My truth...............(yes we can)

"If you tell the truth you don't have to worry about remembering anything"

(paraphrasing Cousin Jen 2006)


"It is what it is"

(Greg Blackshear, 2008)


As I type this Obama is accepting the democratic nomination for President of the United States. I will always remember this moment because my memory is hella good. I remember.

I remember standing outside my great aunts house in Pittsburgh Pa in the snow. I was not allowed in her house at that point because I was black. I remember my adopted mother standing out in the snow with me while my white brother and sister and my white father got to meet my new baby cousin, but not me. I was adopted, and i was black. I was four.

I remember my grandparents on my adopted fathers side of the family not talking to me for years. They were never mean or outright hostile, they just sort of ignored me. If they gave my siblings 50 dollars at Christmas they gave me 10. They told my parents that if they adopted me they would not be welcome in their home any longer. Not because I was a bad kid.Because I was black.

I remember my friends in High school. They were all white. Out of about 1,000 students there were maybe 4 black kids. Some of my friends would slip up and say nigger in front of me. When they realized their mistake they would say things like "Oh Greg we don't think of you as black" I was a pretty popular kid in school. I was smart and funny and creative and talented, sensitive and (I have been told) sweet. I'm not saying that those qualities didn't mean anything to some of my relatives and friends and neighbors, I'm just saying that the most important aspect of my being to them, was that I was black. I'm not saying I lived in the most racist situation ever, or that I was taunted daily. What I'm saying is it was, for as long as I can remember, very very important for these people to let me know that I was different, not quite a part of things, not accepted completely. They needed to let me know I was different, that I was black.

I remember everything. thank God I remember the good things.

I remember my adopted parents never treating me any differently than my siblings. I remember them telling me the color of my skin didn't matter, that i could become whatever I desired. I remember my moms sister and my Grandma french and my cousin Jen making me feel loved and welcome and secure when I visited them. We always visited that side of the family first at Christmas. The first part was always my favorite part of the holiday. I remember that love. It made me realize that not all white people are racist or even ignorant of my situation. It kept me from becoming bitter, it showed me that ....yes we can. Yes I am just as important, and intelligent, and worthy of love as my white siblings. It gave me hope and pride in my life at a time when so many others were telling me that I was defined by the color of my skin. That to them the most important quality I possessed was pigmentation.

So here it is 2008 and I'm watching this black man speak.I never really thought a black man would be this close to the white house in my lifetime. My life had taught me that the color of his skin DID matter, it mattered more than anything else. That was my truth.

I'm inspired. I had no outline for a blog tonight or real plan of writing one, i just sat down and started typing from the heart.

Crazy huh? Writing things like this, talking about stuff like this can be uncomfortable. There are wonderful white folks in my life that I truly care about who don't have a racist bone in their body. At the same time there are important white people in my life, who i truly care about, who happen to be a bit racist. That's a tricky thing to deal with so I decided to simply...Tell My truth. because if you tell the truth you don't have to worry about remembering anything.It is what it is.