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Momma got serious.
“I told you it because it was true. You can’t afford to pretend like things are the same for you as they are for other people. The world is too dangerous for that, especially in a state like Tennessee.”
“Momma, what are you talking about? My whole life, the only racism I’ve experienced has been because I’ve gone looking for it.”
“So now you’re telling me that racism doesn’t exist? With your many years of experience, you’re tryin’ tell your Momma what you think you know?”
“I’m not trying to do anything. I’m telling you what my experience has been. And I’m not saying that there aren’t people out there trying to keep us down so they can stay on top. I’m not even saying that people won’t say stupid things. They will. I’ve experienced that.”
“Then, what are you saying?”
“I’m saying that we see what we are taught to look for. That’s all.”
“So, I guess you’re telling me that the way I raised you is wrong? Is that it?”
I thought about that.
“I don’t know what wrong is, Momma. I just know that the way you raised me had consequences. And now my life is one big consequence I can’t get past.”
“Is this about that blonde boy who was at our house?”
“His name is Merri, Momma,” I said sadly.
“Then, is this about Merri?”
“Yeah. Because I think I love him. And I keep running from him, and the only thought that keeps going through my head when I do is, ‘What would Momma say about me being with him?’”
“You know that I don’t have a problem with you being bisexual. I wouldn’t care if you were gay.”
“I know. But what would that say to white people about our race? Am I just another black man seeking validation by being with someone white? And if that’s true, how many more stereotypes am I?”
“Claude, my son is not a stereotype,” she protested.
“Really, Momma? I’m a black man who’s good at sports and only has sex with white people. How much more of a stereotype could I be?”
“Son, that’s not all of who you are. You’re smart and thoughtful. I would add funny, but we both know how funny black people can be,” she joked.
I couldn’t help but huff a laugh.
“I’m serious, Momma.”
“I know, Claude. So am I. And you might be right. I may have made a mistake saying that to you at such a young age. It was what my father said to me, and you growing up without a father…”
“Another stereotype,” I said, cutting her off.
“…growing up without a father, I felt I had to say it to you.”
“Well, I heard it. I shaped my life around it.”
“That was not the purpose of me telling you.”
“Wasn’t it, though? Wasn’t it to get me to act like a kid everyone would be proud of?”
“But it wasn’t meant to be at the expense of your happiness,” she said sadly.
Pulling onto our driveway, she turned off the car.
“If what I said has made you feel like you have had to live up to unrealistic expectations, then I’m sorry. I’m sorry, son. But don’t let it stop you from doing what makes you happy. If Merri makes you happy, be with him.”
