So Black

Maybe it was the milk?..

That's what I used to wonder about as a child, was it milk that spilled on me? Is that why I look like this? Is -that- why Dad jokingly called me "The milkman's baby?" That must've been it, the milk turned my skin white, and made my hair all smooth.

It took me forever to get that joke. Eventually I got it though. That was my fathers way of comedically explaining how this little white looking child came to be calling him "Daddy".

I recall aiting my turn to get my hair done; after my sister and cousin. She would have us all sitting up at the table, reciting over and over, "I'm Black and I'm Proud, Say it Loud!" How badly I wanted pontytails like the other girls in my family were getting. Big braids and the bobbles at the bottom. But, my thin ponytials were few, and braids would fall out into nothing but loose waves and silky strands. Those cute little bobbles would just fall right out. Auntie Kathy would brush my straight locks with that same brush that shes had forever, the one with the firm bristles. It always had a hint of cocobutter smell to it. She'd get to stroking quickly and then laughing, shouting out to my Grandmother across the room, "Well I think it might have a -little- wave to it!"

My Grandmother was one of many tennants that my parents occupied in their rental properties. 3 Duplexes in North Minneapolis, Minnesota, where I was born and raised. North Minneapolis became a predominately Black neighborhood due to redlining and racial segregation. My Black father, and White mother; became important neighborhood fixture after buying all thos duplexes on the same city Block; 21st Ave & N. 6th St.

People always thought we had money, and perhaps I will never be sure how well off truly were. We had enough to travel, but not often. In my parents 19 years of marriage, they had established land property as well, with acreage in Northern Minnesota, as well as about 20 acres in a small country in Central America called Belize. But, for the most part, the money the gained went right back into their property. Meeting standards for low income housing. Also, renting out to mostly friends and family meant that my parents would have to accepts discounts and late payments with grace. But, it also meant, that on that one city block was an entire family of people!

As I got older, and my parents divorced, and their properties split between them, and eventually lost. I would soon realize how particularily rare it is to live in a nieghborhood with that much sense of community. Sure, we had high crime rates. But, you had to live here to know how we carried each other even through out devestating circumstances. I would also learn, that some of those circumstances are by design. I would educate myself on how society has put certain elements into place that force people with Black and Brown skin to endure these harsh realities. And I would see how the same police, who we couldn't depend on for protection, would target us instead.

In 2020, after the murder of George Floyd occured in South Minneapolis. Riots began to incite, and racial tension heightened. Many witnesses would report a White male, holding an umbrella, wearing expensive protective gear; as one of the first people seen breaking out windows. Soon a wave of destruction would wash over Minneapolis, especially tageting the communities that were rich in ethnic diversity; Communities like North Minneapolis were hit the worst.

No words could explain the sense of urgency I had, when it came to cleaning up and protecting my neighborhood of origin. One of the first people on site for clean-up efforts after business were boarded up, if they were luck enough to still be standing. I could feel the fear and confusion in the air. As I got my bright pink gloves on, and got to work... I could feel the stares. It was then when I remembered the milk. That as much as I was there to help uplift my community, I resembled the same people who were targeting them. I looked just like that White women who call the police for no reason at all, and then the police show up, and who knows...

So know, when it comes to standing with my community, I do so remebering that I might trigger a sense of fear or threat. I work even harder to be a beacon of light.