Family of color, an epic journey

     I have lived recently in two households of all color. We recognized one another as family. We embraced each other as sisters. We worked together for sustenance, for laughter, for healing. We made heads turn questioningly and curiously at our comfort with one another. It was not typical. I was not trying to look and act black and my sisters were not trying to look and act white. Then in came the "others". The first time it happened, I was over stressed already. So, when racist blacks came a'preachin' in our presence, my "give a shit broke", I completely disassociated from the issue and lived in my airy-fairy "everybody loves me, listen, observe, remain open and out there" reality. I did it for me, the over-taxed highly sensitive soul within me. I learned it is believed white people were the odd ones born and rejected from the tribes of mankind. The hatred of whites toward people of color is believed to be due to resentment for that rejection. Rejection of white skinned children as a potential truth of our shared reality is evidenced in ancient Jewish scripture/"Old Testament" conveniently not included by white's man's religion, Christianity, in the bible which they claim to be THE scriptures. It happened in Noah's family: the birth of a light-skinned, fair-haired child was met with great concern because of it's unusual coloring. One could imagine a parent questioning giving birth to an oddity, a whole tribe wondering about it's responsibility for such a thing. In nature, albinos are not long in living. Animals will eat their own young born of unusual coloring. Unusual coloring stands out from a herd, making an easier target for predators. Overly colorful creatures and plants are often poisonous, lending precedence to a threat being signified by unusual coloring. Unusually colored children met with fear and/or resentment would grow to be adults overcompensating for insecurity with hatred and in perceived need for pre-preemptive self-defense, aggression. I can see how there would be truth to such a story of whites being angry for having been rejected. Such a story would only justify prejudice, racial superiority and slavery based upon insecurity and a perceived need or desire for vengeance.
   I did not dwell upon any of this, nor did I give it voice at that time. Instead, I focused upon a moment with my young black lover in which we sat transfixed in the night at the sight of our hands: palm to palm, wrapping them around each other, then intertwined, dancing hands,..sharing in the awe at the beauty, magnificence, and wonder of living contrasting colors united....skin to skin, child-like innocence, tenderness, fascination, appreciation.
    The next time my inter-racial family experience was interrupted, I was not over stressed. First came the mixed boy who was simply uncertain. Then came the more aggressive black one who was clearly antagonistic.
    Repeated experiences contain messages. Something needs healing in me. So, I began exploring the thoughts as they came to me. I began to allow myself to explore the feelings.
    As a young child there was always a black face in our family gatherings as well as our day-to-day experience. His name was Christie. A dark skinned face always evokes a sense of family, of familiar and thus a sense of acceptance and security. Then my awareness was brought into the bigger community. Upon seeing a group of children playing, I eagerly approached them. They ran away making a raucous. I felt confusion, a lack of understanding resulting in insecurity. Yes, they were black and "white" was heard by me. In high school the colored children who moved into our small town were unapproachable, seemingly uninterested in friendship, socially distant. In college a black man flirted with me aggressively. When I reached out to touch a medallion around his neck, asking what it meant because he had been boasting of it, he slapped my hand away, sharply stating "That's not to be touched by a white person like you!". My heart began to harden with disgust and the accusation  toward him of "hypocrite, I'm good enough to flirt with, to touch my skin, yet I may not touch your medallion?!". When I went to work a black man was as lazy as lazy could be. The bosses would warn him but he would threaten with screams of "it's racism!" Even his black companions shook their heads at him and distanced themselves from him when he did it. I began to understand white resentment at being legally required to hire based on minority status. I extended my awareness even further out into the world as whole when I began to awaken and seek true understanding and came to see how whites really are a minority. We came from dark skinned ancestors and live in a world with greater numbers of darker skinned relations who hate white skinned western man. More feelings of inferiority accumulated along with adopted apologetic racial and religious guilt for atrocities committed through the ages. There is racial envy; the wishing for darker skin and/or some sort of ancient cultural connection. I had been carrying childhood hurt, teenage angst and resentment, adult comprehension of "reality" and then a sense of inferiority. layers of "issues" with color. I learned to respect color differences in honor of acknowledging their culturally different experiences rather than continuing "not to see color at all" and treating them as if they were "just like me". All of this layered beneath the original  sense of family, of familiar and thus a sense of acceptance and security. Of course I would favor the positive emotions and deny or repress the negative. Of course I would lead with the embodiment of the positive in interactions and relationships.
   As I allowed the memories, thoughts and feelings to flow I could feel the hurt and the fear that had been living so long within me. I had reason to leave my room to take care of my children's needs, knowing the antagonistic black young man was out there. A part of me wanted to deny our needs and remain isolated, safely closeted in our room away from the conflict and uncomfortable environment. I chose to walk through my fear in love and compassion for what I was feeling. I opened my bedroom door and stepped out. I would face whatever was waiting for me, even if it be like the last time where clear intention to terrorize myself and my children had been exercised upon me. I was filled with sheer terror and insecurity about my place in the home in which I had been living with each and every step I was taking out of my room and away from my children....."What right did I have to be here?!" came the thought whispers. I breathed and loved myself deeply, acknowledging the perceived validity of such a question while defending my presence; "I was invited". I continued to reflect inwardly. The super-naturally powerful beast of anger came into me. "He" was born to counter-balance these things, in loving protection of the beloved child that is me. I lovingly embraced and comforted and extended this understanding with gratitude for the desire to protect unto "him" in me. When my chore was finished I sat outside. I experienced piercing emotional pain, then the pain of releasing such fear and more pain of the wounded child in me. I cried out the layers of experience and negative emotions and thoughts that had come with them. I felt the pain of being on the receiving end of the anger it took to alienate my young black lover from me as I had learned he had a girlfriend already who he wouldn't be leaving. When he knew I had learned of this and I refused to be a part of dishonesty with his girlfriend, he struck out by blocking me from his experience completely. It is his shame he is feeling, not mine. I commit to not taking it personally. I saw the sheer number of black women who reject their children's affection: "Do not touch me! Stop telling me you love me!", and I commit to myself not to take rejection of MY affection and adoration of black family personally. It's not at all really about me. It was done to them and they are simply repeating their parent's pattern of fear and insecurity with not just white family.
    The young black antagonist comes into my presence again. He interacts much more softly and companionably. I had healed me that morning. In doing so, he experienced a softening around me. The uncertain one exhibits a greater sense of security, more confidence around me. I am now less conflicted in me and emanating a greater sense of security. Thank you for coming with me on this part of my journey. I honor the journey you are making.
    Now I must walk lovingly through my fear of sharing my story of racism to whispering thoughts of "Your experience isn't traumatic enough to relate, to matter, to have a place in this case, what are you whining about, poor little white girl of privileged life?!.........." It was traumatic enough for me. I matter or it wouldn't have happened to me, I wouldn't be here, I wouldn't be moved to speak. My place is always exactly where I find myself to be. What privilege is there in alienation due to animosity?