white

“Cracker” is what I would be referred to at times and it never bothered me. Not because it wasn’t derogatory, but because it literally held no actual weight on society as I knew it. “Crackers” weren’t systematically oppressed. “Crackers” weren’t being targeted by the police. Being a “Cracker” didn’t affect your place in society. “Cracker” was just a word.

Many people ask well “if the N word is so bad to say, then why isn’t the C word as bad” One is a word and the other torments you. One word is used as a clap back and the other is used to cut you. One is the word of the moment, the other is a word derived from the cruelest moments in our nation’s history.

Other people ask the question, “Why can’t I say the N word if Black people say it to each other?’

It is because THAT is their word. The N word has been used as a racial slur and a representation of the oppression for centuries. Since the blood was first placed on the white hand by the slavery they instilled in this nation. That blood, stains. Every time a white person says the N word, it cuts like a knife in an open wound. The N word represents all that is wrong with White vs. Black in this country. Our Black American citizens decided that rather than let this word be used against them, they keep it. That by being so restrained in its use, it gives white Americans (specifically) a taste of what it is like to not be entitled to “do anything they please, anywhere.”

So no, the C word will never be equal to the N word because Black Americans have never been offered that same opportunity. They have been kneeled on by the power of government and law in a country that’s primary principle is that All Men Were Created Equal and All Men Deserve Life, Liberty, and the Pursuit of Happiness.

So “Crackers”, if you find this word offensive, think of what a lifetime of being exploited feels like.

No, I did not say living on the “right” side or that white had any other influence in my soul than the color of skin I was given. Colors mean something because we have allowed them to separate us. Groups, placed by the few powerful, to separate all of us from our greatest strength, ALL OF US.

My daughter inspired me to write this because she has been affected by this “group” she is associated with. She is a half white, half Colombian little person just beginning to understand the barriers society has placed on us.

She came to me the other day and said, “Mommy, the worst thing anyone ever said to me was, white girl white girl white girl.” She said it wasn’t because of what they said but how they said it. The girls taunting her were young black girls in our neighborhood.

We lived in a neighborhood where she was the only white girl. She and I believe in rich culture. Money didn’t define us, our relationships did. We were poor, but making it through. Like everyone else in the neighborhood. We understood what it felt like to go with bread and eggs in our refrigerator because her father was not providing financial support. We understood what it felt like to have to do laundry and walk a mile to get to the laundry mat just to save money on washing clothes. But in the eyes of our peers, we were White. My daughter looked up to those girls. They were a part of her home.

I grew up, up north, in Rhode Island where everyone was blended and the beauty of mixing cultures was ever so prevalent. My best friends were triplets mixed with Native American, Black, and White. I moved to the south at 16 years old to live with my mother as my father had gone to federal prison. I moved to a southern town, dated in its appearance to the time before the south had lost. Every culture was there, yet separate. Every cafeteria table was a different “group”. I wasn’t raised to see the differences. I was taught to embrace the similarities.

At that time, 16 years old, I was also poor and my mother was sick. I didn’t want to live there, I didn’t want to go to that school. I didn’t want to be “grouped” with others because of what they believed I represent. I let music decide what I would do next.

I was very much into Hip Hop as I was a beat away from NYC where it was flourishing. When I got to the south, I began to hear the sound of Trap Music and Caribbean vibes and fell in love.

From that moment on, I would stand in the culture and break the stereotype. I would teach my daughter to learn people from the inside out. Celebrate the beautiful differences and though many will only see you as the color of your skin, remember that we are more alike. Not understanding each other is one thing, leading with blind prejudice is another. Whether you are black, white, asian, or any other race, we shouldn’t judge each other by the one thing in life that we didn’t choose; the color of our skin.

The C word VS the N word and why they are not the same.

Living on the “White” side of things