I have one of thoooooooose families.
I like to say we put the *fun* in dysfunctional.
My personal lineage goes back to Charlemagne on one side and the family of Will Rogers on the other.
I am basically the result of generations of blue blood gone slumming.
I have all the benefits of an indirect yet fully integrated (well except we don't have oriental or jewish people represented yet) family now. I love the various cultures that I get the opportunity to participate in. At this point the vast majority represents white trash, middle class white and black, reservation and non reservation Native Americans (there is a difference when you try to live completely *white* but aren't...I'm one of those). We also have a smattering of Puerto Ricans, Mexicans and 2nd & 3rd generation Poles. I have learned to not just accept, but to embrace all the various cultures. These people have brought out the best in me. I know what truly matters because of the family I relate too.
Its hard to believe that just a few generations ago my great Grandfather, who was a leader in the KKK disowned his own daughter for marrying a Cherokee (the beloved Grandpa I talk about so often). I hope Great Grandpa Cole turns in his grave. He was an evil man.
I also have the unfortunate propensity of some of my supposedly *higher class* relatives to snobbery in its various forms.
Kind of ironic now that I am the one in the ghetto again.
Blood will tell. I need to work on my attitude.
Me at 17.
My neighborhood is basically not white. I look white. I am 3/4 white, I guess I should look it. When I was young girl and lived in this area though, I didn't look so white. My skin has grown paler with age. The shape of my face has changed somewhat due to maturity and dental work. I don't blend in anymore (I was often mistaken for Mexican descent as a teen). My friends as a teen were mostly not white.
I thought I could move back here and not have any problems. I was wrong. It makes me sad that anyone would judge, by my pale look, that I would bigotted and discriminatory. It bothers me that I struggled so hard to better myself and now my improved speech and carriage makes people I want to be friends with actually wary of me.
But what really pisses me off is that last night, at nearly 10 pm, 4 well-dressed boys who happened to be black came to my door and asked to see my son. I let Walter go to the door so he could talk just a minute with these boys who he thought wanted to be his friend and learn about skateboarding (Walter did not actually know them). One of the boys sucker punched him for no reason other than he was a "white boy in the wrong neighborhood".
I probably should have called the police, instead I just told the little brats off. Promised the next time they came to my door I would call the police. I probably should have dumped a pail of water on him so he would have to explain that to his parents....but I didn't. I've got to move. Walter can not blend in with his white white skin and his hazel eyes. Walter is the target I've always said didn't exist.
I don't fit in anymore.