My Black Thoughts

It’s no secret: it’s hard to walk in a black man’s shoes. So hard sometimes that being black is like carrying a heavy load. The melanin excess can be such a burden, likely to waste a whole life.

The colored suffers. Not physically anymore (long gone are the days of slavery), but morally, As if sustaining all kinds of pressures from his family, his entourage, whites and women wasn’t enough, he also suffers from prejudice that runs deep in our society. And frankly I’ve had enough of the unfair stereotypes that stick to us like white on rice.

I am black and, no matter what I do, I represent my race. A good grade in math is a triumph for my people. It proves to others that we can excel at something besides music and athletics. The message that comes across is: blacks also use grey matter. A bad grade however confirms the popular belief according to which blacks are seemingly less intelligent than whites.

It is also believed that we have larger penises. You can therefore imagine how anguished the exception to such a rule must feel. Especially if his case involves a white woman.

After all, if she chose him, it wasn’t for his beautiful eyes. It is thanks to advertorial aphorisms such as "the blacker the berry, the sweeter the juice" or "once you go black, you never go back."

A brother gotta represent between the sheets or else the myth collapses. This situation is extremely regrettable because some of us are already content with the thought that their only might hangs between their legs.

A brother gotta represent in the club because blacks are born with rhythm. His (white) colleagues had rather forgo the dance floor to cheer him from the bar and observe him watch his groove on. A brother better know how to get jiggy with it because every misstep chips their esteem away.

And a brother won\'t get a break from his own. Have you ever wondered why there are so few of us swimming or skating? Why are there so few of us bungee jumping or skiing? Is it because we do not like it? I don’t think so. I believe more of us would like to do it, but our community doesn’t encourage it.

In the black community, defiance is not welcomed. One must be conformist if he/she doesn’t want to be labeled. You’re "gay" if you got skintight clothes on and refuse to adopt the baggy jeans. If you shun hip-hop music for classical selections, then you’re "bounty" - the term refers to the famous chocolate bar with coconut cream filling. No one wants to be an outcast. So, like sheep, we blend with the herd because we want to be accepted.

When I hear statements like, "black people are good at basketball, they are better than white people", it aggravates me because it implies that melanin is like a doping product; my pigmentation is an undeniable advantage. It implies that if I wasn’t black, then I would not be that good. The numerous hours of training I’ve had to develop my game don’t matter. It is frankly frustrating to hear such bullshit. If I am good at basketball, or anything else for that matter, it is because I worked hard at it, not because I am black.