Like Me

There are a lots of strong views on writing about race. They don't come from people Like Me.

When I was little, no one was like me. Of course, all parents say: "You're very special, dear - there's no one just like you." Generally, this is a patent lie.

Most kids had virtual doppelgangers - same blond hair, same dimples. Same cowlicks. OK, maybe they weren't identical, but the likeness was so close it forced Moms to use that weasel word: "just." And that was in my school alone. Nation-wide, I knew those kids would resemble gazillions of others.

There were no kids like me, because there were no couples were like my Black father and White mother. On TV, at least, we could watch The Jefferson's long suffering neighbours. But they didn't live in my neighbourhood, or any neighbourhood. They were fictional and childless.

Now, we're everywhere. Some of us are famous; Barack Obama, Malcolm Gladwell, Tiger Woods, Halle Berry. Many of these people side-step the issue by being known as black.

That's not a lie, but its also not the whole story.

I wish I'd known more of us. I'd have asked a lot of questions. Like, how did they answer stupid questions about their "nationality" or "background" ? I found my own road, but it would have been nice to talk to a fellow traveler.

Some people say you should only write about your own race. Especially if you're White. My views on this follow, next post.