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It Is Okay To Be The Weird Black Girl

Condemnation (noun) : the expression of very strong disapproval; censure

For years I have been the outcast, but not the outcast who just dressed differently or who listened to peculiar music, although I was guilty of that too. I was the little girl who was not “black enough”. My siblings and I were taught to be proud of who we were and where we came from and that my blackness was not something to be ashamed of. I was taught at a young age the “proper” way to carry, compose, and articulate myself; however, that wasn’t enough.

I was the bull with the target on its back.

My first memory of feeling differently was at 11 years old. It was a gloomy day and the air smelled of yesterday nights rain. I was wearing my favorite navy blue jumper with white ruffle socks. It was lunch time, I grabbed my milk carton, tray of pb&j and carrots and took a seat with the rest of my class. “Hey guys, how’s it going ? Within moments, I heard “You talk so white, let’s move guys I told y'all she's a weirdo.”

Alone I sat.

I never understood why being myself bothered people so much who looked just like me. I never understood why my style, soft personality, proper dialect, ironed blouses, interests, and music taste bothered my own people to the point of making me