Mental Scars

You know, no one likes to be picked on. No one likes to be made fun of. (There is nothing like making your point twice in the first paragraph. I could totally end this rant right here if I chose to…booyah!) I know what it’s like to be picked on. At the same time I know what it is like to pick on other people. But it is different when it is you.

I’ve been black all my life. Unless I develop vitiligo, I suspect that won’t change. Point is this, I’m not just black. I’m very black. Not blue. Not purple. Not blurple. But I am darker than the average bear. Kids in their cruelty have no problem telling you this. There is nothing wrong with being black. However I’ve noticed things in our society I’ll bring up later. Things that have filtered down through the years that simply isn’t true.

As a child growing up in South Carolina, I was the butt of many black jokes and taunts. At school was the worse. Children are merciless. The worse year I had in school was 3rd grade. It seemed like that particular group of kids was the liveliest. From this group I developed insecurities with my skin color and my ability to make friends. I was an outcast the whole year. To add insult to injury, I had a teacher that had a personal dislike for me. So, the taunts were ended so she could continue teaching, not because she cared. To this day, I hate the 3rd grade. I feel this way simply because I have little to no good memories about it. Just being honest.

Now, I go home. At home there is food, water, and shelter. Sympathy for the bullying at school was nowhere to be found. In fact what I did find was a curious thing. My own family made fun of me because of my dark skin. I remember times hating being born black. What? You want me to lie? I hated it. I even wanted my skin to at least be lighter. That way I wouldn’t have to be like *Vua Rapun, and stand among the shamed ones.

(Vua Rapun is a Star Wars character. He was a noble solider in the Yuzong Vong race whose implants were manipulated to fail. When this happens to a Vong, his whole race disowns him because they believe that the gods hate him. He is then numbered among “the shamed ones”.)

It is also because of this that I discovered that I could not hang out with black people. I got along better with the white kids (this would continue into my adult life). To them, we’re all black. They never made fun of me (not to my face) because I was black. In fact I made and befriended one kid named Tim. We became like salt and pepper around school. With him, I felt considerably normal. We were friends from 4th grade until 7th when I moved away. There was an interesting occurrence in the fifth grade. We went on a field trip to a historic battle sight in Charleston, Fort Sumter. At this time I primarily hung out with the white kids. On the way there we sat in the back. Someone brought wrestling magazines. A certain girl’s uncle chaperoned her on this “eventful” trip. Yes, they were white. While looking at the different wrestlers, I remember pointing at “Sting” and saying, that’s me. I wanted to have big muscles like he did (in his early wrestling days, I might add). Then I heard this uncle say: “You’re not white. I know you wish you were white but you’re not”. Those words were so embarrassing to me and to everyone who heard him. I looked and all of the white kids hung their heads and everyone had that uncomfortable look and posture. No one said anything. I wanted to explode as I sat there holding yet another scar for life.

All of these things and many other things carried over into my adult life. Salvation cured much of it. But still no one likes to be picked on. So when you come up to me to tell me your black joke, consider some things:

1), I’ve already heard it.

2) If I do not laugh, it’s not because your joke is not funny, I just didn’t find it funny at the time.

3) I just may have something more interesting to talk about than the color of my skin.

I know, I know…they that love the Lord, nothing shall offend them (Psalm 119:165). If this is your basis for making fun of me then maybe you should rethink your position. I was riding with a friend who is white. He told me he was glad to move from a “certain” place. Everybody had a redneck joke for him. He got so sick of it. While he sat there and expressed his annoyance I had thoughts of my own. I told him, you just articulated how I feel about black jokes. Some are funny to be sure. But telling a black man black jokes won’t endear him to your heart anymore than telling a fat man a fat joke. Or a redneck a redneck joke.

My diagnosis is this. Don’t stop telling jokes. Just realize that it may or may not be welcome. And from one comedian to another, “Timing is everything.”