black mug shot faces, staring blankly at me through the television screen. I began scouring the motley crew, dividing the faces into subcategories. YOU! RAPIST! YOU! DRUG DEALER! YOU! MURDERER! In that moment you could not convince that I would not be raped, robbed, doped up and pimped out by day's end. I looked up desperately to my step-mom and managed to meekly ask, "Mommy? Where are the white people?" (For it was in that moment that race became extremely prevalent to me.)
Looking slightly bewildered herself, she replied, "Shit. I think I'm it."
My indoctrination to prejudice and racism started that day.
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Like I said, I have no idea where this going, I'm just writing for now.
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