An Insulting Racial Compliment

Basically what I wore today

Bonjour Mes Chères,

I'd just like to share with you what happened today:

My husband and I went to an environmental conference today, which was very inspiring and actually helped solidify what I want to actually talk about in my blog (in addition to my everyday adventures and such)!

But before I get to that: at the end of the conference, we left the center, which was held in the downtown of our area and proceeded to cross the street. We were very happy, since my husband had just asked to carry my books, and I'd asked him to marry me again.

We then paused at the curb, hand-in-hand, as we saw two young Black men on a bike, coming down the street. We both smiled slightly and were going to go about our way, when one of the young men said:

"Don't ya got any friends your OWN complexion?! With cha cute ass..."

And proceeded to pedal away.

My husband and I were both a little stunned... gave each other the expression of "Huhhh?" And laughed out of shock. I said something, but then noticed that my Sicilian had taken on a stony expression behind his aviators and now had a very angry red face. He was also smiling...but there was nothing funny about his smile.

Then I blurted to my husband..."well, I AM cute!" and we proceeded to cross the street.

I have to admit, I was a bit scared my husband would run after the guys, but I'm glad he didn't.

I also have to say, I have conflicting feelings:

It was flattering that the offensive young man thought me cute: because it shows women don't need to dress trampy to look very attractive. I was completely covered from head to toe in my outfit, and with my black wool coat on: I was even more conservative, wearing a light blue 50s's style dress with black stockings underneath. I also wore loose, black, calf boots that are more country than city slicker. My hair was down and curly (not the socially normal/expected relaxed hair) with a chic scarf and I had on my little white gloves. And I also had a smile...that is, until boy-wonder on the bike spoke.


Now for the offensive part.

I was very upset and STUNNED that this youth felt he had the right to insult both me, my husband, and our sacred relationship. Not that he could tell that we're married, but whatever happened to respecting your elders? Or minding your own business? Or "If you don't have anything nice to say: keep it to yourself?"

What should we have done?
Yelled after him? And yelled what?
(no super macho or dummy comments like: "I would have knocked him off his bike!" My husband doesn't believe in violence, unless it's for defense. He wants to be Jesus' Homeboy)

What COULD we have done?
(We're adults. We're not in the same culture of "low class" where it's ok to hurl insults to strangers...and in my opinion...people of ANY race or income bracket can be a card-carrying member of the "culture of low/no class")

I guess I could have yelled: "Yes, but he's my husband!" Or "yes, they're called family!" But to be honest, I was stunned, and I'm not very quick with comebacks unfortunately.

You MAY be surprised to hear, but after almost 10 years together...this is our first confrontation with blatant verbal interracial dating criticism/bashing.

And we've lived in the Northeast AND the Midwest.

In the Midwest, people are mostly just curious to see us together.

While in the Northeast, I have to say that while the people weren't outright hostile, they did make vile assumptions behind our backs. While my Sicilian worked at a boarding school in the Northeast, I would come to visit, I sometimes got knowing--condescending smirks from the teachers and insinuating comments from the students; as if I were some sort of slutty woman, when in fact:

I WAS A VIRGIN UNTIL AFTER WE WERE ENGAGED! PAST THE AGE OF 24!

(And damn proud of it, considering how hot my husband is and how often I want him!)

So I was UNFAIRLY bashed/labeled by stuck up, (most likely) sexually-deprived, very wealthy Yuppies AND the rich, spoiled delinquents/ sexual promiscuous adolescents who were put in that school by their parents, because they were unbearable! (I'm still mad. I cherish my honor and had spent my life building a reputation I could be proud of, and being unfairly judged and condemned by such people...was infuriating!!!)

What was I saying????? I hear the blood flowing though my ears and I feel a certain bloodlust that comes with fury! (I kid on the "bloodlust")


Hum, after reading this post, I find an interesting correlation:

In the Northeast, I was unjustly, and non-verbally/underhandedly accused of being some sort of sex vixen.

While today, I was blatantly questioned on whether I had any friends who are "my own complexion."

(It's interesting how today's incident brought up my experience at my Husband's boarding school....)

Unsaid accusations....A question demanding an answer


Both are wrong, and put me in a defensive position.

Both are invasions of privacy.

Both are assumptions.

And both are coming from people of completely different backgrounds...but I think what connects both the snotty, filth-minded wealthy of that school...and the demeaning inquisition of the Black youth, was a lack of understanding about LOVE.

In BOTH situations, instead of immediately thinking: WOW! Those two much love each other, to face the everyday obstacles that come with an interracial relationship.....
They instead pervert our relationship: assuming I'm a "booty-call" instead of a virginal girl of strong morals...or they assume I shun those of "my own complexion" preferring the company of whites.

Although I still feel anger...for both of these situations...I also feel pity for these sorry creatures. Those blinded by greed and consumerism, so even their own offspring take a backseat...and those indefinably and perhaps irreversibly shaped by poverty and neglect, that they imprison themselves in a world with no hope of love.

I doubt neither will know the richness of a love that surpasses made-up borders.

Maybe my anger will wane with time...and I'll pray for them.

Maybe you can pray for me, to give me the strength to not be petty, but forgiving to those less fortunate, not having the riches of love.

Curly Headed Imogen....and her swishy-haired past

Hello Cherished Guest,

I'd like to declare today that I have curly hair!

(me, this morning, delicately shielding my face with an envelope )

("wow" you exclaim sarcastically...very exciting)


But this actually is very exciting news!


I've always worn my hair very long and very straight; coveting and basking in the glory of my long swishy locks that blew in the breeze...softly whispering of my Native American heritage. (I'm Metisse you see, which in the US, just means homogeneous"Black or African American"--which denotes a people who have the same racial heritage. But to me "Black" means very mixed, having the most diverse cultural and racial heritage ever).

Back to topic: I DID love my swishy hair... I loved being able to watch a Pantene commercial and then swish my hair around like the models. I loved the silky feel of my long ponytails and being able to whip them about me. But my hair wasn't unusual to me it was just a part of my life... all the women in my family have swishy hair...accept theirs is natural.


Growing up in all Black neighborhood, where swishy hair was not very common, I wasn't taught that I was "better" than my peers because of my swishy hair...but I WAS treated differently. As a child it was very odd and confusing to be treated differently because of my hair texture and length, it was almost as if I didn't belong.

Another thing that separated me from the other children was their curiosity concerning my Grandmother, who would often come up for Grandparents' Day or other functions. I was confused about why the children of my very urban elementary school called my Grandmother "Indian" and asked if I were Indian too..trying desperately to fit me, this chestnut colored girl with the long straight black hair, into a little box. Since it was the norm for me, my Grandmother's looks weren't unusual. My mother's very fair skin and silky waves of amber were more attributes that made me and my family stick out as a bit unusual.

During that time, I was sometimes I was adored...with girls wanting to comb and braid my hair...

Other times I was ostracized, intentionally: You're a Barbie! You've got Barbie Hair! Bet it smells plastic-y! Bet it's a weave! God! You're such a liar! that is not your real hair! Maybe I'll cut it! Let's pull it!

or unintentionally : "ooo, look at her! her hair just falls straight when she takes out her scrunchy! instead of being stiff! wow!"

But little did they know I actually had a head of very thick....very CURLY hair, that my immediate family had no idea how to handle...

All the women in my family have long, naturally straight or slightly waving hair. I attribute this to my various White and Native American grandparents and great grandparents. I, however, having a Creole grandmother or perhaps it was my glorious African heritage emerging... popped out bald, but later grew an unruly mass of curls on my little hazelnut head.

Instead of conditioning and then allowing them to coil and twist down my back, I think my female relatives were just a bit horrified, or at least at a complete loss on what to do with hair that poofed and curled, that snared buttons and pulled at rings.

So, they brushed, raked, oiled and straightened my curls. I suffered hot combs, hot irons, hot rollers, then later perms/relaxers. And for some reason, my hair did very well with these methods (minus the occasional bald period, when all the mirrors in my house mysteriously disappeared).

I grew to learn how to care for this elbow length swishy hair...never knowing the luxurious curls that were my inheritance.

After my marriage 3 months ago, I decided to chop off the rest of my relaxer (5 inches) and finally see what my curls looked like.

I was VERY surprised to see all the little curls, coils, and curly-Qs that framed my face like some sort of afro-angelic halo!

I have to say I love my curls. And my Sicilian loves them too...little does my family know, he prefers dark, curly hair...finds it mysterious and seductive.

Just last night I said playfully asked my husband:

"What if I said, I'm thinking of straightening my hair?"

Sicilian: "I'd say no, you are forbidden."

(Artistic Rendering of my Husband) ... (the Godfather by Paramount Pictures)

Me: "Why? ((pause)) But why?"

Sicilian: "Your hair looks healthier, naturally silky, and free. I like it"

Me: ((slow seductive smile and ready to take my Sicilian home and show him what comes of such sweet talk))--instead I give him a wink and finish our very delish, very expensive anniversary dinner <3

My family however, has said that my husband is just "humoring me, because he doesn't want to hurt my feelings..."

Yet it's THEIR sentiments that are hurtful! The fact that my FAMILY thinks my god-given hair is "wrong" and should be bound and tamed, just because it's different than theirs is hurtful... and can we say "Internalized racism" much? or is it something else????

I know my family is against my new found curly tresses, preferring the straight swishy hair I've had for so long. But Why? Maybe they want to proclaim our mixed heritage, maybe they want to say, through hair: we're just as good! we can have swishy hair too!

Or maybe through the years they've been brainwashed to think that curly hair is bad, unruly, too seductive, too ethnic, too voluminous....

To all the above I say: Pish Posh!

I love my curly hair! I'm tired of "fitting in"! And I see lots of Black women with tortured hair that's stiff, greasy, horrible looking, and just basically un-natural. And I think their hair would look so much better if it were set free! I begin to think how glorious Black Women would look with their natural hair, how majestic and seductive. (yes, seductive is one of my favorite words)

I think Black hair, is so very unique and versatile. And so many of us curly heads (white, black, korean, hispanic, whoever) are afraid to embrace it. You can do it! Your hair is beautiful and so are you!

Love, Imogen <3