When I Write

Article by Ava Fredericks

I was sitting in class the other day; it’s a political science class when one of the students, a young white woman, said: “Yeah, people called me a racist because I did not vote for Obama.” A white guy responded, “Yes, I was called racist too.” I did not want to be inappropriate at the time since this was a class not a debate. A true intellectual knows when to speak and when not to speak. However, had it been another time, or another place, I would have asked, “have you ever been called a monkey?  Yes, a monkey, the primate ape, monkey that picks bugs out of its young’s hair.

It’s odd to me how, blacks have been called monkeys over the decades, numerous times, but monkeys, actually have pale skin, covered in brown hair. Tidbit of information for Sean Delonas: I have never understood the comparison to a monkey although I have never compared any human being to an animal no matter how much I disagree with their culture, religious beliefs or political views. Although I believe that the one calling me a monkey could careless about my political views.

“Have you ever been called African American ?”

“How about European American, no?”

Not necessarily because you are considered American. It’s funny how I am not. I always have the subtitle of being dark first. I am not an immigrant, my seed was brought to this country possibly before the majority of European Americans that now reside here. I heard Jim Acosta [correspondent for CNN], who missed his calling on working for FOX News, say while interviewing people in the crowd on the mall of the Lincoln Memorial during the Inauguration Ceremony, (he is not tenured enough to be a correspondent  from the stands),  he says “LOOK AT ALL THE AFRICAN AMERICAN FACES” ! My God, that struck a cord within me!

There are so many things wrong with that statement but if I had to
narrow it down, it would be three things…

1 – LOOK AT … Look at them, lets not listen to them, their stories,
their journeys, just look at them, let us be entertained by them.

2 – ALL THE AFRICAN AMERICAN’s … Not Americans, African Americans, they are not worthy of being full citizens of the country they help BUILD, the bricks they laid, and after the building was finished, not allowed to walk into for a hundred years later. Why do I never hear the term, European American? Does that word exist?

3 – FACES – Yes thank you RICK WARREN for that beautiful prayer- Yes, God knows he’s an AFRICAN AMERICAN, apparently someone just told you and you cannot hide the SHOCK ! Its a spectacle, I believe that W.E.B. DuBois is turning over in his grave to see the way the “African Americans” are being looked upon. As they dance and sing their African American way to any wealth they have in life.

When so many “African Americans” were asked did they ever believe they would see this day. My response would have been different from the yes or no answer most people provided. I would added that Yes, I always believed that this day would come. However, I never thought that it would come at a time where African Americans are still considered African American. We literally have a colored president. Why don’t these people just say the First Colored President or the First Negro President. Honestly it sounds just the same, for me. Personally, I thought that years from now that there would be a difference in how blacks are perceived. I believed it to be like a Utopian society where races would be so heavily mixed, individuality would be free from stereotypes and the total idea of classifying someone’s accomplishments.

How I yearn, as an American, to see that day. The day when I am finally American, will I live to see That Day? Will Barack Obama live to see that day?

I went to England on a choir tour, my first time in Europe, I was 19 years old, and I remember hanging out at a pub, somewhere in Manchester, and having someone ask me, “oh, so you are AMERICAN right?” For a brief moment, all the pride that an American has to offer swelled up inside of me. The pride my grandfathers took into WWII, Korea and my uncles took to Vietnam. The same Pride my mother took when she integrated the schools of Mississippi on that first day, the same Pride my Grandmother took, when she voted for the first time.

With all of that Pride, I said “Yes, I am American!” It probably sounded over pronounced, but I didn’t care. I finally realized I had a nationality, and I wasn’t a sub nationality, I WAS AN AMERICAN .

I am American.