The Difference

When you come to the house make sure you come alone. My grandmother always told me.
Tell your friends your granny doesn't like company. Her hands on her hips.
When you walk up the block don't run. At this point her finger would be pointed directly in my
face.
Why? I would always ask within in my own head. Why?
I can recall one day when I was ten me and grandma were sitting on the couch watching Mama
Mia. I looked at her and asked, Whats the difference between you and me?
I remember the look on her face as she slowly reached towards the remote and pressed the
pause button, only to turn her body to face me. Crossing her legs she finally responded in her
usual raspy voice and said, Im a white Hersey bar and your milk chocolate. After her one
sentence response she pressed resume.
Every time Paga drops me off to school the girls ask me why I look different from him. I go on
to say.
Focused on the Tv screen she said, tell them there is no difference.
But her words didn't seem to satisfy me.
But there is. The white chocolate girls run up the block, I dont.
Because you cant. She said.
If you and Paga are white chocolate bars how did dad come out to be brown? I asked.
That was the day I discovered that my father was adopted.

As I grew older, each and everyday I walked up my grandmas block I sped up, by the time I was
in my first year of high school I was skipping. The neighbors in grandmas neighborhood soon
realized that I was not a threat, I was a regular. As time progressed the neighbors began to let
me have relationships with their children. Every once in a while a little white girl would come and
ring my grandmas bell in hopes that I was home. These were the only people my grandma didn't
mind coming in. It wasn't that Grandma was racist, it was that she wanted to keep her house.

One hot summer day when I was sitting on my grandmas stoop a light girl named Trinity
approached me. She started skipping way before me, in fact there wasn't a day I could recall
her not skipping. Hey Ny, she said, Wanna braid my hair? I looked up at her and than at her
hair. She stared, her eyes crystal blue, she starred so hard you could almost see through them.
Wide eyed she awaited a response. Well? she asked.
Sure, I said making way for her. Just sit.
As I parted her light weighted hair she began to talk to me.
How ya like Parkslope? She asked. I take it that you live with your gram now.
Its iight, I said shrugging. Not the same as Bedstuy but I'm dealin.
Whats the difference? she asked, turning around. I moved her face back to the way it was so I
could continue the braid.
I had friends, I went on to say. I could run up my block, and I was with my momma. Im only
here till my block clears up though, too much crime going on. Momma said she thought staying
here for a while would do me some good. Just until the block cools down. But it seems like
the block has been hot for years now.
I finished her braid. I tapped her shoulder to signal her to get up. Done. I said.
Whats the Stuy like? she asked now standing. I heard the people were darker than you!
I frowned. Slightly disturbed by what she said, I rose to my feet, I began to walk back into the
house. Why does the color matter? I asked backing up. No matter what color chocolate you
get they all taste the same! My voice loudened. The people in the Stuy are humans. Just like
people in the slope.
Trinity began to slowly back up as my voice got even louder.
Furious.
Stop watching so much tv Trin! I went on yelling. I slammed the door behind me.
Grandma was waiting inside. Im proud of you. she said and disappeared into the kitchen.
Later that week a block meeting was announced, Grandma wasn't invited.

It seemed to be that the world portrayed the black person as a furious person. The world made
us look so angry. The world made us look so different, when in reality we were all the same. As I
got older I began to realize that growing up into a mixed family was a blessing in disguise. With
both my parents black and one adopted, I was able to see both sides of the fence unlike many
people my color. For many it was hard to not be angry at the media or the people with white
wrappers. But for me I didn't show anger towards anyone. I knew the way the world was, it
wasn't okay and I hoped that sooner or later times would change.
By the time I was an adult times did change.
A tad.
Media still portrayed us the same, but the amount of racism that was verbally expressed was
more in the shadows. Feelings towards other races were still expressed but just not as often.
I can recall one day I had got written up at my job for wearing my hair out. An anonymous co
worker complained that my fro was too distracting. I remembered being sent home, my boss
told me to consider a perm. I looked at her and said so I can look the way the rest of the world
want me to look?
She fired me.
Now I work in a Women Rights organization.
As time flew by I began to realize that racism didn't only revolve around color. Being black was
the least of the worlds problems.
It took time for me to realize that just being the person you were born as was an issue to
society, no matter what part of the world you lived in it seemed as though you were never
enough.
Sometimes after a long day of work I would lay back on my couch and laugh, because my
realization and views on the rest of world started with a simple question I asked my grandma
when I was ten.
Whats the difference?
For years I grew up under the impression that being of color was the only issue in this world but
I came to realize that racism was just a generalization.

When I turned 36 I started a project that my job assisted me in launching, it was called The
Difference. It was a project I started that grew immediately after I visited multiple elementary
schools. The goal of this project was to install the idea of equality into many minds. I started with
the young ones because I knew the future rested in their hands. My project later became an
organization that was in partnership with the Womens Rights Department and LGBT
Department. Soon we became a whole.
Whenever I made speeches the idea wasn't initially to hate and shed light on those who did me
wrong in the past but to thank them for expanding my knowledge.
Later down the line Trinity found a way to contact me and we became very good friends.
I can recall the day we had lunch together at a Starbucks in Manhattan. The lady was trying to
explain that the lighter cappuccino was was less bland than the darker one. I remember Trinity
and I eyeballing each other.
Whats the difference!? We asked laughing loudly.
Of course the cashier didn't dig our corny inside joke because the line looped around the block,
but me and Trin surly did understand it.