You know why I like having my own blog?
I can publish whatever I want and people read it. I have to be politically correct on other platforms but on my blog, I get to be myself.
There are certain things that irritate the fuck out of me. I won’t list them because people will go out their way to drive me crazy but I want to talk about one thing that drives me nuts.
I hate it when people say I’m not black.
My mother is black:
This is my daddy:
I even took one of those Ancestry DNA tests:
Imagine my surprise when I came across this conversation on a blog:
I can’t believe this conversation is a thing.
I went to KIPP. Got called a nigger relentlessly in boarding school. I went to an HBCU. I hate the hot comb. And perms. My hair is 3C. I grew up in a black church. I can’t name a Taylor Swift song. I wish they would leave OJ alone. I love black men. I think black girls are magic. Trump is a racist. So are the Clintons. Auntie Michelle and Auntie Maxine are lit. I voted for Obama because he’s black. Black lives matter. I grew up in Harlem after I lived in the South Bronx. I can recite every word to Lift Every Voice and Sing, and play it on the bass guitar. I’ve also seen every episode of Martin, Fresh Prince, and the Cosby Show.
How much more black can I be?
Oh, that’s right. I don’t have a black name.
Yes, my name is Juanita Ramos.
My dad was born in the Dominican Republic. He’s clearly a black man.
I can trace my roots on my mom’s side to a plantation in Gumberry, NC. My dad’s side of the family were slaves too.
Instead of America, they ended up in the Dominican Republic.
Do they teach the trans-Atlantic slave trade anymore?
Being Dominican is my ethnicity but doesn’t erase the fact that I’m black.
In America, black people who have ties to slavery in this country don’t have an ethnicity because this country robbed them of one. In America, being black is a race as much as it is an ethnicity. This is why black people all over America have things in common that we can all relate to- despite where we grew up. It’s the music we listen to. The way we dance. The food we eat. The way we were disciplined. The shows we watch. Our fear of the police.
It’s also why white people can claim blackness and assimilate into our culture but never our race, unless you’re Rachel Dolezal.
But seriously, I own my blackness and I love every part of it.
Colorism is real and I’m ranting because the shit is whack. I’ve been black my whole life and wonder why people who look like me are having this conversation.