Shut up and smile

I wasn't going to share this.

Admittedly under very different circumstances, I wouldn't ever. EVER. Share this. But after everything, I can't NOT share it. My experience pales in comparison to so many other experiences. But I've come to understand, and learn that it in no way is less significant. It is no less important. Let me set the scene.

2018, around December.

I was living in England- no not in London. I hate this part- there are other places in England that are not London. I lived up North in the City of York.

Did you finish your from "New York" to "old" York joke? On God, for every dollar I got for every person who made that joke- I'd be rich. It ain't funny. Seriously it's not.

I was there doing my Masters. I was still convincing myself that getting an education, a Masters degree was the way to me. It wasn't, not entirely, but I digress. I lived in the country for almost two whole years. If I had had my way I'd still be there. I love England. I can't quite explain it to you than to ask you- if there was ever a place that you just felt... COMPLETE? In my 32 years of life (so far) England has been the only place where I have felt... whole. At home. It is home in my bones, it is home to me. It's not London. I hate London. It's England. Don't mean I'm blind though.

Continuing....

While at uni- I met a guy. Pause here for family members who thought I was lesbian. I'll deal with your bullshit another time. Yes a whole tall- fit, English man! I was so damn confused. You're wondering why I was so confused. Well because this adonis of an individual was interested in .... ME? I still haven't quite wrapped my head around that. Yes, I have issues- I have body issues, I have self esteem issues. I got the issues. So I couldn't wrap my mind around a good looking- and ya'll I will not sugar coat it. He was FINE. I mean... Beautiful. You think I'm lying but I'm not. He was.

Athlete- check, Former Military- check, Tall- check. Educated- Check. Sexy accent-Double Check.

He had issues - I will not lie and say that I did not see those issues night one.

Yes, I said Night One.

I chose to ignore them. I chose to look the other way. Because in a sick, twisted part of myself- I thought... I could help him. But not in a "i'ma fix this man and live perfectly ever after" way of help. It was a real concern of seeing someone who could use a little friendship. I've learned the hard way. You can not help those who do not wish to be helped. More importantly. You are not here to help the broken. It is not your job to fix others. You are not responsible for fixing other people.

Do you understand me? Dear reader are you understanding me? You are not responsible for fixing ANYONE. You can and should help, however you can- but that help does not. I repeat- does NOT come at the expense of yourself. Because no matter what. You Matter. You. YOU. matter so much. Are we clear? ok, cool- back to the point.

Now, In my mind- you know because I've always been over weight and I was conditioned to think that because I was hefty no one would pay me no mind. I ain't even going to go into my daddy issues- I mean I could- but I just have a policy of not discussing the irrelevant. Daddy was irrelevant in my life then and continues to be so. No ill will- just truly no point to discuss. Other than my abandonment issues, he ain't give me shit. Ok maybe life- but mom helped with that- ew -moving on.

So dude was gorgeous right. No idea if he would ever read this blog- but I'm not naming names so... who cares? Anyways- Gorgeous. I keep saying it because I, to this day- a whole three years later, am STILL in denial. I'm not obsessed or anything. Oh, please like if it wasn't you-you wouldn't be? Reader- Boy/Girl Bye. I stood up for myself and told 'em where to stick it in the end- I know my self worth- barely- but I know it. So he fine. Sets the stage enough- inflates the ego enough. Now I remember I went to a local pub- actually I think it was a proper bar with two of my friends. Now we were the only over 25 members of our group- and I loved my Uni group. I love my Uni-people so much. I was the only non-white person in our group. Every one, save the three of us were under 25. But we knew- the three of us, that we understood, and had over come things that they may never have to and that only the three of us could really understand. I thought on one level, it was deep Af. But again- you aren't here to fix anybody. You can only fix yourself. You can help, maybe provide yourself as an example to others- but it's not your job to fix them. I'll always be here for anyone who needs me. But it just wasn't right.

So we are sitting in this bar. Of course, I'm gabbing away- moaning for the english, about my guy and how he won't text me back- but I know he read the messages etc. etc. By the way- any men on here- why do ya'll do that? It's very irritating... in case you ain't figure that out- it is. Extremely so.

PSA: WhatsApp is a SNITCH. You open the message- it shows that.

So now a bit of context here again. One of these ladies is English- the other is a White American. I'm not blasting anyone so there's your context- continuing. As I'm moaning right. I say.. "I want to know why he's interested in me. I want to ask. I need to know why me. Why Me?"

Now. Another pause- I know, I'm sorry my loves but I have to do the pauses. My stuff isn't superficial- there are layers- I'm Shrek and the Blog is my onion remember? Anyways...

On a very deep, undiscussed, unacknowledged level. I know it has nothing to do with me being a big girl. I know what I look like. I know the cruelty that drives people to be intimate or whatever with over-weight/ plus size people. I've come to accept that particular battle long ago. If I'm truly 100% honest here. You know I will be; my concern was about weight. But it had more to do with RACE than weight. See. In my mind. Ok, I was hefty. But I am also brown. And Brown... is WORSE than Heavy.

Ima say that again. Brown is worse than Heavy. I'm going to let that sink in for you.

My fear of PHYSICALLY not being accepted was NO MATCH for my Fear of not being RACIALLY accepted. I'm not bullshitting you here. It genuinely. TRULY is something I grapple with. I'm not Black. I'm Latina. I guarantee you every Latina/Latino who entertains a romance with anyone non-Latino/a has the same concern. Particularly because I like White dudes. I just do. I like my white boys. I think they are hot. I can't deal with my own kind- Latinos.... I... Just...Can...Not. I have tried. They are fine specimens of humanity... but... when I tell you I can... NOT. I can Not. My Latina mothers... we NEED to do better with our sons. The level of Toxic masculinity... I can't. I'm sorry. I tried. I can't.

I've never openly voiced my concern for not being racially accepted in a relationship. I'm light skinned right? So I could "fake it 'till, I make it." Problem sometimes is that I think I fake it so hard... I even forget who I am. I forget that my ancestors are not only European, but more significantly, they are melanin laden. They were brown, they were fighters, they were challengers, they were not the white man. Sure, some of them were, and truth be told I can trace my heritage to Francisco Franco- the Dictator of Spain. A fascist. But it's easy to over look the brown part of heritage when it's not looking at you in the mirror, when you are conditioned to ignore it. It's easy to overlook the sins of the White as well. It's so easy, to ignore and forget, when you are 'passing'.

Are you unfamiliar with the notion of 'Passing'? It's a term for those of mixed race who appear more white than their counterpart. People who 'Pass' are able to live life as white, to live semi- or entirely- undetected, as White. They are not, however, White. But they look White- ergo they are 'Passing' as White. During Slavery, children of White slave owners by their slaves who were light enough in skin color- could live out their lives as whites. I'll never forget reading "Wolf By the Ears" By Ann Rinaldi. It had a profound impact on me, and my understanding of what "Passing" could be and indeed was. It didn't matter that it was a fictional portrayal. I understood it's meaning to my very core. Passing was a path to success. Passing was a form of safety. But Passing is a deep rooted lie and there are moments in the quiet when you can hear the voices of your ancestors that you ignore in the light. One day it crashes down, Your facade cracks. You can no longer look blindly, sympathize, defend the team you've joined. The facade doesn't always hold. At least mine didn't, or rather it's beginning to shatter.

See I never saw myself as different from my friends in elementary school. I hadn't yet understood the difference my skin tone could make. That my last name could make. I got an in-cling of what it was to be different in Elementary school. But it wasn't until summer camp when I was 12, that I truly began to understand what it was. It wasn't until a White girl threw my shoes out the window because she and the two other White girls in our room thought it was funny -after teaming up on me. I lost my shit. I reacted so strongly- and in such a strong "hood' way. By hood I mean the same way anyone in my neighborhood would have reacted. really anyone who was attacked would have reacted. I straight told the bitch- Ima end you. I remember physically laying my hands on the bitch. Yeah. I'm still mad. Because now as an adult I understand the under-layers of it all differently. It was such an attack that was in a complete juxtapose to the white way of business that I had to be put in my place. Kids will be kids right?

Wrong boo. Because I had reacted in defense of myself and my items, I was the "agressor". I threatened them. Pause for surprise. Yeah, I threatened them. Did I take their property and toss it out a window? No. Did I physically hit them, yes, but only because it was three against one and two physically restrained me. So yeah- I physically hit them when I managed to get free. But yet- I learned that I was the problem. I was the uncontrollable element in the situation. It was my fault they threw my property out the window. It was my fault they felt "unsafe" later that night. That they felt they needed to go to our camp counselors as a group and discuss how they felt "unsafe" with me in the room. It was why the next day I found myself sitting in a room with the head of camp and these girls all pointing the finger at me. I spent the rest of my camp experience in my own bubble btw. I ain't deal with any of those chicks ever again. Not never. Lake day? Alone. Exercise day? Alone. Not a one of those bitches ever made it to my circle. Ever again.

Dear Reader- I've learned, No one will ignore you as hard as I do. I'll have you wondering if you even exist. That's how hard I will remove you from my circle. Hard. Completely. Utterly. But the best part... No one told my mom what had happened. She never knew about the incident. They ain't tell her. I learned this a whole 20 years later. She ain't know shit. I was shocked. But I really wasn't.

Point is... I was terrified that my actions would be deemed as "too much". That goes for all aspects of my life. That one incident in Camp bled through to everything else. I won't lie and say I was an easy cookie. No. I wasn't. I'm still not. I'm hot tempered, I'm loud, I'm opinionated. If I don't like something I open my small mouth and belt out my reasons why I don't appreciate/ or disagree with that. I have no problem voicing my opinions. I've come to understand that those opinions aren't wrong because of the way I voice them. They are no less important, or valuable because I voice them. I have lost jobs because I will not- no matter what, tolerate bullshit. What this character trait has gotten me is a reputation-as a 'trouble maker". Bet. I'm ok with that. Now.

There's something that as a Latina, as a First generation American Latina- I know that only other children of immigrants, first generations, can truly understand is- we just want to find a place to belong. It's a deep valley of in-between we find ourselves in. We are neither entirely of one, nor are we of the other. We just want to have a place. But we are children of the great, wide, deep in between. We exist within two countries, or more if thats the case, but we are entitled to both but often, more often than people imagine, we are forced to chose or entirely reject. I want to go into this because it's such an important point to make, and one that I don't think is often discussed. I had a very deep conversation about this with a dear friend on this. And I realized that despite our age gap, we both understood what it was to exist in the hollow between to worlds. Between immigrant and citizen. It certainly does not receive enough attention. It's not my direct point here however. But it will be another time. Because existing in two worlds is exhausting.

So flash to 2018, I'm sitting in this bar saying to my friends "Why Me?" Knowing- that I'm terrified that the answer isn't- fat fetish. But Brown fetish. I shit you not... the American friend looks me dead in the eyes and says "Don't ask him. You won't like the answer. He might say it's a brown girl thing".

Reader... when I tell you I didn't know what the absolute fuck to say... I did not know what the actual fuck to say. See. I knew that I had THOUGHT it. Trembled at the thought that I was some race fetish on his notch of women. But what I had- naively- never anticipated was that someone would so comfortably say that to me. Well you like honesty right Duchess? ... Um yeah... but this wasn't honesty here. This is the same person who sat across another table for me when we discussed race issues in the US and said "I can't comment because it doesn't effect me. What I can do is listen as a friend."

Did I check her? Bet your ass I did.

I believe my words were "As a white woman- you have a platform. No, you can't opinion-ate on the issue but you have an obligation as an 'Ally' to elevate the issue. To amplify the issue.Your silence is the problem."

The problem was that she didn't jump to my weight, my age, our nationalities. She jumped to our races. The difference in our races. We couldn't possibly be compatible because we were of two different races. Forget that I'm a big girl and he was/ is a athlete. He's white, I'm brown. That was where she jumped. That, was my last wakeup call. The last time I was woken up by racial bullshit. That's not the correct response. Under any circumstance. There were so many other responses that would have fit. Would have made sense, would have been better. Hers, was not one of them. Of course it wasn't until I had woken up to this moment that I picked up on layers upon layers of other things she and others said that made me recognize, and that caused the shattering of my 'passing' facade. In the moment they were said I didn't acknowledge, couldn't or wouldn't acknowledge what they were. But after, believe me I woke up quick and I took notes. I stayed vigilant.

It didn't end well with the Adonis. But It was better that way. I never asked him, Why me. I grew to understand it's better sometimes, if you don't ask that question. For your own sanity. I grew to learn that I didn't need the answer, because the answer doesn't define me anymore. Always challenge the issue loves, just don't try to fix the broken people. Don't try to reason with the unreasonable. Take your flag, your cross, your heritage, hold it high, and hold it close. That you can control, that you can change. You can change the narrative, you can challenge that, and you should every chance you get. But you can't fix the broken. Work on mending what hasn't been broken yet. Sometimes, it's easier to Shut up and Smile.

Don't do that. Shut THEM up and Smile while you walk away.

With Some Type of Love,

The Duchess