Before the only month we celebrate black history is over

CORRECTION: The title of this video was incorrect in the original post.

I thought I’d share this video Snob reader by Will Drinker. He produced a short film called “Color Me Blind.” Watching it brought back some not-so-fond, but now funny in hindsight, memories of being asked to sing Ol’ Negro Spirituals to my befuddled white peers and a somewhat numbing experience of helping my mother give a historical presentation to my eighth grade history class about the Buffalo Soldiers and my great uncle, a staunch military man, who was one.

Then came the day, unbeknown to me, I was unofficially anointed the spokesperson for all black people. This was little alarming considering the black kids at our junior high did not think I was “street” enough to have come from my peaceful, mostly black suburb. They wanted to hear more stories about fights, drug deals and drive-bys. Never mind that it was peaceful and looked like any other sleepy county suburb built in the late 60s and 70s. It was the “hood” because it was 90 percent black. Who cares if all the blacks are middle class with either professional jobs, good union jobs or owned their own business. There had to be violent, gang initiating thugs amongst all those Teachers and preachers kids that ran my block.

Ludicrous, I say.

That said, I dedicate to this clip all my bougies trying to hold it down as the only black person where ever they may reside, work or recreate. Stay strong my fellow Whitley Gliberts, Carlton Banks, William Dents and Joan Claytons. To quote fair Bubba Clinton, I know your pain.

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