I woke up in Brooklyn this morning.
It fit me like a pair of leather turquoise ballerina flats.
I have come to the conclusion that the reason why
this place suits me is that it serves as a mental buffer as I
am a person who thinks, lives and breathes on the margins.
My thoughts and views are not mainstream. I mean, the blog
is named Model Minority for a reason.
When I am talking race with a white person, or Black masculinity
with a woman, or "welfare reform" with a Latino Libertarian,
many time I depart these conversations feeling like I am on the
margin of the margins. It can be a lonely place.
However, I am not complaining, in fact, I think that is why Bk'lyn
holds me down the way that it does.
For instance, I was on the 3 train this morning, and all 35 people
on the train were Black. EVEN though, many times, my thoughts,
politics, and beliefs place me in the margin of the margins,
In that moment, on the train, I am not on the margin of the margins
and it isn't as lonely.
Speaking of Brooklyn. Last night I was walking on Fulton with
Filthy and we got the bugged out ice grills from the older Black men.
Normally he doesn't notice, but this time, it not only struck me,
but him as well.
I pointed that when I was here last, that we were walking around,
and that didn't happen. But he reminded me that we weren't in
the hood, we were downtown and in Fort Green which of course, is a
The other side of it is that folks smile at us. On two occasions
yesterday at the MOMA, women smiled at us. I imagine that we
are a sight. Me with my tight jeans, bucket hat, and big green
earrings, he with the train conductor jeans, apple hat and country
@ss accent, an interesting mess.
We all know that I am already paranoid. Now being out with a white
dude will add an extra layer of "Did he/she just say that to me
because I just walked into this bodega/restaurant /Banana Republic
with someone who isn't black?"
For instance, we stopped inside that pattie place on Flatbush last night.
The server was taking his sweet time to give me my food, and when
he handed me my change he dropped my coins. I was like is this is
this how its going to be? Black men doing little sh-t to irk me in public
because they disapprove?
Filthy pointed out two things. The first thing was that that on
its, face it may seem like the cashier was trying to disrespect, but he
wasn't very friendly to the customer just ahead of me, so he just may be a
grumpy @ss to everyone. But, once I got outside, I tasted the
pattie and it was all warm, good and full of vegetables. The second
thing that he pointed out was that while he was taking is time,
it could be indicative of him trying to hook me up with the proper pattie.
So. In the end, you never know why people do what they do.
The most important thing, I am coming to understand is that 70% of
what people say and do to you has nothing to do with you. Nothing.
How do you avoid taking things personal?
When was the last time you took something personal?