About The Funk...

Observational Spittle from the mind of a man of color in his 40s, without the color added (most times). Come in, laugh, and you may learn something...

90 Things That Irritate The Sh** Out Of Me Trailer

Tuesday, August 31, 2010

I wonder if God knows we're screwing this up


There are times that my mind sort of goes on a long term vacation...especially when it comes to writing. With all of life's distractions, there simply isn't much to say...deep, funny, or otherwise.

Then it sort of wakes up...sort of like when my mom used to put that cold wash cloth to get me up in the morning (I would like to return the favor one day, but even tho she is vertically challenged and 63 years old, she is still quick and would kick my flattened ass). It could come to me while dropping my "kids off in the pool" (yeah, nasty, but well, this is me), making dinner out of a box, or watching how flies mate (the Midwest can be slow moving at times).

In this particular instance, I was sitting down seeing if my youngest would actually tick me off and pee in the tub while giving him a bath (it's a twisted game with the youth; he stands up, looks at his boy parts, and then sees if I'll cover him up with the wash cloth b4 he tints his bathwater), and I remembered a conversation from the night before with the oldest concerning the fact that his mother is white, and I am a lovely shade of deep chocolate (always sweeter, duh!). Any who, when I advised the boy that he was part-black, he crumbled in a ball and started crying. This perturbed me slightly, as that, well, the child acted like his feelings was hurt.

After he cried for a few moments, I attempted to explain to him that this wasn't a big deal, but whatever "damage" I inflicted from informing the boy of his cultural mixture was done. He then proclaimed "I don't want to be black!" which sort of ended our conversation. For once, I, master of the quip, was rendered silent.

A couple of weeks later, the boy mentioned to me about 3 young children of African descent, who, based on his description, looked like rejects from "Another Bad Creation" (For those who do not remember these R&B/Hip Hop hybrid "pioneers", see here: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fbrScSrELoE). Any who x 2, he mentioned that these 3 kids were the only kids that caused trouble on the bus he rides every day. Now, normally, I would just shrug this off and advise him to not associate with these kids if he could...then I flashed back to the whole "black thing" from a few weeks prior. Trying once again to bring the subject up, I futility attempted to break down that just because a few kids are bad apples, doesn't mean all kids like this are the same. When he gave me the "like this" look again, I had to once again bring race into the equation. Of course, instead of absorbing my years of wisdom on the subject (i.e., these where the type of stereotypical kids who kicked my ass, took my coat, stole my money, mugged me 3 times, made me feel like a wuss, always got the girl...yeah, I'm taking about you, Pamela Grant, Juliet...blah blah blah...and no, I don't need therapy, damn it!) he then gazed off at some box of some sort I had sitting on my armoire.

Curses, foiled the *&^% again.

The racial subject hasn't been broached since, but it got me to thinking (well, it did 2 weeks ago when I started writing this; as I said, my mind falls asleep sometimes...nah, I just stop giving a shit) about how I approach the entire conversation of race, or differences in cultures in general. A good friend of mine (actually, a couple of them; yes, yes, people actually put up with my bullshit for longer than 5 minutes) told me that I bring the subject of race up too much in my humor and observations. Now, the first time, it sort of hurt my feelings...the 2nd time, it made me think a tad bit, and I began to wonder if they had excellent points (beyond the fingers that were pointing at me, saying "U're Greg, not Greg the black dude with the massive penis." On 2nd thought, I would of been flattered if the one female who shared her opinion was thinking that, but let's get off the ego trip).

Then I began to think about y is it a bad thing to consider the human race's cultural differences; or better yet, y not make fun of the ignorant thoughts people have for one another, just because one person may prefer spaghetti cuz their culture taught them this, or another may enjoy a good piece of fried chicken cuz "mama" made it in that big as cast iron frying pan that weighed like a fat woman's left breast.

OK, that metaphor even disturbed me a tad.

Any who III, after looking at this back and forth and sideways, I started staring at my kids more than usual (and not in the "oh hell no, u didn't say that 2 me, u little zebra bastard!" way I normally do).

Oops, noticed differences again.

I guess here's my conclusion on all this. My mom once told me that I better not marry a white woman. Well, after I couldn't find a black woman that found me interesting enough to talk to, much less spend the rest of their lives with me, I fell in love and got married to a pretty cool female, and had 2 beautiful, albeit mind-numbingly annoying kids. I look at the beauty of 2 cultures, and let's face it, while they got that quote, unquote "good hair" (hey, I'm the first to admit...Caucasians got the good deal from God on that one...'cept when they don't wash it...then it sort of resembles the janitor's mop from high school u didn't want to be alone in the hallway with), they have a better chance of passing for Latinos than Caucasians.

But what's the big deal, right? I tease my wife for her occasional "whiteness" (old school 50's groups and her love of "The Sounds of Music"), she hates the fact that I still listen to Hip-Hop at 41 ("blackness") my oldest listens to movie scores like I do (hopefully not "gayness", not that I'd cut him off, but he's too fine and there r 2 many women on this planet to waste that gift), and we are all linked together by our love and our different cultures. As for my sense of humor and mentioning the fact that I'm black all the time...well, perhaps I need to back off on that.

But I am not going to run away from it. I am a male of African descent. Old white women still get nervous around me at times, even tho I dress more like my dad these days than T.I. (also reference this for those who think T.I. is a sexually transmitted disease - "Oh Shit, I got the T.I.; knew I should of wrapped it!" http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/T.I.) People's ignorance will live on until someone says "Hey, let's judge this guy or gal based on their character, not because of what the media or grandma told me to think!"

If I unintentionally contributed to this decline, I apologize.

But I also think by saying "hey, I laugh at myself for ALL that I am, including my quirks or what people assume a person of color should act like", perhaps I am taking a little brick out of the wall of stupidity.

Not a bad trade-off, in my opinion.

As for my boy, hopefully his nervousness around the young men practicing for the next rap video (or rap sheet) doesn't slander his thoughts as he continues to grow.

Dear God, we royally fouled this crap up, didn't we?

OK, off to bed next to my white....oh wait, my wife.


1 comment:

Nina said...

I always enjoy your blogs. Love the title too. i am gonna start up again too. That writer's thing and "unthing" sure is catching isn't it?

Say hi to the fam!