First Day....indeed. (of those heavy duty classes...and typical first day luck)

So I just fell off my longboard and scratched my knee cause I hit a particularly large crack in the sidewalk.
Really, you'd think with the $15 million dollar grant my school just got they'd have a little spare change and a little common sense to tackle the small things like, oh. Maybe have a smooth,even surface for walking on? Or skating on?

Nah.

They're building more dorms, so they can get even more money.

Blah.

Anyway, my longboard went back in the opposite direction (laws of physics there...how ironic. I just got out of physics lecture) and a guy was kind enough to kick it back to me. =)
Then when I got up and dusted off my dignity another guy from across the ...what do you call it? It's sort of a courtyard...called out to me and asked whether I was okay.

I was. . .I am. I said as much, and he was satisfied. That was kind of him....but utterly embarassing for me. >_<

So then after taking a detour through the Student Activities Center (We call it the SAC for short..like, "sack") so that no one would see me try to ride the instrument of doom any farther, I came out on the opposite side of the SAC and headed for the library, all the while thinking that for the rest of the summer I'm not going to wear my hair in the gigantic, unrestrained afro that it's in today....because everyone would be sure to recognize me for it and go "hey, that's that tall girl who fell off her longboard the other day...gee, she should learn to ride."

All these thoughts were swirling in my mind, and threatening to shrink me down to the size of a garden gnome in mortification. If only that were possible....

Anyway, as I was crossing the Academic Mall to get to the library (where I could wallow in shame and tend to my scraped knee), a white girl in a long, flowing maxi dress walked by me, looked me directly in the eyes, and with a huge smile on her face, said "I LOVE your hair!"

(Inner squealing time)
I grinned, of course, and thanked her sincerely....but I am in just...wow. Like, wow. Utter amazement.

She wasn't some geeky, outcast sci-fi nerd member of society....this girl looked like she had stepped off the cover of some magazine...HER hair reached halfway down her back and was in medium sized natural ringlets...but of course, like most Caucasian hair....not poofy.

Why is this such a big deal to me, you  might ask?

Because. That's the first EVER affirmation/compliment I have EVER received from a white (or Caucasian, to be politically correct) person about my hair in its natural state. Except for my mother, but she doesn't count. She's supposed to say things like that.

Talk about a boost of self-esteem? I don't know, I've been having a sort of identity crisis lately...up until only two semesters ago I was utterly bewitched by the conformist media nonsense that led me to believe that everyone ought to have long, flowing hair...and that gigantic poofy afros were unkempt and untidy.

Un-beautiful.

But lately I've begun to embrace my  poofiness, but still, it's bothered me whether I would be accepted this way by the white half of my blood. Like if I were to move to Norway, which I want to do.
Sure, I've gotten a lot of compliments for my hair, but it's mainly been from...well...ONLY been from blacks.

I go to a mostly Indian church (Guyanese indian), and a lot of the people there have teased me about my hair or told me I need to do something to tame it.

I fell for it for several years.
Need I mention I eventually rebelled and wore it as big as I could just to rub it in their faces?

But still, it's a big deal to me, anyway, to have had my hair validated by someone other than my mother....and of her race.

It shouldn't matter, I know, but the world is the way it is. We have racial stereotypes and problems, and growing up in a society completely affected by that, as a biracial individual at that....how should I not care?

Maybe one day I will learn.

But for now........I feel special.

~Cahryn K.