~I have just discovered how to let go and forget that sheet music even exists. To sit at the piano without any music in front of you is absolutely dreadful. To run your fingers over the black and white keys...so familiar, so...
To forget about reading music and just let your soul soar, next to love and sharing your happiness, it’s the best feeling in the world!!
This, ladies and gentlemen, is an accomplishment.
Ever wished that you were black? Ever wished that you were white? Well I have. And throughout my time (back) in Africa, I hated the “whiteness” of me.
For several of you, this is the long-awaited update on my trip back to Africa. As a matter of fact, this won’t just be an update on Africa, but rather, my journey these past couple of months. I’m going to break this up into several entries. Everything at once is too much. So without further ado, here’s the first section. The intro if you will.
Reversal Culture Shock. It’s an odd thing.
The first week back was intense. I wasn’t sure what to feel or expect (to feel). As some of you know, I didn’t want to go back, not yet. Being a “white Christian girl” in an Islamic influenced area was not easy, to say the least.
I was completely distressed the first couple of days. I noticed that there were more “whites” there than when we left. It was unsettling to watch these “white” people casually walking around; obviously more comfortable to be there than I was. I didn’t like it one bit. I grew up there. “I” was the one who should’ve felt at “home.” Who the heck did these people think they were? Raggae-gangsta lookin’ wannabe’s. Do they have any idea how slutty they’re dressing? Or how ridiculous they look? Ahem.
Ghana has changed. I’ve changed. I was thrown back into community. Something that I think a lot of Americans have either forgotten or would rather not do. Be a community. We get so caught up in our self-satisfactory ways. In Ghana, when someone visits you, you don’t shoo them out whenever you *feel* like it. You let them stay for however long they want...
So what started out as pages and pages, didn’t even fill up a whole page. They’re several incidents that happened while I was there that deserve to be given their own space. I tried to sum it all up in one. Well, that didn’t work.
My emotions about this change as time goes on. That’s why it’s taken me so long just to write this much. This is what I’m clear on. There’s a lot more on the way. It’s going to take me a while longer though. Apart from the “processing,” I have limited access to the internet.
More to come on race, marriage proposals and relationships, among other things. Like trying to explain what the KKK is/was to a friend (it didn’t go so well). I’m also thinking of coming up with a comic strip.
I feel like saying something. So I’m going to.
I’m a girl on my way to womanhood. I cannot expect to get/have a man until I am a woman. They’re so many times when I wish I could hurry up the process. I realize that I can’t and I should enjoy being 17. I finally feel like I’m living now.
However, I don’t want to be too comfortable at any place. I want to truly live...and be contagious! ;-)
They’re times when I get sick of boys but I have to stop and remember that they’re growing too.
I have a few guy friends who want to date a “real” woman but they’re still boys themselves.
I’m a high school drop out who is trying to get over my fear of, well, **U. I get a slightly sick feeling when I’m on campus. If I see people I know then I feel a ton better but I still get a sick feeling. After a while with friends I think “big deal.” The next visit, I have to go through the entire process again.
I will continue to be proud of my TCK-ness even though they’re some people who don’t like it. I cannot deny what has made me me. I do not have “roots” in the normal sense of the word. I will be proud of being a TCK because that is all I have.
I am proud to be a TCK but I try not to let it blind me. I do not have a problem with people being proud in something. What I do have a problem with, are people who let that pride blind them and keep them in ignorance.
I hate my own ignorance.
In the future, I hope with the help of others to create more community. Something that I think quite a few people in America have either forgotten or just don’t want to do.
I am mixed. I’m neither American nor African. Not white or black...even though I feel like I should be one of the two and not brown.
I feel perfectly comfortable and perfectly uncomfortable in my own skin.
I do not listen (for the most part) to what tv, movies, music, propaganda tells me how I should or shouldn’t look.
I’m sick of the fact that some of my friends feel so self-conscious because of celebrities and all that shit.
Back in the day when I was still cutting myself, I made sure that I left scars. I didn’t want to forget where I once was. Obviously, hoping that I would one day get better, which I did. I didn’t want to become too proud. Every day I see those scars and remember how far I’ve come. It’s easy to forget that when you don’t hear it from other people.
I really didn’t start reading books until a year and a half ago. I feel like it’s my duty to go on to college and try to make something of myself. They are so many people out there, especially young girls, who will *never* have this opportunity.
Out of pure boredom, I picked up a book from my dad’s office a year and a half ago. I don’t remember the name of it now. It was a memoir of an ex-slave from Sudan. He knew very little to no English at all. When he finally got to America, he picked up the dictionary and looked up every word that he didn’t know. And that’s exactly what I started doing.
My vocab is still terrible. I understand most things but putting those same words into use just isn’t happening. Even when I moved here four and a half years ago, I noticed I was way behind my peers in vocab. In Africa I used very simple or broken English. So, that’s all I knew.
I have the ability to write well. I just don’t practice it. I do enjoy writing but if there’s a piano in the room, there’s no way you’re going to get me to sit down for several hours just to write.
I want to end up with a gentleman someday who still loves me with all my quirks. I will not change for anybody. I will continue to strive to better myself. I will not change for someone else.
I will be brutally honest with you if I have to. I rarely like putting someone in pain but I will do it if it needs to be done.
I am not ashamed to be a strong young (on my way) woman.
I do want a man who can take care of himself. I do not want to babysit another guy. I’m not doing that again. I will be supportive and encouraging. I will help lift him onto his feet when he falls. He does need to be considerate of others, even if they’re of no use to him. Those are just a few things I want in a man.
I find it hilarious what the grammar check thingy says about the word shit. It says “avoid this offensive term. Consider revising.”
