As an individual that is exactly that, an individual, I have a very strong opinion about identity. My generation is known, and I believe will forever be known, as the generation without a solid identity. I guess you could say we’re in the midst of an identity crisis. To be honest I can’t really place too much blame on us. We’ve been plunged head first into a culture where you are what you look like, sound like and believe. We are taught, no matter what anyone says, to judge by appearance and status. You can’t tell me (if you live in North America) that when you walk by a 6 foot 2 inch tall black youth, with his pants sagging down to his knees, wearing a giant black hoodie that obscures most of his face that you get all warm and fuzzy inside. I don’t. Which is sad, because I am a 6 foot 2 inch black youth. I wear pants that are pretty baggy sometimes (though they stay up by my waist). I have a black leather jacket, with a hood that hides my face if I want it too. Each day I wake up knowing that some one who doesn’t know me, and will never know me, believes deep in their heart that I am nothing but another street thug.
On the other hand, I am commonly refered to by a large amount of friends and acquaintances as “White Washed” . I cannot express the amount of hatred I have for that term. Sorry, hatred isn’t the right word. It isn’t strong enough.
I LOATHE being called white-washed.
Here’s why: People have this strange misconception that because I am black I should be the following things…
- Obnoxious
- Ghetto
- Uneducated
- Rude
- Violent
- Athlete
- Rapper
- Thug
Need I say more? You know the stereo types. You’ve heard the ‘black jokes’. I, and anyone like me, are expected to have the vocabulary of a six-year-old and have 6 kids by different women. It makes me furious because I am rejected as a black individual when I do not fit the mold or do things outside of it. Yes, I do match some of the criteria on the never-ending list. However there are certain things that people perceive to make me the awful term I won’t repeat.
I …
- Am a lover of rock music
- Have an extensive vocabulary
- Am pretty polite
- Am aggressive but not outwardly violent
- Hate the thug life
- Don’t like the idea of being a player
- Can’t jerk or dougy
- Prefer normal english over slang
I often wonder who decided what would define the attitude of races around the world. I would like to meet them and, if I could sit them down and make them cry from a verbal lashing. They have destroyed lives, put a halt to immeasurable potential, and separated people from those they love most. Anyone who continues this tradition, no matter their race, is guilty of the same crimes. We are all, at some point, guilty of one of these.
So why my rant? I wanted to pose a question. A powerful question. One that will shape the rest of your life. It is written on the hearts of every human being, though we often fail to read what is etched into our souls. My question is this…
Where do you find your identity?
What makes you, you? Is it your skin colour? Your job? Your income? Your friends? Your grades? Your residence? Your tech? Your family? The words of others? All of these things will become irrelevant at some point in time. We all know it even if we won’t admit it.
I will not be defined as “White-Washed” because there is no such thing. I am black because of my skin colour. Even then, my skin colour only matters to me because I don’t get sun-burn easily. Want to know where I find my identity? In Eternity. In Love. In Faith.
In Jesus.
In Him all else that I am has new meaning, and around Him all takes new form and incredible purpose. Maybe I’m crazy… but when I sit down and touch my pen to a piece of paper I know that there is weight beyond comprehension as I bleed my soul into the paper. And whether I utter His name or not, there is power in my writing.
Authentically Individual,
Joshua Watkis
aka
The Scribe
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