“Ashley. Can you come here a minute?” I know what this means. This means “bonding time.” I always love talking to mom late at night. It is the exception to the rule for bedtime and I always am able to open up to her more after the world turned into shadows. I think it’s kind of cool because Brittney and Nikki aren't old enough to sit here late at night and talk to Mom. Yet, here I am walking into her room so that I can learn and think about even more. It is cool to be a big kid.
We talk about a lot of different subject matter. We chat about school and what I like and dislike about it. We gossip about my teachers and if I thought they were good at it and what I will do differently. We chitchat about friends and how they make me feel and what we do when we play. At the end, we always talk about boys. We talked about the boys I liked and the ones that picked on me—mainly Jacob and Andrew.
"It’s because they like you, Ash." Ew! That might be grosser then the sex talk she had with me last year. I’m in fifth grade after all! Don’t Jacob and Andrew know we are too old for that kind of flirting? We were almost mature adults! These boys just act stupid. Last thing I want to think about is their ugly, little face wanting to hold my hand or take me out on a date! Okay, I better stop thinking about this because I'm grossing myself out. What if they want to kiss me?
"If they liked me they should be nice to me. I hate Jacob and Andrew." They always gang up on me. If they liked me, why in the world would they be assh—I mean jerks?
"Well, remember Anthony in kindergarten? He did the same thing. And you said he couldn't like you either. Didn’t he end up buying you flowers for your birthday? Remember? And you guys held hands when you learned how to roller skate."
"Are you kidding me, Mom? That's so disgusting. Anthony didn't like me. He just got me a present. That's what friends do! And we held hands so we didn't fall on our faces." My mom is completely irrational sometimes.
"Oh, he liked you, Ash. I could tell. But if you don’t want to believe me…" (I am going to let you in on a secret, but don’t tell Mom. Of course, I don’t believe her! Sure she is my mom, but she couldn't know anything about Anthony! She only met him twice! Two times! That’s it! He was my good friend, I'd know if he liked me when I am the one that played with him all the time!)
Mom was starting to huddle closer on her massive bed while I decided whether I would (and I didn’t) believe her or not. I always sit on the end of her bed in her black and white room. Her bed was quite possibly the most awesome bed ever! It was a water bed. I know most of your parents probably don’t have water beds so I will tell you how fun they are. It is like bouncing on a trampoline and jiggling like Jell-O at the same time! I know. I would be jealous too if I was you. While I sit on her Jell-O trampoline, I am curled up onto my side laying just like the letter “S.” She was on the right side of the bed, if you were looking at the room from the hallway that is. Their room was the typical suburban room: two dressers, one bed, two nightstands and random potpourri and candles throughout the room to add a sense of cleanliness since their room didn't get as thoroughly cleaned as the rest of the house. We live in the typical suburban neighborhood called Elgin. It has white picket fences and stay at home moms. Even though it looked typical, we have a very diverse area. We had to do a worksheet on our cities demographics a couple months ago and I found out Elgin is half male and half female. We are 46.5% Caucasians, 41.8% Hispanics and 7.1% “African American” families. My friend, Jordan, always tells me not to say “African American” because his parents aren’t from Africa and he is black. I like Jordan; he makes me laugh, so I listen.
I really like all the new lessons I can learn from the diversity of our city. I love tamales and Black History Month is always fun because we get to study a lot of powerful speeches. But right now, I don’t want to think about learning; I am anxious to know why Mom is leaning in and what she is going to tell me.
"Wanna know a secret?" Mom said while she yawned.
“YES!” I said, maybe a little too excitedly. Mom just gave me a look like I was waking up the neighborhood with my shout. I don’t think I can wake up the neighborhood even if I screamed (which you should know, I am an excellent screamer) but I let Mom think I can.
“When you first brought Anthony up, Dad was very excited about him for you.” What is she talking about? Why did Dad care I talked to Anthony? I asked her.
“Well, let’s see. I guess it is because Anthony is a very Italian name and Dad wants to teach you all about the heritage, or traditions, you come from. So he thought that it would be a great way to bring you into something that means so much to him.” Mom was confusing me. I know Dad is Italian because of all my aunts and uncles. They all talk about it a lot. So what does Anthony have to do with it?
“I don’t get it. Anthony is my friend, what does being Italian have to do with it?”
“Well, that’s the ironic part I guess. As you know, Anthony isn’t Italian at all.” How would I (or her for that matter) know if Anthony is Italian?
“Didn’t you just say Anthony is an Italian name? What do you mean he isn’t Italian? Did you ask his mom if he is?”
“Actually, your Dad did ask if Anthony had any Italian in his blood. His mom said he was just African American.”
“Just black? And… not Italian?” I don’t get how black and Italian make a difference.
“No… you seem confused?” Oh really? I seem confused? MAYBE IT IS BECAUSE I AM, MOM! I told her I was. (Duh.)
“Hold on really quick.” Mom was studying my expression and started to get up. That is bizarre; Mom never gets up during “bonding time.” She even left the room, while I am still stumped trying to figure out what Anthony has to do with anything and where the secret in all of this commotion is.
All of a sudden, Mom walked back into the room and in her hand, she has my yearbook! I ALREADY KNOW WHAT ANTHONY LOOKS LIKE! I am his friend! Geesh, for being my mom, she isn’t always the smartest!
“Why do you have my yearbook? I know what Anthony looks like.” I was staring at her like she is stupid. I don’t mean to, but like I said, I know what my friend looks like.
“Can you do me a favor?” Mom said. “Can you point out all the black kids in the class?”
“Well that’s easy.” I was looking at the page and pointing to Jordan who already told me he was black, Christina Mo who was also Chinese, and Andrew Swanson who was also white. I am not stupid. I know the color black.
“Ashley, those people have black hair.” Mom said as she held back her laughter.
“Well, duh! You just told me to point out the black people! I know what I am doing, Mom.”
“So… Do you think Dad is black?”
“Mom, you are being irrational here. Dad has black hair, so yes, Dad is black.”
“Ashley, darling, black doesn’t mean you have black hair. It means your ancestors, like your grandma or her mom or her mom, is from Africa. They are called black because their skin is darker.”
“So let me get this straight. You think only certain people are black and you can have black hair and not be black?” Mom nodded yes and told me to go to bed now. On my way back towards the stairs and back to my room my brain couldn’t turn off. You know, most people learn colors when they are two years old! I am ten and I still don’t understand! Growing up can be so challenging!
Geesh! Maybe this is why I should go to bed at bedtime. It is tough growing up. I better tell Dad that I know he isn’t black in the morning. I wonder what my version of the demographics of Elgin looks like. There are probably more black (haired) people than any other group in the entire universe! I better make a new graph of my version of Elgin soon.
Works Cited
“Races in Elgin, Illinois (IL) Detailed Stats: Ancestries, Foreign born residents, place of birth.” City-Data. Advameg Inc. 2010. Web. 09 Sept. 2010. http://www.city-data.com/races/races-Elgin-Illinois.html#ixzz0z56scgjG.
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