What Am I Again?

To understand this story, I have to briefly indulge you on my heritage. My father’s side is 100% pure Cherokee Native American Indian. My mother’s side has no influence in this story, but you need to know my maiden name has the word “black” in it. I come from a very sarcastic, teasing, yet loving family. Growing up I thought I looked like no one else in the family. For years I thought I was adopted because my older sister, fictitious told me, that I came from Indians - I believed her. Now fast forward a number of years. On one hot summer day, my sister rallied up the family at her home for a barbecue. During the meal, my sister reminisced about the mental torture she inflicted on my childhood. The whole family was laughing, listening to all the demented stories, and my sister felt it was the perfect time to bring up the adopted Native American story. The climatic moment of my sister’s pure bliss came to a screeching halt when my son proudly yelled out, “ My mommy was NOT adopted! She is very proud to be an African American!” Tears began streaming down some of my family members’ eyes. My son stood up for me and I was so honored ... wait a minute, did he say African American? One thing I forgot to mention is that I am also Caucasian. Yes, my son took it upon himself to add Native American plus my maiden name, with the word “black” in it and come up with my being a “proud African American!” Side splitting laughter came from everyone but my son - he was so confused. My sister came to his rescue and said, “Sweetie, do you know what an African American is?” “No,” my son bluntly replied. “An African American is a black person honey.” Well, my son’s proud demur fell fast and his face turned four shades of red as he uttered, “Oh, never mind then.”

Heather L.

photo credit: http://www.bigpinkquestionmark.org/bpqm2.jpg/bpqm2-full.jpg