The N Word
Growing up in SC schools, I received my fair share of insults in which the best my opponent could come up with was the infamous N word. Admittedly, the first time a white classmate of mine called me the N word, I didn't know what it meant so I obviously wasn't offended. The next few times, however, whoa buddy. I think my head might have started spinning and steam probably rose from ears. That might have been the quickest way to ruffle my feathers in grade school. At some point in high school, I realized the obvious: it's just a word. What makes calling me the N word any worse than calling me an idiot or ugly or whatever insult have you? Why did I get upset if someone called me the N word, but I was completely unfazed by other name calling? It was simply because I was giving that word power. When a person chooses to call me the N word, it doesn't do a thing to me. All it does is show that they're filled with hate... Suddenly the question became, why should I care what you call me?
Assumed Stupidity
For some reason people often assume that I'm of below average intelligence (or maybe it's "smart" people assuming I'm of average intelligence...). I don't know if it's the way I carry myself, or a product of my appearance, but it used to drive me up the wall. It wasn't until I was much older that I realized, this too is a reflection of the person, not of me. When people don't understand things, they get frustrated. Different people respond to frustration differently, and one of those responses is to become indignant. Often in these situations, we see ourselves as right and the other person as wrong (simply because we have no clue what the other person is talking about). Thus, our demeanor may say "you idiot, this is the right way!" I probably give this same vibe off to others often without knowing that I'm doing so, especially since I tend to be on a different page than the masses... At the end of the day, that doesn't change what I know, or any of my opportunities in the future. So, why should miscommunication bother me? I learned to take a step back, re-evaluate, and re-explain.Borderline-Racist Comments
I'll never forget the moment I thought I was going to choke a girl in my high school. We were "friends" and having a "friendly" conversation about her first trip to Atlanta. She gets to the point in the story where she and her family took the subway and remarks "We were the only white people there. I was so scared!" -_- Off the bat, I'm angry because she clearly thinks that something is wrong with non-whites, that we're all gang bangers or something. Then I'm angry because she clearly thinks that out of all the other people in the subway, these "hood"/"gang-banger" non-whites are going to ignore each other and focus their attention on the white family (because white people are always the center of attention, right?). And then I go over the edge, that she had the balls to say this in front of me--was she that bold that she didn't care? She forgot I wasn't white? She thought I was an Uncle Tom and wouldn't care? Oh man was I contemplating strangling this girl on the spot; it might have been worse than calling me the N word. And then it dawned on me. I spent my whole life in predominately white schools, in predominately white classes, and I hated almost every minute of it. It was awkward learning about slavery from a white teacher in a class full of white kids, especially in the south. It was awkward being the only person in the class who didn't watch whatever they were talking about or listen to the radio station they were talking about. It was awkward that I was expected to answer for all the black people and was asked questions like "why can't black people swim?" or "ask her, she's black obviously she listens to 2pac." Quite frankly, the only reason I'm not weirded out when I walk into a room full of white people is because I've been conditioned to that setting and I've become desensitized to the situation. So why should I be mad at her lack of conditioning?Being Told I Look Young
and That I'll Love It When I'm Older
People are forever telling me that I look about 12, even though I'm only a few weeks shy of 25. They all (and I mean every single one of them) make sure to "inform" me that I'll "be thankful when I'm old and still look young." Yes, yes I know that. If I didn't know it the first time someone said it, I certainly do now, a bazillion comments later. What really made me mad was that they assumed I didn't like looking young. Quite frankly it didn't bother me until I graduated from undergrad. Who doesn't want to be able to get the child's discount at a restaurant or movie and be able to show proper ID to enter the bar? Of course once I graduated school, it became awkward that all the guys I meet think I'm a 15 year old child so the chances of a guy my own age asking me out is fairly slim... Such is life: there are pros an cons to everything. It use to infuriate me that people couldn't see that and that they were making assumptions about me. But the fact of the matter is, people will be people. That's what they do: assume and talk to hear themselves talk. There's no use in losing sleep over something so insignificant.
Next time you find yourself angry, breathe, and think about it a while. Is it really that serious? Are they harming you physically? Will their comment stop you from doing what you want to do (ie a bank saying "I won't lend you money because...." vs. a regular person saying "I don't like you because...")? Sometimes it takes an effort to be happy, the start is cutting out the foolishness. Life is so much easier when you don't let every little things offended you.
