ask – Black Mormon Female

Sir Mix-A-Lot.

Cover of "The Legend of Bagger Vance" — Cover of The Legend of Bagger Vance

I used to love this blog in college, but heres the post I want to talk about today. Its an oldie but a goodie. Maybe the most difficult thing for Mormons, and Im sure other people too, is to figure out how to talk to black people. I mentioned in an earlier post, when I first got to Utah, people liked to tell me stories about random Black people they knew. Babies and children of all sorts stare at me when I go to Costco – Ive seen them crane their heads around their parents to get a better look. Them I dont mind, its not their fault they have never seen someone of a darker hue before. But lets just say, I no longer go to Walmart in some parts of the world, because its just much too much uncomfortable.

I am often the only Black person at the events I attend, and Ive experienced the annoyingly eye-rolling to the jaw-droppingly racist, so let me give you the primer on what I do and do not like, and you can see if it generalizes to anyone else. 1) I hate being ignored. In one class I was in a girl from Arizona said she just didnt address directly differences of her friends, because she was scared of offending them. My response to her was, if we are actually friends, then let me teach you how to treat me. Its no different than anything else you have to learn about me – where I like to eat, what movies I will go see, and oh yeah how I talk and feel about this huge piece of what the world defines me as. I dont want people to be color-blind, because then it feels like you are pretending Im just like you, and Im not. I would like to be able to talk about those things that are different from you, whether its how much lotion I put on (a ton) or how often I wash my hair (not a ton), without feeling awkward about it. So maybe you dont know what to say: well I promise to be forgiving, if you promise to make an effort.

Numero dos: Wait until I say something racist first, and then laugh, because I eventually will, and it will be funny. Like when my friend makes a comment about their being only one white free safety left (whatever that is), it works, but if I say it then we’d all be awkward. Its probably true, but its mean. Its bad if you say something racist first, then I have to decide if Im going to be the bigger person, and I honestly will probably not talk to you again. But when I say it first, like when I told my best friend that I was his magical negro (see Will Smith in Bagger Vance and Morgan Freeman in everything), well then its funny, because its true. Then you can laugh at me while I eat fried chicken, but not before.

Three: I have no idea. Lets pretend this is like the Dave Chappell Show and you can ask a black girl. This could be fun. It will be an ongoing thing. Put your questions in the comments section and Ill get back to you.

Anxiety (Photo credit: Rima Xaros)

90s Angry Girl turned into Ryan Reynolds ex-girlfriend and recent Canadian Hall of Famer: Alanis Morissette.

So for the last two nights, I keep waking up freaking out about this blog. I am prone to perfectionistic tendencies, which is the major reason why I never wanted to write about things so personal and important to me before. No one is going to care what I write about the lastest crappy ensemble movie to hit theaters or John Mayer’s lastest album, but comment on racial, gender and religious issues and the writer comes into question. And I, am not perfect, especially not compared to the Mormon perfection standard. I dont feel a listing of my personal sins is necessary, lets just say Ive fallen off the wagon in minor and major ways. I think what makes me Mormon despite those mistakes is that I usually try to get back on and that I show others the same forgiveness I try to show myself.

I spent a good portion of my life living by shoulds, because I was scared to death no one would love me if I didnt follow all of their rules. By no one, I literally mean no one. No friends, no family, nada. The thing is people have so many rules. My mother wanted straight A’s, my PE teacher for me to run that stupid mile each week faster, my friends to stop studying and play, my teachers to work harder on their assignments, my volleyball coach to come to practice during finals week, and blah blah blah. I spent so much time trying to figure out what I should do, that I literally had no idea what I wanted to do. Even those few times back then when I knew what I wanted to do – like go to school in NYC rather than a suburban college town, I felt God wanting me to do the latter, and I should follow him, right? Well as far as I can tell, God is the only person on that list who I should (hah!) consider when I make choices and even then, Im still a bit bitter (damn you Utah!).

Ive been slowly teaching myself to acknowledge my own wants. If Im exhausted and want to go home, but am worried about keeping my friend if I go home instead of go out with them, well I try to come up with a compromise that doesnt compromise me. Im trying to state my preferences more, which has resulted in quite a few people calling me a bitch, but the truth is I havent lost anyone yet. Now Im practicing asking for things that I wouldve been scared to rock the boat on before – like the emergency exit row on the plane. Guess what happens? Im polite, no one cares, and so far Ive always gotten get the seat!

This blog is me making another conscious effort to be whole. In the words of C.S. Lewis,

“If all experienced God in the same way and returned Him an identical worship, the song of the Church triumphant would have no symphony, it would be played like an orchestra in which all instruments played the same note.”

Im not as interested any more in behaving like a Middle C, when I am clearly like an A Sharp. Ive made enough decisions thinking about just me and God’s opinions that have been considered really random by all outside observers, and yet turned out truly awesome for me, so I can take the hit. But yes, Im afraid that someone will stumble upon this and say, but she doesnt go to church regularly, or she cant get anyone to marry her, or some variation of, “But did you hear about that thing she did that one time?” and make me feel small and awful for trying to stand. And worse yet, that those of you who are reading this with the growing inclination to find or support your own note will think, “The price she paid was much too high to take that risk.” I am choosing to believe I can handle a few sleepless nights. What will you choose?

Tag: ask

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“If all experienced God in the same way and returned Him an identical worship, the song of the Church triumphant would have no symphony, it would be played like an orchestra in which all instruments played the same note.”