Adventures of Nefertiti

All my life, I’ve been categorized as a minority and many times I’ve been asked to speak up on the behalf of all other minorities. Growing up, I was one of three Black girls at St. Mary’s Catholic School, where in the fourth grade the teacher singled me out when Michael Jackson’s hair caught on fire, to ask me to explain to the kids in the class, why Black people put grease in their hair. In high school, I remember accepting a ride from a co-worker, who before she dropped me off at home one evening after work, had fifty million and one questions regarding why Blacks do this and why Blacks do that, and if we get tanned by the sun or blush when embarrassed (to my dismay, my medium brown cheeks turn red all the time when I encounter a guy that I find attractive, more so now in my late thirties than ever before). In my current office environment, my office mate has bombarded me over and over with questions regarding the N-word and the hypocrisy of it. In addition, during our first year wor...

Keela, Chinyere, Anaya, Deja, and Dezi Last week after a lengthy conversion on the phone with my mother, my mother asked me if I could say something to my niece Chinyere, because she had something to tell me. So I said ok and waited for my six year old “look alike” to grab the phone. “Aunt Teetee,” she began sweetly. “Yes, Chinyere.” I answered. “Aunt Teetee, I was talking to ValChosen and he said you a boy.” ValChosen is my three and a half year old nephew, and also Chinyere’s younger brother. “Really!” I said with surprise, “And what did you say?” “I said, that first of all, you’re Human, and second of all, you’re a girl.” She sounded so proud of herself. “Well, thank you Chinyere, that was really nice of you.” I was really tickled here. A little later Chinyere handed the phone back to my Mom. After I hung up from my Mother, I could not stop thinking about the brief conversation I had with my niece and how much she reminded me of me. About five years ago, I remember reading about the...