What Are You?
Bless his heart....a young guy was at the cash register when he struck up a conversation with me.
"Your name is Simone?" he asked.
"Yep, sure is," I replied.
"Do you know what your name means in Spanish?" he asked, testing me.
"Sure do. It means, "right on!" I replied.
I hated bursting his bubble but I had heard that so many times while growing up. People were constantly telling me the "meaning" of my name.
I went on. "You know, my mom didn't name me that because of the Spanish meaning. She named me after the French version."
He didn't take long to digest that one. "So are you Mexican?" he asked.
"Uh, no, I'm Black."
"Serious?" he asked, looking totally shocked.
I walked towards the door. He yelled back, "Where's your mom from?"
I smiled and said, "From the U.S."
It got me thinking about the many times I'm asked what I am. Have you ever had anyone come up to you and say, "What are you?"
One time, I was working in a big corporation when an elderly couple were sitting in the lobby. I hear them whispering back and forth. One of them saying, "No you ask her."
Finally, the lady says, "Excuse me dear but what are you?"
At that moment, I started to say, "A human being ma'am" but chose to answer politely.
If you've followed my blog long enough, you will know that I don't mind answering questions about being black. In fact, I'd rather you ask than to assume or regret not asking later. I just don't understand what it is that makes people wonder what I am.
I realized that I gave the young guy a shortened condensed version of who I am. Here's the long version:
"I'm a 47 year old woman who is blessed to have the greatest daughters in the world that are not only my kids but my friends. I'm sympathetic to everyone and everything, a giver, and a friend. I cry easily and laugh even more easily. I'm loved by God in spite of my moments (which are often) of failure. I love hard, play hard and live hard. I'm a cheerleader, an encourager, a writer, an artist, a cook, a blogger, a nature lover and a lover of all things creative. I'm a friend to the friendless and a mom to the mommyless. Oh, I almost forgot, I'm Black."
If you have any questions for me, please feel free to ask away in my comments. I'll do my very best to answer each and every one in my next post.
"Your name is Simone?" he asked.
"Yep, sure is," I replied.
"Do you know what your name means in Spanish?" he asked, testing me.
"Sure do. It means, "right on!" I replied.
I hated bursting his bubble but I had heard that so many times while growing up. People were constantly telling me the "meaning" of my name.
I went on. "You know, my mom didn't name me that because of the Spanish meaning. She named me after the French version."
He didn't take long to digest that one. "So are you Mexican?" he asked.
"Uh, no, I'm Black."
"Serious?" he asked, looking totally shocked.
I walked towards the door. He yelled back, "Where's your mom from?"
I smiled and said, "From the U.S."
It got me thinking about the many times I'm asked what I am. Have you ever had anyone come up to you and say, "What are you?"
One time, I was working in a big corporation when an elderly couple were sitting in the lobby. I hear them whispering back and forth. One of them saying, "No you ask her."
Finally, the lady says, "Excuse me dear but what are you?"
At that moment, I started to say, "A human being ma'am" but chose to answer politely.
If you've followed my blog long enough, you will know that I don't mind answering questions about being black. In fact, I'd rather you ask than to assume or regret not asking later. I just don't understand what it is that makes people wonder what I am.
I realized that I gave the young guy a shortened condensed version of who I am. Here's the long version:
"I'm a 47 year old woman who is blessed to have the greatest daughters in the world that are not only my kids but my friends. I'm sympathetic to everyone and everything, a giver, and a friend. I cry easily and laugh even more easily. I'm loved by God in spite of my moments (which are often) of failure. I love hard, play hard and live hard. I'm a cheerleader, an encourager, a writer, an artist, a cook, a blogger, a nature lover and a lover of all things creative. I'm a friend to the friendless and a mom to the mommyless. Oh, I almost forgot, I'm Black."
If you have any questions for me, please feel free to ask away in my comments. I'll do my very best to answer each and every one in my next post.
Comments
My Mom is Cherokee Indian, I'm sure there was some African American thrown in there too.
My Dad is Irish American.
All of my sisters and brothers have very light skin, hair and eyes. I have very olive skin, black hair and eyes.
I was born and raised in the South.
Rosa Parks took her seat on the bus right down the street from me.
I didn't fit in AT ALL. Our milkman when I was born (yes, I'm THAT old) stopped by the house for his delivery. He was a sweet black man and loved children. He asked Dad if he could see the new baby. He picked me up and declared "Mr. Norman, she looks more like MY baby than yours!" It was a joke for years.
When the schools were intergrated, I was in the 5th grade. I became fast friends with Kanotta. I would spend endless hours with her, playing with her sisters and her neighbors. Life was great until my Sister drove there to pick me up one day. That was the day they found out I was white.
It happens to this day, only now I stay out of the sun and my skintone has faded remarkably. Now people ask me if I'm mexican. I always hated that people had to be catagorized. If you're a cat lover, you don't say "ummmm, I don't care for calico cats, I only like tabbys". Dog lovers don't pet Rottweilers and bypass the sweet beagle that's wagging his tail and smiling with his eyes. If you're a lover of Homo sapiens, we're all that species. It's time for this maddness to stop.
Whew...quite the soapbox for so early in the morning. Sorry. I hope in spite of my rants that you have a beautiful Monday~
♥,Lilly
Hubby get's that "what are ya" thing all the time. He has American Indian on both sides but his Great-Great Grandma Hanna was Black-Indian. He is mistaken from Mexican-Jewish but to me he's simply Hubby!
God bless ya girl and have a glorious day!!!
I was like WHAT????? Firstly, I'm not, but regardless, why in the world would someone ask that question?
I have never been asked that question. Usually, it's this one: Who are you and what have you done with my mother?
I get asked, sometimes, where my ancestors are from but I am definately white, anglo-saxon protestant.
I agree with your description of yourself. You are definately a Barnabus (an encourager) with a sweet empathetic soul.
What you are is a wonderful person.
I like your description. :)
I've been mistaken for Japanese many times but then again, all Asians look alike.
Happy Tueday, Simone.
I love you, whatever you are - black, white, Asian, etc.
My mom has often been asked that question because of her fair complexion and her accent. Granted, I don't know what others hear when they hear her speak. She just pronounces certain words different.
As my sister and I grew up, I believe most people assumed we weren't black because our hair was mid-back in length w/o a perm. Others just assume I'm anything but an african american woman.
I can't believe you have actually been asked "What are you". I have certainly asked acquaintances with whom I was already engaged in a "getting to know you" conversation about their ethnic background. But what are you? Sorry, but even stated politely that just sounds so rude.
They said they were part Polish, part Russian, and a mixture of almost everything else. But I had to know!