I spent two whole weeks interrogating my mother, Rhonda,
about my childhood life so I could be ready for the
presentation. My mom instructed me to sit on her
monstrous sized bed as she went to search for a couple of
items. I patiently waited for her to bring back whatever it
was that she was looking for in the first place. Through the
abundance of weird noises coming from boxes and papers
she had searched through, it was safe to assume that she
had found what she needed, because the noise had
stopped. “Ma, hurry up please!” I said aggressively, yet with
much excitement. Finally, she had come back with a little
old black Nike shoe box. She had struggled to get it up on
the bed but eventually was successful and began to pull
out items from the box.
There were about 20 pictures, some toys, and a blanket in
that one little box. Mainly through pictures, my Mom
selectively pieced together information about my
childhood that was appropriate to discuss with my class.
I learned a lot of interesting things and knew more about
my childhood than I ever did before. She showed me
pictures from family trips, some of me as a naked infant,
and even a few of me in the hospital.
After listening to every little detail and seeing a handful of
childhood photos, I was convinced I was prepared for my
presentation. I began to put the photos away, but
something had caught my eye. “Ma, what’s that?” I asked.
She turned her head towards me and quickly responded,
“Oh nothing.” I dropped both of my shoulders, took a deep
breath, looked at my mom, and gave her a straight face in
disbelief. I ran past her, proceeded to investigate it myself,
and soon realized it was just a picture. The picture was old
and almost disintegrated, but I could still make it out. It
was a photo of a husky, dark toned woman holding me.
“Who’s this holding me, Mom?” I asked politely. She paused
for a quick second and said, “Oh, that’s your Aunt Debra.
“Who’s this holding me, Mom?” I asked politely. She paused
for a quick second and said, “Oh, that’s your Aunt Debra.”
With a confused look on my face I replied, “Oh. Okay, why
don’t I ever see her now?” She told me this elongated story
about my aunt, but all I remembered is that apparently she
was dead. This time I was really done interrogating my
mother and I went to bed because my presentation was
the next morning. Finally it was the day of the presentation,
and I was super excited. Everybody's parents were there: it
was so nice to hear everyone's life stories and to just
observe. Some people only brought their mom, their dad or
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or even both parents. That day it was just my mom and I,
and unfortunately, I was the last one to present, so the wait
was overwhelming due to my high level of enthusiasm.
About an hour had passed and my teacher finally said,
“Whitney, it’s your go.” I leaped out of my chair like a frog,
grabbed my mom by the wrist, and began my
presentation.
As I began to introduce my mom to the class, I knew
something was wrong. All I could see were eyes and all I
could hear were whispers.
These eyes were of second graders who seemed to have
been confused or disturbed by something, but I wasn’t sure
why. The whispers were rather chilling and gave me a type
of discomfort, but I fought through it. My presentation was
finally finished, and I got a very light applause at the end.
Before I could walk back to my seat, my friend, Jabria had
raised her hand as quick as the speed of light. “I have a
question, I have a question!” Jabria said ecstatically. “Why is
your mom so light, but you’re so dark? Do you look like your
dad?” I thought to myself for a moment and began to think
about the question and examine for myself. Finally, I was
about to answer until all my other classmates had started
to talk about our difference in appearance and make
negative comments also. "Yeah, they look nothing alike" or
"I've seen her dad before, and he's light “skinned too,” and
“Why don’t they look the same?” were all the questions I
was being bombarded with. I couldn’t even answer them,
because my classmates didn’t give me the chance to.
My teacher stopped all the commotion and announced,
“There is no more time left for questions, thank you all for
bringing your parents, and enjoy the rest of your day.”
Presentations were officially over with, my mom went back
to work and I went to the nearby recreational center where
all my friends hung out.
I saw almost everyone from class, and was excited to see
them, but it didn’t seem the same the other way around.
“Hey ya’ll!” I said as if I haven’t seen them in years. Everyone
responded back, but not like the way I expected them to. I
was expecting a greeting in return, but all I received were
sly comments and teasing due to my presentation earlier
that day. Keron, who I thought was a close friend of mine
repeatedly chanted while laughing, “You don’t look like
your mom. You’re so dark and she’s almost white! That’s
not right! That’s not right!” Soon after, more people began
to join in and tease me also. After a while it all stopped, but
I was emotionally hurt by what had happened. I had never