We Always Gotta Be The Ones...

If I died and were able to come back as anyone or anything I could, I’d still choose to come back as myself. My family and friends are way too unique for me to give up, even in the slightest form. Trust me, I’ve tried to imagine being someone else and I can’t keep the image in my mind. I always go back to my own life. Even when I try to sustain the fantasy for long, I begin to imagine being someone else with all my same family and friends. And in that case, I may as well just be me. 

Other than the fact that I just can’t imagine being anyone else, I’d still rather be me because I am a Black woman. And being Black has its privileges. Despite the fact we die sooner than our Anglo counterparts, as a race we are paid less for equal work, most corporations treat us as though we are a monolithic group with no internal diversity of opinions and desires, we are dealt with in terms of trite stereotypes, and yep, we are seen as the main perpetrators of crime at all times (that is unless the crime took any degree of intelligence); we are pretty awesome. We developed the blood bank, designed Washington, D.C., made improvements to the ironing board, invented the Electric Slide AND the Cha Cha Slide (the white man won’t steal those like he did Rock-N-Roll), invented the rotary blade lawn mower, disposable syringes, the hot comb, the traffic light and the list could go on. We are a people who are always making something out of nothing, literally and figuratively.

 I love us and hate us. The main reason being is that no matter what happens or where we are: There is always one of us to get some ish popping. Don’t believe me? Tell me I’m lying on anyone of the following:  

• At a funeral there’s always one who will start throwing themselves on the casket and acting like the funeral is all about them.
• In each family, no matter the level of affluence, there is always one drunk uncle. This uncle is not to be confused with the uncle that hugs and kisses for far longer than what is comfortable or makes a comment about “You’ve shoul grown up gurl.” But these two could sometimes be one in the same. 
• There is always one aunt who can’t cook, but she ALWAYS wants to make the potato salad or something that Black folk won’t tolerate you playing around with. Her potato salad either way too yellow or way too white. And she mad when people tell her to just bring the beverages. And don’t let another aunt get complimented on her cooking then aunt with the nasty potato salad all upset talking about “Y’all don’t never appreciate nothing I do in this family. And I don’t know why y’all fawning and fanning over so and so (insert an aunt’s name here) because you know she keep a nasty house (which is a total lie but she just wanna say something insulting and there’s nothing more insulting to a Black person than being told they keep a nasty house).
• There is always one cousin who is on “that stuff” and asking to “borrow” things all the time. Or he randomly needs to look through the house for someone who isn’t missing.
• There is always one cousin or male family friend who is suping up a raggedy car. He’s trying to make his mid-priced car into something it isn’t, i.e. buying a Chrysler 300M and calling it his Baby Bentley or putting Lamborghini doors on a Honda Civic. 

I dare anyone to tell me these things don’t happen in the community. From the burbs to the hood it happens. And it isn’t all the time relegated to the family. On our jobs, in our churches, in the stores during holiday time, there is always that one Black person around who makes you hate the fact that we gotta always act up and out while at the same time makes you love the fact that your people are so “colorful.” 

Tonight, I encountered one such person. At a meeting for a nonprofit I’ve signed on to volunteer with, there was one woman who wouldn’t stop having “moments.” When the group leader tried to speak in vague terms without calling anybody out and just posing it as a suggestion to the group, in true “there’s always one” fashion, she says, “Are you talking about something specific? Tell me.” When informed that she didn’t do something within the realm of proper protocol, she says, “Uh hmm, I got a paper trail. I always keep a paper trail. I can pull the emails I sent.” And after I tried to help provide clarity on a matter, she told me, “Well aren’t you just so articulate. You so well-spoken.” Note: this was said with pursed lips and a roll of the eyes. Needless to say this was not her attempt at a thank you or compliment. 

Folks like her are the ones who when you are trying to resolve a matter discreetly, they get all loud and draw attention thinking it will help their cause. Or they don’t balance their checkbook and go in the bank telling the clerk that something is wrong with their account and they need a manger to fix it right away. Yeeepppppp!!!!!

Now I don’t claim that other racial groups don’t have some mess that’s common to them, but I love my people and hate them at the same time for ALWAYS BEING THE ONE!!!