Jared Cole and Lucy Ryan
\nMay 14, 2018
\nUncle Tom\u2019s Cabin and its Responses
\nProfessor Chakkalakal<\/p>\n
White-Washed<\/strong><\/p>\n Preface<\/em><\/strong><\/p>\n White-Washed <\/em>is a contemporary response to The Third Generation<\/em> by Chester Himes, published in 1954. Our story rewrites the relationship between Mrs. Taylor and Charles in a 2018 setting. We took the toxicity of Mrs. Taylor\u2019s racial inferiority complex, and the life-long, destructive inner conflict it spawned in her son, and recreated it in the more sympathetic character of Liz Walker. With Chris, we wanted to preserve the responsibility, love, guilt, anger, and empathy Charles felt toward his mother while giving Chris more agency, consciousness and ability to defend himself from her.<\/p>\n The primary message behind White-Washed <\/em>that we wanted to promote is one that can be found in The Third Generation<\/em> and is still relevant today. The world, and the United States especially, is only producing more and more mixed-race children, and for that reason it is becoming increasingly difficult not only for children to garner a sense of their racial identity, but also for parents to raise their children to embrace all aspects of who they are. The story of Liz and Chris is certainly a unique one, but it\u2019s one that could exist in today\u2019s world. It is important to acknowledge that and to understand that there are potential consequences for choosing to raise a child to only see one side of who they really are. Just like Mrs. Taylor fails to accept the black side of her children due to her outward prejudice, Liz fails to come to terms with Chris\u2019 blackness due to her insecurities as a mother. Both mothers hurt their children with their fears of racial difference, but Liz eventually reckons with the damage she\u2019s caused. Meanwhile, Chris, unlike Charles, ultimately discovers and explores his blackness for himself, and is able to garner a sense of racial identity. While Mrs. Taylor refuses to accept her children\u2019s blackness, Liz understands and admits to her wrongdoings in raising Chris as white, taking the necessary steps to love and accept him for who he truly is.<\/p>\n This story alternates between the perspectives of Liz and Chris. Lucy wrote the third-person narration of Liz, a white mother, and Jared wrote the first-person narration of Chris, a mixed-race adopted son. The process of writing White-Washed <\/em>was a collaborative one in that we both were most compelled by the complex mother-son dynamic in The Third Generation<\/em>, chose to respond to it by rewriting it in the present-day, and wrote the plot and scene-by-scene outline together. Writing simultaneous but disparate narratives to tell the story of this wrought mother-son relationship allowed us to channel our varying interpretations of and emotional responses to The Third Generation<\/em> through White-Washed<\/em>. The alternating perspectives of our story enabled us to exhume the internal dialogues of these two characters. This allowed us to fully explore the forms Mrs. Taylor and Chris would take in the present day.<\/p>\n <\/p>\n Chapter 1<\/strong><\/p>\n Glancing away from the road to gauge Chris\u2019 mood, and quickly back to the road, Liz, in the driver\u2019s seat, said flatly, \u201cI\u2019m sorry Grandma said that.\u201d She fixated on the car in front of them and waited for him to respond, even though she didn\u2019t want him to. She checked her mirrors and tapped them into place, then out of place, then into place. \u201cShe just shouldn\u2019t have made that comment.\u201d\u00a0 She merged into the left lane.<\/p>\n \u201cWhat comment?\u201d Chris didn\u2019t look up from his phone.<\/p>\n Liz stretched her lips into a thin line, then pursed them. \u201cWhen Grandma joked about being black.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cOh yeah,\u201d Chris looked up from his phone and started drumming it on the dashboard. \u201cWhat did she mean? Are Grandma and Grandpa actually black?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cUh, no, honey. It\u2019s not worth talking about if you\u2014\u2014nevermind.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cWhat? No, Mom, say it, come on,\u201d Chris put down his phone.<\/p>\n \u201cGrandma and Grandpa, and me, I guess, and you, you too, are white\u2014\u2014\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cI know!\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cAnd she was saying that you look so similar to us, but you\u2019re part black, that maybe we\u2019re part black too. That\u2019s all. That\u2019s all she was saying.\u201d Her eyes bore into the road.<\/p>\n Chris started drumming on the dashboard again. \u201cYou could be, how do you know you\u2019re not?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cThat\u2019s not really the point I was making, Chris.\u201d She merged back into the right lane. \u201cHoney, I just didn\u2019t like what Grandma was saying. Like you\u2019re different than the rest of your family. She wasn\u2019t thinking when she said that.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cBut that\u2019s not what Grandma was saying. She was saying that we\u2019re all black. That we\u2019re not <\/em>different.\u201d Chris plugged his phone into the car stereo. \u201cSong requests?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cOk, ok I shouldn\u2019t have brought it up,\u201d Liz mumbled.<\/p>\n \u201cYou always get mad at Grandma for something<\/em>. You\u2019re making a big deal out of nothing. Song requests?\u201d he asked again.<\/p>\n \u201cI shouldn\u2019t have brought it up,\u201d she said. Then she was quiet for a moment. \u201cPlay our favorite song.\u201d<\/p>\n Chris grinned. \u201cAlready queued.\u201d<\/p>\n <\/p>\n Chapter 2<\/strong><\/p>\n Like most half-days, today felt like a blur. After a week of full classes everyday, the Wednesday half-day always came as a welcome relief after a tumultuous Monday-Tuesday. With each class only thirty minutes long, it felt like as soon as I sat down I would have to get up again for my next class. First I had science class where we discussed the upcoming lab on dissecting dead frogs, followed by math where we learned about the Pythagorean Theorem. Considering I\u2019m not a math or science person, I simply stared at the clock all class, pretending to pay attention and look interested in the subject matter. Once the bell rang, I quickly gathered my things and headed to history class to hear the teacher talk about Napoleon Bonaparte I then headed to my last and best class, English, where we discussed the most recent chapter of John Steinbeck\u2019s Of Mice and Men<\/em>. While I was for the most part interested in the discussion we were having, my eyes were once again fixated on the clock. All I could think about was the day I was gonna spend with my best friend Sean after school. In all the years that I had known Sean I had never actually been to his house before, so I was more than excited to spend time with him outside of school. He had been hyping up his house all week too, proclaiming he had mountains of snacks, a new flat screen TV to play FIFA on, and a nearly full-sized goal to play soccer with. I was curious to see if his house would live up to the hype. Once class was dismissed I rushed out the classroom and met him in the lobby to ride with him on the bus back to his house.<\/p>\n I had known Sean for only a couple years, but he was one of the best friends I ever had. I had first met him from soccer because we played for the same club team, and we seemed to click instantaneously. We had undeniable chemistry on the field as I was an attacking midfielder and he was a striker, so it was typically the two of us who would provide the goals for our team. We also shared very similar humors, so we were always able to joke around with each other without offending one another. When we got to his house I was surprised to see that it was for the most part as-advertised. There was a big goal in the front yard which had tons of space for playing. I would say for the most part that his house was a bit larger than mine, and his front yard was absolutely massive. \u201cYou got a pretty big house bro,\u201d I told him coolly.<\/p>\n \u201cYeah? It gets the job done for the most part if I may say so myself. Everything I need and nothing I don\u2019t.\u201d<\/p>\n <\/p>\n With my eyes locked on the goal in his front yard I asked him, \u201cYou wanna kick the ball around for a little bit?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cI thought you\u2019d never ask.\u201d<\/p>\n We passed the ball around, progressively backing away from each other so that we would have to make longer passes. We then took turns taking shots on net for about an hour, and then we went inside to go play FIFA on his new TV. I\u2019m a Real Madrid fan and he\u2019s a Barcelona fan, so multiple games using those two teams was always inevitable. After I had whooped him three games in a row, he finally gave up and we decided to just relax and talk about high school. \u201cYou still planning to go to Johnson Academy?\u201d I asked solemnly.<\/p>\n \u201cYeah, that\u2019s the plan. I really wish you could go with me though.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cYeah same. It\u2019s alright. We\u2019ll still be able to talk and text. Plus you\u2019ll be back on the weekends, right?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cYeah, only on some weekends though. We\u2019ll definitely have to hang out a ton over the summer.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cYeah, definitely.\u201d Johnson Academy is a private boarding school about an hour away from where we lived. Though I had the grades to go to Johnson Academy, the plan was to send me to the nearby public regional school known as Green Lake High School since my mother couldn\u2019t afford the tuition,<\/p>\n While we talked we listened to his Spotify playlist which consisted of alternative rock bands like Smallpools, Coldplay, and We The Kings along with EDM artists like Alesso and DJ Snake. After we chatted about our high school plans we checked out his pantry which did indeed have mountains of snacks. It was as if his family was preparing for the apocalypse. \u201cDamn you got a lot of snacks,\u201d I said in disbelief.<\/p>\n \u201cYeah, I told you my pantry was stacked,\u201d he chuckled. Then we watched a couple of his favorite TV shows, Friends <\/em>and It\u2019s Always Sunny in Philadelphia<\/em>. Afterwards we watched one of his favorite films Stand by Me <\/em>while I waited for my mother to come pick me up, paying more attention to my phone than the actual movie.<\/p>\n \u00a0<\/strong><\/p>\n Chapter 3<\/strong><\/p>\n \u201cChris, grab the green beans and bring them to the table for me, would you?\u201d Liz turned the stove off and peered over her shoulder at her son. His body was hunched over a textbook and his notebook at the kitchen table.<\/p>\n \u201cChris, it\u2019s dinner time,\u201d she said. Chris hurredly scrawled something into his notebook.<\/p>\n \u201cPut the homework away so we can have a conversation like normal people. C\u2019mon, Chris.\u201d<\/p>\n Chris slowly closed the book and slid it onto the chair next to him. He stretched his arms and rolled his head in circles. \u201cWhy do you say my name so much? There\u2019s no one else<\/em> in this house you could possibly be talking to.\u201d<\/p>\n Liz stared at her son. Of course she knew there was no one else she could possibly be talking to. It\u2019s just one of her mannerisms, right? Just like how one of his was the sarcasm of an eighth grade boy.<\/p>\n She rolled her eyes. \u201cI know that, honey. It\u2019s just how I talk. Why, you want me to say your name less?\u201d She smiled and nudged him with her wrist. \u201cI like your name. I chose it.\u201d<\/p>\n Chris placed a forkful of green beans in his mouth. He chewed then said, \u201cDid my birth parents name me first?\u201d<\/p>\n Liz, midway through cutting into a piece of chicken, stopped, her elbows suspended in the air over the table. She sat there like that, her hands grasping the fork and knife, then she continued cutting.<\/p>\n \u201cYes, they did. But they\u2019d only had you for a couple days before they put you up for adoption. And I\u2019d been on the waitlist for a while. So you were only a few weeks old by the time I named you.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cWhat was it?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cThe name?\u201d Liz put down her fork and knife and leaned slightly over the table. Her brows knit upwards in apology. \u201cOh honey, I don\u2019t remember. I\u2019m sorry.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cWhat?\u201d Chris\u2019 voice cracked. \u201cHow could you not remember?\u201d<\/p>\n Liz\u2019 throat suddenly ached, like she was about to cry. \u201cI\u2014I don\u2019t know, Chris. I was so excited to have a baby. I\u2019ve told you this before, honey. I knew I wanted to name my son after my brother. You remember me telling you that he died that year, right?\u201d<\/p>\n Chris stared back at his mom. Her eyes were trembling as she tried to read him.<\/p>\n \u201cThat\u2019s all it was,\u201d she continued. \u201cI just really knew what I wanted to name my son, then you came along right at that moment and I was so excited and scared to be a mom, all by myself, well, honey, you know how it is, I could only focus on that, on what was next when I brought you home\u2014I don\u2019t know.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cI don\u2019t know how it is,\u201d Chris mumbled.<\/p>\n Liz wanted the conversation to end. Chris had only asked about his birth parents a few times in his life and each time it had felt like he was ripping something out from inside of her. The first time happened when she brought Chris to Boston when he was four, and he saw other black people on the T, and she realized it may have been the most black people Chris had ever seen at once. When they came home that night, Chris looked up at her and with his four-year-old fingers stroked her hair and picked up a piece. He placed it on his head and said, \u201cMommy, we have different hair.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cWhat are you talking <\/em>about! Hair is hair!\u201d She had replied, with her most animated, highest-octave inflections. But inside her heart had pounded and she couldn\u2019t look her son in the eye. What was she doing? She was fucking up her son, that\u2019s what she was doing. But what did it matter if she just loved him? Loved him so much that she couldn\u2019t see their differences?<\/p>\n But then again, he was only curious because who wouldn\u2019t <\/em>be curious. It had nothing to do with her. But what if it did?<\/p>\n Chris was looking at his mom, peering at her, in disbelief. He could tell she was upset, that he<\/em> had made her upset. He wanted to question her more\u2014did she really just not remember<\/em>? But his mom looked like she was about to cry, and he hated when she cried, and he hated how easily he could make her cry. It made him feel helpless, as though he had all the power and yet none of the power to make her feel better.<\/p>\n \u201cOk, Mom. Nevermind. Good to know. Can we stop talking about this?\u201d<\/p>\n Liz sucked her teeth and looked down at her plate, ashamed that her son could be so even-keeled while she felt as though every sin in her life was unraveling before her eyes, and her son\u2019s. \u201cWe can talk more about this, about them, if you want, Chris.\u201d<\/p>\n Chris felt his chest tighten for her. \u201cNah, Mom, it\u2019s ok. I had a good time at Sean\u2019s today, by the way.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cOh that\u2019s good to hear. You guys didn\u2019t just play FIFA did you?\u201d<\/p>\n Chris rolled his eyes and smiled at her. \u201cMom, we\u2019re in middle school<\/em>. We have to have fun now before we all go to high school<\/em>.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cOh my gosh, honey. There are more ways to have fun then to just stare at screens together. How\u2019s soccer, speaking of?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cFIFA makes me better at soccer. There are studies that prove\u2014\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cThere is no way<\/em> there are studies proving that playing FIFA makes you better at soccer than actually playing<\/em>\u2014\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cI didn\u2019t say it\u2019s better<\/em>, Mom, it just happens to be effective<\/em> on its own.\u201d<\/p>\n Liz was laughing, and her heart hurt. She loved when Chris let them joke together like this. Chris started to laugh, too, and when he did, his body leaned forward and his forehead grazed his green beans, which made them laugh harder.<\/p>\n <\/p>\n Chapter 4<\/strong><\/p>\n With 8th grade over and summer finally at the onset, all I could ponder about was high school in the fall and the friends that I would be leaving behind. I knew that if my mother could help it I would be attending Johnson Academy with my friends, but those just were not the cards we were dealt. For that reason, I tried to hang out with my friends as much as I could that summer.<\/p>\n One weekend Sean and I went over to our friend Donovan\u2019s house to have a bonfire. I originally met Donovan through Sean who have known each other since they were very little. I got to know Donovan for myself though when we got partnered for a 7th grade lab project on gravity. He and Sean are very similar in regards to their upbeat personalities, in fact they look very similar too. They could honestly pass for brothers. Donovan is a bit more outgoing and talkative than Sean though, and for that reason it did not take long for Donovan to befriend me and get to know me on a personal level.<\/p>\n Along with Sean, Donovan was also planning to attend Johnson Academy in the fall, so it was really nice to be able to chat with both of them at the bonfire. \u201cYou guys excited to be going to Johnson in the fall,\u201d I inquired casually.<\/p>\n \u201cYes sir,\u201d they responded in unison.<\/p>\n \u201cYou know, I heard the chicks at Johnson are absolute smokeshows,\u201d Donovan added.<\/p>\n \u201cOh yeah?\u201d I asked with a smirk.<\/p>\n \u201cWhere\u2019d you hear that from?\u201d Sean questioned.<\/p>\n \u201cMy boy Bobby told me the other night,\u201d Donovan responded.<\/p>\n \u201cWhat are the odds you actually get with one of \u2018em?\u201d I added.<\/p>\n \u201cAs high as the moon, Chris. As high as the moon,\u201d Donovan proclaimed.<\/p>\n \u201cI like the confidence buddy,\u201d I laughed.<\/p>\n \u201cCome on Donovan, we are talking about reality here, not your dreams,\u201d Sean added.<\/p>\n \u201cYeah yeah you\u2019ll see Sean. You\u2019ll all see,\u201d Donovan said.<\/p>\n \u201cHopefully the chicks at Green Lake are just as fine,\u201d I noted.<\/p>\n \u201cChris, Green Lake is literally massive, you\u2019ll probably get laid before the both of us,\u201d Sean responded reassuringly.<\/p>\n \u201cYeah, hard to argue with that,\u201d Donovan added.<\/p>\n \u201cYou know, I heard their soccer program is one of the best in the state too,\u201d said Sean.<\/p>\n \u201cI know. I\u2019m gonna go to tryouts in a couple weeks,\u201d I responded.<\/p>\n \u201cYou\u2019ll probably make the team easily. I on the other hand am gonna have to put Johnson on my back if we are to go anywhere this season,\u201d Sean added jokingly.<\/p>\n \u201cYeah, I heard you guys lost a lot of seniors. At least you\u2019ll be one of the coach\u2019s favorites right off the bat,\u201d I told him.<\/p>\n \u201cTrue that,\u201d he responded.<\/p>\n \u201cYou know, I heard that Green Lake\u2019s program is so good \u2018cause they got a lot of ethnic guys on their squad,\u201d Donovan claimed.<\/p>\n \u201cYeah true. I heard they get guys from Brockton and New Bedford every year,\u201d Sean added.<\/p>\n \u201cReally?\u201d I questioned.<\/p>\n \u201cYeah, those guys are athletic freaks. Meanwhile my white ass is stuck on my white boy team preparing to play other white boy teams in our white boy league haha. I\u2019d kill to play with some of those guys,\u201d Sean said.<\/p>\n \u201cYeah Chris, you\u2019re gonna be playing with the best of the best,\u201d Donovan added.<\/p>\n This was something that I had not really given much thought before. My school was pretty white for the most part along with the soccer team I played for\u2014 and our town in general. It made me feel a little uneasy thinking about life at Green Lake and whether or not I would fit into the social sphere of the school. Sean and Donovan were right that Green Lake is a huge school, with a population of around 8,000 students. A school that large is bound to have pretty decent diversity, especially considering it\u2019s a regional school. As I stared into the bonfire, I decided to look at my future at Green Lake in a positive light, figuring that this would be a great opportunity for me to experience different cultures that I wasn\u2019t used to. As I was pondering my future, Sean broke the silence. \u201cHey Chris, since we won\u2019t be home very often, make sure to give us a call every once in awhile.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cYeah, definitely,\u201d I responded.<\/p>\n As we stared into the bonfire some more, Donovan threw on his Spotify playlist which consisted mostly of EDM artists like Avicii and Zedd. With my mind spinning thinking about Green Lake, Sean, and Donovan, I pulled out my phone and started avidly reading the latest Real Madrid news.<\/p>\n <\/p>\n Chapter 5<\/strong><\/p>\n Liz had been looking forward to the summer. Chris would be home, she would be home, and she knew, from the parenting books, that entrance into ninth grade was really an entrance into a world of conflict, defiance, and distance from her sweet, naive fourteen-year-old. These three months should have been the three months she severed that path. She and Chris were different. In all their years together, just them in that little house alone, Chris and Liz regarded each other with a comfortable deference. They were partners against her skeptical, and probably racist, parents, against their brow-raising neighborhood, against the parents at Chris\u2019 school who would say to her, \u201cIt\u2019s so good for my Sammy to have diverse friends.\u201d<\/p>\n But Chris had spent most of the summer with Sean and Donovan, and his absence in their home had begun earlier than she planned. Suddenly it was the end of August and Chris was starting his first day of high school in a little more than a week. Liz mandated that they go out to dinner in celebration.<\/p>\n Chris was in a good mood. She could tell because he kept asking her questions about her life before she adopted him. What preteen boy knew how to ask questions? Liz had to discreetly wipe her eyes throughout dinner, she felt so much pride and love for him.<\/p>\n Liz knew she should ask her son how he was feeling about his friends leaving for the private school, or about going to Green Lake, but thinking about it made Liz nervous. It was such a big school, such a diverse school, Chris would have to decide who he wanted to be for the first time in his life, and she had no idea who that was.<\/p>\n On the drive home, Chris was quieter. Liz sighed quietly and cleared her throat. \u201cWhat are you thinking about, Chris?\u201d<\/p>\n Chris looked down at his laced fingers and twisted his palms around.<\/p>\n \u201cKinda bummed about Sean and Donovan are leaving, I guess. Not that I want to go to Johnson with them. I\u2019m excited about Green Lake, I guess. And nervous.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cYeah, honey, that\u2019s too bad that they\u2019re leaving. But that happens a lot. Most people have to start over in high school, you know? You\u2019ll be one of so many kids having to do that.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cReally?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cOf course.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cI\u2019m trying out for soccer. Donovan said they have a really good team because of all the black guys on it. It\u2019d be cool to be on an actually competitive team.\u201d<\/p>\n Liz glanced over at Chris and wondered what he was trying to say to her. She waited for the right response to come to her mind. Then Chris said, \u201cMaybe I\u2019ll find out I\u2019m an athletic freak, too.\u201d<\/p>\n Liz scoffed. \u201cWhat on earth is that supposed to mean, honey?\u201d She realized she sounded angry.<\/p>\n Chris looked over at his mom, confused by her tone. \u201cI was, like, joking, Mom. Calm down.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cDid one of your friends call you a freak?\u201d She tried to hide the anger in her voice.<\/p>\n \u201cNo, Mom. Why are you flipping out? Donovan just said the guys on the team are athletic freaks. He was saying that black people are good at sports. It\u2019s a good thing. You\u2019re not black, why are you offended?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cYou\u2019re not black either! Do your friends treat you differently because they think you\u2019re black?\u201d Liz gripped the steering wheel. Why was she getting so worked up?<\/p>\n \u201cMom, what the hell? I am black. Look at me.\u201d<\/p>\n Liz didn\u2019t say anything. The car approached their driveway, and she pulled in. She shifted into park and took her hands off the wheel, the car still running.<\/p>\n \u201cSorry, I shouldn\u2019t have said \u2018hell.\u2019 But Mom, I don\u2019t care that I\u2019m black. I\u2019m just saying that I<\/em> am<\/em>. But you know, I\u2019m also white. I don\u2019t care about that either. Why do you<\/em>? Why do you care so much?\u201d<\/p>\n Liz wanted to throw up. This was horrible. This was her worst nightmare. She had to say something but could think of nothing, absolutely nothing.<\/p>\n Finally, she inhaled and said, \u201cChris, that is a horrible <\/em>thing to suggest about your mother. I don\u2019t know how we got into this conversation. But I also don\u2019t know why you\u2019re saying you\u2019re black all of a sudden.\u201d Liz took another deep breath and said slowly and loudly, \u201cYou are whatever I am and you always have been and\u2014\u201d her voice broke \u201d\u2014always will be.\u201d<\/p>\n Chris sighed and shook his head. He wanted his mom to be right, for her sake. It\u2019d be easier.<\/p>\n \u201cYeah, whatever. I guess. I don\u2019t know how we got into this either but I\u2019m going inside.\u201d Chris got out and tried not to slam the car door behind him. Liz watched her son walk into their home. The living room lights flicked on. A minute later, the lights in his bedroom turned on, too, and Liz cried into the steering wheel.<\/p>\n \u00a0<\/strong><\/p>\n Chapter 6<\/strong><\/p>\n When the Green Lake soccer tryouts finally came around a week before school commenced, I was both nervous and excited. I of course more than anything just wanted to make the team, but knowing how great the program was I knew that was not a given. I appreciated Sean\u2019s confidence in me as a player but I knew the guys I would be trying out with would surely be on my level or even above it. Regardless of my nerves I was confident in my own abilities. I had been playing soccer for seven years and club soccer for four so I knew that I had the skill level to matchup against anybody. And deep down I did in fact relish in the prospects of being able to tryout against some of the top talent in the state. I figured that it would be a great way to gauge how my own skill level stacked up against the competition.<\/p>\n When I arrived at the tryouts my mother wished me luck and reminded me that as long as I stuck to what I knew and showed the coaches that I was willing to work that I would be fine. When I actually reached the field I was at first taken aback by the amount of players that were in attendance. Due to the small schools I was accustomed to growing up in, it had completely slipped my mind that there would be 2,000 incoming freshman students. At the tryout there were about 65 of us, and only 40 roster spots between the JV and varsity squads. I was not only taken aback by the enormity of the tryout, but also the diversity of the players, even knowing beforehand that there would be plenty of minority players. There seemed to be a range of skin tones, from really dark skinned to really light skinned players, and only a few other white players, which really took me by surprise. All my life I was so used to seeing whites as the majority.<\/p>\n First the head coach Pete Turner introduced himself along with his two assistant coaches John Wilder and Ryan Leavitt. Then they split us up into three groups to go through some passing and dribbling drills, followed by some one on one shooting drills, and a final scrimmage at the end. I was placed into coach Turner\u2019s group, and I think I caught his attention during the passing and dribbling drills with my proficiency in the two areas. I was however caught off guard by the athleticism of some of the players, as they really seemed to be as fast and strong as Sean and Donovan had claimed. As a player speed was always my number one asset, and growing up I was always the fastest player on my team and usually the fastest player on the field against opposition. During the one on one shooting drills though I had to switch my tactics once I realized I couldn\u2019t just use my speed to blow by players the way I could so routinely before. I instead had to use a lot more dribbling tricks to create enough space to get a shot off, and I had to be sure to be patient on defense and not lunge or else my opponent would just fly right by me for an easy goal. After the one-on-one drills were finished we took a brief water break before we concluded the tryout with the scrimmages.<\/p>\n While I was grabbing water from my bag one of the guys I matched up with in the last drill came up to me. He was one of the faster kids I went up against, and after he had dispossessed the ball from me rather easily the first time around, I had used an array of dribble moves to get by him the second time we faced off. Like many of the players there, he clearly looked mixed race, with light brown skin, curly hair, and black facial features. \u201cWhat\u2019s good nigga?\u201d He asked me.<\/p>\n \u201cOh, what\u2019s up?\u201d I responded.<\/p>\n \u201cWhat\u2019s your name?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cChris.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cCool, my name\u2019s Bruno. You got some quick feet bruh. You got me pretty good with \u2018dem scissors moves over there.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cOh, thanks,\u201d I snickered. \u201cYou\u2019re pretty fast, so I had to get a little more creative in order to get around you.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cAre you a freshman?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cYeah.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cCool, same. Where you from?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cI\u2019m from around the Cape. How \u2018bout you?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cI\u2019m from Brockton.\u201d<\/p>\n As soon as he said this, coach Turner whistled for us to start the scrimmages. \u201cI\u2019ll see ya out there,\u201d he added.<\/p>\n \u201cYeah, see you out there.\u201d<\/p>\n Overall I thought I did really well during the scrimmage. Coach Turner had placed Bruno and I on the same team, and we both propelled our team to victory. Playing the center attacking midfield position, I got two assists, one of which was to Bruno who joined the attack often even though he was playing left back. I also scored the winner in the last five minutes of the game with a shot from close to thirty yards from goal, which completely caught the keeper by surprise. After the goal, Bruno came over and celebrated with me, and coach Turner complimented me on the goal. When the scrimmage ended, coach Turner told us that he would announce the results of the tryout by the beginning of next week, and before I left Bruno and I exchanged numbers. Leaving the tryout, my confidence was at an all time high and I felt that I left a good impression on the coaches. While waiting for my mother to pick me up I responded to a text from Sean asking about the tryout.<\/p>\n <\/p>\n Chapter 7<\/strong><\/p>\n Liz and Chris hadn\u2019t spoken about the night they went out to dinner, which worried Liz. It was three days later and Chris should have apologized by now. He never let things fester between them, not for this long.<\/p>\n Clearly, something about this fight was different for Chris, she thought. Perhaps she\u2019d struck a nerve. But so had he<\/em>. He\u2019d hurt her<\/em>. He knew how much it mattered to her that he not question her legitimacy as a mom. He knew<\/em> he was all she had. How was it supposed to make her feel when he talked about being black? How could he look at his mother\u2019s face and go on talking like that? As if she needed a reminder that she had not birthed him, that he had a whole other set of parents out there somewhere, that he was not hers and hers alone.<\/p>\n She pulled up to the soccer fields and rolled down the windows, trying to discern her son from the throngs of boys spilling out from the bleachers. She squinted. From this distance, Chris\u2019s face was, for a moment, indistinguishable. When she thought she spotted him, her hand went to the wheel to honk for him. In the last second, she stopped herself, realizing the person she thought was Chris was in fact not Chris, but another 5\u201910\u201d light-skinned boy with kinky hair. She stared at the boy in shock.<\/p>\n \u201cMom,\u201d a voice called behind her. \u201cMom, will you pop the trunk?\u201d Chris stood at the back of the car, rapping his fist against the trunk hood.<\/p>\n \u201cSorry, honey,\u201d Liz called, looking around for the trunk lock switch.<\/p>\n A minute later, Chris slid into the passenger seat. Liz was about to pull away when a darker-skinned boy approached the open window and stuck his hand toward Chris.<\/p>\n \u201cHope I see you tomorrow, man. Good playing today,\u201d the boy said, sliding his hand against Chris\u2019 and locking fists.<\/p>\n \u201cThanks, bro, same to you.\u201d<\/p>\n The boy motioned a small wave to Liz, who stared back and offered a quick smile.<\/p>\n Liz pulled out of the parking lot and crept onto the road. She looked over at Chris, who was looking at his phone.<\/p>\n \u201cWho was that, honey?\u201d She asked, her voice straining for innocence. \u201cA new friend, yeah?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cBruno. Cool kid on the team. From Brockton. Sick at soccer.\u201d Chris said, avoiding his mom\u2019s gaze. He\u2019d been having trouble looking her in the eye since their fight in the car.<\/p>\n \u201cOh? What\u2014what\u2019s his position?\u201d Liz stumbled through the question.<\/p>\n Chris folded his arms and stared down the front of the car. \u201cLeft back. But didn\u2019t you hear me say he\u2019s from Brockton? It\u2019s a pretty black neighborhood, right? That\u2019s what you\u2019re thinking, right?\u201d<\/p>\n Liz opened her mouth to defend herself, but she couldn\u2019t speak. Why was Chris being so mean? The two sat in silence as the car merged onto the highway.<\/p>\n Finally, Liz spoke. \u201cYou\u2019ve been very rude to me, Chris. It\u2019s\u2014you\u2014you are hurting my feelings.\u201d<\/p>\n Chris was quiet. He felt guilty. He knew this feeling well. Was he really being all that unfair to her? She was the one who was probably racist<\/em>, and how fucked up was that? He wouldn\u2019t apologize.<\/p>\n \u201cSeems like a nice guy. Bruno. Kinda nice to have a friend a week before school starts,\u201d Chris said, his voice low and monotone. Liz didn\u2019t say anything. They rode the rest of the way home in silence.<\/p>\n <\/p>\n Chapter 8<\/strong><\/p>\n I had found out a couple days before school that I had not only made Green Lake\u2019s soccer team, but was also one of only three freshmen who were made alternates for the varsity squad. The other two freshman who were made alternates were Bruno and a center forward named Denzel. Denzel was also from Brockton and he and Bruno had gone to the same middle school and played for the same club team. They actually happened to be neighbors. Like Bruno, Denzel was also clearly mixed race as he had curly hair and black facial features, but distinctly darker skin than Bruno. I remembered him from the tryout because he was among the tallest players there, standing at 6-1. Even though he was very thin for his height, he was surprisingly strong and knew how to use his length to his advantage. He was also almost as fast as me, and could easily beat Sean in a foot race any day of the week. Since the three of us were varsity alternates we practiced with the varsity squad but played mostly JV games. Considering we were the only freshman at the practice, the three of us became close early on in the season.<\/p>\n One day after practice Bruno invited Denzel and I over to his house to study and hang out. We had to prepare for a group project in which we had to act out a few scenes from William Shakespeare\u2019s Romeo and Juliet<\/em> for our English class in a couple weeks. We worked on the script for about an hour until we felt like we had gotten enough done and we decided to eat dinner. While Bruno\u2019s mother was setting up dinner, my own mother was texting me constantly asking if I was coming home to eat with her. I was having a good time with Bruno and Denzel and I wanted to stay, so I lied to her and told her that Bruno\u2019s mother insisted that I stayed for dinner. Bruno\u2019s mother had prepared macaroni pie and fried chicken with peach cobbler for dessert which was all delicious. I had never heard of macaroni pie before. It was apparently a Caribbean dish as Bruno\u2019s mother was from Trinidad and Tobago. My own mother very rarely cooked fried chicken as she mainly just cooked Italian pasta dishes, and her fried chicken wasn\u2019t nearly as good as Bruno\u2019s mother\u2019s. I had also never had peach cobbler before which that day may have became my new favorite dessert. Afterwards we decided to play a little FIFA. Like Sean, Bruno was also a Barcelona fan while Denzel and I were both Real Madrid fans, so there was certainly never a lack of banter between us whenever we played FIFA.<\/p>\n \u201cDamn Bruno, your mother sure is a great cook,\u201d I said as we were adjusting our lineups.<\/p>\n \u201cYeah, she definitely knows how to make a good macaroni pie,\u201d Bruno responded.<\/p>\n \u201cYeah nigga, when I become rich and have my own mansion Imma hire your mother to be my personal chef,\u201d Denzel stated jokingly.<\/p>\n \u201cNigga please, if you tried to buy my mother then I would have to buy a ladder to clock you in the face,\u201d Bruno responded.<\/p>\n \u201cCome on man, I ain\u2019t just gonna buy her, she would be very <\/em>well paid,\u201d Denzel added.<\/p>\n \u201cShut the fuck up nigga,\u201d Bruno responded coldly.<\/p>\n \u201cRelax nigga I was just playin\u2019,\u201d Denzel stated.<\/p>\n \u201cYou both need to relax, and Bruno you need to get ready for this whooping,\u201d I chimed in.<\/p>\n \u201cWe\u2019ll see about that,\u201d Bruno responded.<\/p>\n While we played, Denzel threw on his Spotify playlist which consisted of rap artists that I had never heard of. I didn\u2019t really like the music at first, but I just remained silent since Bruno and Denzel both seemed to be enjoying it. However, as we kept playing, the music started to grow on me more and more.<\/p>\n \u201cHey Denzel, who is this?\u201d I asked curiously.<\/p>\n Suddenly, Denzel and Bruno both looked at me and then each other with perplexed faces.<\/p>\n \u201cNigga, you don\u2019t know A Boogie wit da Hoodie?\u201d Bruno asked with a look of surprise.<\/p>\n \u201cNah, I\u2019ve never heard of him,\u201d I answered timidly.<\/p>\n \u201cNigga what the fuck?\u201d Denzel added equally surprised. \u201cHow do you not know A Boogie?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cI don\u2019t know, I guess I just don\u2019t listen to much rap music,\u201d I responded, a bit embarrassed.<\/p>\n \u201cDamn son, then what the hell kinda music do <\/em>you listen to,\u201d Bruno inquired.<\/p>\n \u201cI don\u2019t know, mostly alternative rock and EDM I guess,\u201d I muttered.<\/p>\n \u201cDamn, you musta grown up around a lot of white folks,\u201d Denzel chuckled.<\/p>\n \u201cSure seems like it,\u201d Bruno snickered. \u201cHere\u2019s another question for you Chris. Have you ever had macaroni pie before today?\u201d Buno asked.<\/p>\n I wanted to lie to save myself from even more embarrassment, but I figured it really wouldn\u2019t do me any good.<\/p>\n \u201cNah, not really,\u201d I admitted.<\/p>\n Bruno could see how visibly embarrassed I was. He decided to stop interrogating me.<\/p>\n \u201cDamn bruh, you\u2019ve really <\/em>been missing out on a lot. But I guess it makes sense. You come from a predominantly white area, right?\u201d He asked.<\/p>\n \u201cYeah,\u201d I answered.<\/p>\n \u201cTrue, they probably don\u2019t listen to much rap music where he\u2019s from,\u201d Denzel added.<\/p>\n \u201cYou are part black though, aren\u2019t you? I mean, you certainly look part black,\u201d Bruno questioned.<\/p>\n \u201cYeah I am, I guess I just haven\u2019t really been exposed to the things you guys grew up with,\u201d I responded.<\/p>\n \u201cHmm. You ever seen the movie Boyz n the Hood<\/em> Chris?\u201d Denzel inquired.<\/p>\n \u201cNah, can\u2019t say I have,\u201d I answered.<\/p>\n \u201cDamn, you need to see that movie now,\u201d he exclaimed.<\/p>\n \u201cYeah, that\u2019s a good idea,\u201d Bruno added.<\/p>\n \u201cHmm, It\u2019s getting kinda late, I think I might need to head home soon. I don\u2019t want my mom to have to try to find your house in the middle of the night,\u201d I answered.<\/p>\n \u201cNah Chris, you really <\/em>need to see this movie. Plus my dad can just drop you back home once it finishes,\u201d Bruno implored.<\/p>\n I gave it some more thought and decided that I probably should stay to see the movie. There seemed to be so much about my blackness that I didn\u2019t know, and the more I hung out with Bruno and Denzel, the more I wanted to explore it. \u201cAlright, then let\u2019s get this movie started now so that I don\u2019t get home mad late.\u201d<\/p>\n By the end of the film I had so many questions for my mother about my own blackness that I didn\u2019t know where to start. In a way I felt a bit betrayed by her. Like she had been concealing such an important part of my own identity from me and it made me both upset and angry. On the car ride home Bruno\u2019s father tried to make small talk with me, but I more or less gave him one-word answers because I just wasn\u2019t in the mood to talk. When we got home I thanked Bruno\u2019s father for the ride and then slowly walked up to the doorstep of my house which was pitch black. Suddenly, the kitchen lights flashed on and I knew that my mother was still awake, waiting for me.<\/p>\n \u00a0<\/strong><\/p>\n Chapter 9<\/strong><\/p>\n \u201cBefore you say anything, tell me something, would you?\u201d Chris approached the kitchen table, his bookbag, soccer bag, and shoes all slung over his shoulder. He dropped everything to the floor.<\/p>\n Liz glared back at him, her arms folded on the table.<\/p>\n \u201cWhy did I just spend the past six hours getting schooled on being black? Why did it feel like I was being taught a foreign language? It was humiliating, Mom. Humiliating.\u201d<\/p>\n Chris stood, there, his hands at his sides, his stance unchanging as he waited for Liz to say something.<\/p>\n Liz\u2019 throat went dry and suddenly there were tears in her eyes.<\/p>\n \u201cYou should have told me you were coming home late. Not texting me was unacceptable,\u201d she said.<\/p>\n \u201cThat doesn\u2019t fucking matter<\/em>, Mom! That\u2019s not the point right now!\u201d Chris slammed his hands on the table and leaned forward in exasperation. Liz flinched.<\/p>\n \u201cI\u2019d never even heard of Boyz n the Hood<\/em>,\u201d Chris cried.<\/p>\n \u201cChris,\u201d her voice cracked. \u201cI don\u2019t know what you want me to say. You had a wonderful childhood. You\u2019re being incredibly ungrateful,\u201d Liz\u2019 voice hardened.<\/p>\n \u201cOh, am I?\u201d Chris\u2019 voice was getting louder. \u201cI\u2019m being ungrateful for all the whiteness<\/em> you gave me? Because that\u2019s what you mean, right? You saved me by making me white like you, right?\u201d<\/p>\n Liz covered her face with her hands. \u201cHoney, that\u2019s so unfair, that\u2019s so unfair,\u201d she sobbed.<\/p>\n Chris took his mom\u2019s wrists and pulled her hands from her face. \u201cYou can\u2019t cry you\u2019re way out of this conversation again, Mom. Just admit it. You\u2019re a racist!\u201d Now Chris\u2019 voice broke, and tears started to form in his eyes.<\/p>\n Liz kept her eyes close, her body trembling as Chris held onto her wrists. She wanted to tell her son no, of course not, no she was not a racist, she loved him and all of him, even the blackness. But she knew she hated his blackness. But not the blackness itself, she told herself. She hated that it was the one thing that separated them, the one thing that distanced her son\u2014her beloved son, the only person to unconditionally love her, the only purpose she had in her life, the love of<\/em> her life\u2014and this, this was the one thing that could take him away from her, and she hated it, she did. But she knew that made her an awful, awful mother, and now Chris could finally see her for the abominable person she was. This was the moment. This was the moment she lost Chris forever.<\/p>\n Tears were streaming down Chris\u2019 face. His mother wasn\u2019t saying anything. His mother really was racist. His own mother.<\/p>\n Liz opened her eyes and saw her son\u2019s broken face, and she wanted to die. \u201cNo, honey, I love you so much, you have to know that, you just have to know that.\u201d The words came out a strained, course whisper.<\/p>\n \u201cYeah, whatever. I\u2019m not a naive little kid anymore, Mom. I love you too, but this is fucked up.\u201d Chris said, releasing her wrists and backing away. He leaned down to pick his bags up, not breaking eye contact with his mother. \u201cI\u2019m going to bed,\u201d he said. He walked upstairs, not looking back at her.<\/p>\n <\/p>\n 3 years later<\/em><\/strong><\/p>\n \u00a0<\/strong><\/p>\n Chapter 10<\/strong><\/p>\n After thinking about it for quite some time I had made up my mind that I wanted to attend Howard University the following year. After spending the last three years exploring my blackness with guys like Bruno and Denzel, and knowing that my exploration was not quite finished, my heart was set on attending a historically black university. Bruno was also planning to attend Howard with me, while Denzel had his heart set on Morehouse College. For the first time in my life, I really felt like I finally had a true sense of my own racial identity, and I knew that I wanted to investigate my blackness further over the next four years of my life. Before meeting Bruno and Denzel, I felt as though I had been living a lie fabricated by my own mother.<\/p>\n With time, I understood why she had raised me as white. I was her whole world. I think\u00a0 raising me as white was a way for her to confine me to her world. For a long time I was angry with her for trying to mold me into something that was only half of my identity. I didn\u2019t want to forgive her for what she did, but I knew that eventually I would have to. I couldn\u2019t stay mad at her forever, because I knew that it would break her heart. Though I was angry with her, she was still my mother, and there was no one on the earth that I loved and cared about more. She may not have been my birth mother, but unlike my birth mother, she brought me into her home and raised me as her own son, and for that reason I knew that I could never stay mad at her. I never did forget about that night I called my mother a racist, and it felt like everytime I closed my eyes I would relive that night in my head again. If there was any reason I had to forgive my mother, it was to free myself from the guilt that had been slowly eating away at me over the last three years. Guilt for convincing her that I no longer loved her, when that simply wasn\u2019t true.<\/p>\n Truthfully, I do believe that my mother had good intentions raising me as white. She was white of course, and so was almost everyone else around me. She not only wanted me to be able to identify with her as my mother, but also with all the other kids that I would grow up with. I still strongly believe that if she had the financial means, she would have sent me to Johnson Academy with Sean and Donovan. I think that discovering my black identity was one of the last things she expected sending me to Green Lake, and one of the things that she always feared deep down. I hadn\u2019t told her yet that I wanted to go to Howard, and I hadn\u2019t even told her that I was interested in attending a historically black university, though I\u2019m almost certain that the thought has crossed her mind at some point over the last three years. In the end, I wanted to let her know that I loved her, and that I was no longer angry with her for raising me the way that she did. And more importantly, I wanted to let her know that no matter where I went or how black<\/em> I became, I was always going to be her son and nothing would ever change that.<\/p>\n Before speaking with my mother about this, I knew that I wanted to let Sean and Donovan know about my decision first. Though we didn\u2019t hang out nearly as much as we did in middle school, which was only natural considering we were no longer around each other 24\/7, we still kept in touch and tried to hang out whenever we could. At this point, I was much closer to Bruno and Denzel than Sean and Donovan. Donovan was actually out that weekend so I spent the night at Sean\u2019s to discuss our college plans, and I was surprised to hear how supportive he was of my decision. \u201cThat\u2019s awesome Chris,\u201d he exclaimed.<\/p>\n \u201cWow, um, you really think so?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cOf course, it\u2019s a great school, especially if you want to attend a historically black university.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cYeah, that\u2019s the idea,\u201d I snickered.<\/p>\n \u201cIt\u2019s cool to see that you want to explore your blackness more, that\u2019s awesome.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cI guess I just wasn\u2019t expecting you to be so enthusiastic about my decision,\u201d I chuckled. \u201cThough I guess that\u2019s more so my mom I\u2019m thinking about.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cHave you not told her yet?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cNah, not yet, I will soon though. By the way, there\u2019s something I\u2019ve been meaning to ask you for a while now.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cShoot.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cI know that I told you years ago that I\u2019m part black, but did you always view me as black, or different from everybody else, or different from Donovan?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cI mean, yeah I always knew that you were mixed, but I guess I never really viewed you differently than someone like Donovan, at least in regards to your race. We seemed to be interested in the same things, and I don\u2019t think you ever had any distinctly black<\/em> interests, otherwise I probably would have taken notice. That\u2019s likely because of the way you were brought up though. It doesn\u2019t seem as though your mom ever pushed you to embrace your blackness.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cYeah, that\u2019s what I\u2019ve come to realize. So did you view me as white?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cIn a way, yeah. I guess I just didn\u2019t really view you as different from anybody else.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cI see. I guess I\u2019ve just been trying to get a better of grasp of how others viewed me growing up now that I\u2019ve begun to embrace my true identity.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cThat makes sense, and it\u2019s cool to see how you\u2019ve come to terms with your blackness these last few years.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cYeah, Bruno and Denzel definitely opened my eyes quite a bit.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cHow are they by the way?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cThey\u2019re doing well, Bruno is also planning to apply to Howard as well, and Denzel wants to go to Morehouse.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cThat\u2019s awesome. That\u2019d be sweet if you and Bruno both got into Howard.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cYeah, that\u2019s our hope. Where do you plan to apply by the way.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cNortheastern is my number one choice right now.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cWow, that\u2019s awesome, that\u2019s a great school.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cYeah, I think I want to apply early decision too \u2018cause I love the school so much.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cOh yeah? Bruno and I are thinking of doing the same thing for Howard.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cThat\u2019s great, you definitely have a better shot of getting in if you apply early.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cDo you know where Donovan plans to apply? I haven\u2019t gotten the chance to ask him yet.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cI\u2019m pretty sure his first choice is BC.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cOh okay, nice. That\u2019d be great if you guys both got to go to school in Boston.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cYeah, that\u2019s the plan.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cWell, you down for me to beat your ass in some FIFA now?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cWe\u2019ll see about that buddy,\u201d he laughed.<\/p>\n As we played I began to reminisce about all the games of FIFA we used to play back in middle school. It\u2019s crazy how much time has changed, and I was happy to know that Sean and I were still good friends. My thoughts then began to dwell on my mother and how I would tell her about my decision to apply to Howard. A part of me didn\u2019t want to talk to her about it for fear that it would push us even further apart or make her unhappy, but I knew that it was a conversation that we had to have.\u00a0 As I waited for him to adjust his lineup, I put on my Spotify playlist of Bryson Tiller, A Boogie, and Tory Lanez. While we were midway through the first game, Sean asked me, \u201cWhat rapper is this? I like his flow.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cHis name is A Boogie wit da Hoodie, my friend,\u201d I chuckled.<\/p>\n \u201cHuh, interesting name, I\u2019ll have to check him out later.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cDefinitely.\u201d<\/p>\n <\/p>\n Chapter 11<\/strong><\/p>\n The fight marked Liz\u2019 letting go of Chris. She refused to go to any of his soccer games, to ask him about his friends or what he did in his free time. She asked him about his classes and his teachers, and pretended she didn\u2019t notice him growing his hair out or buying new clothes or listening to new music. She pretended to become indifferent, and it was painfully difficult for her. The first year of high school, as Liz tried to remove herself, she told herself that if she showed Chris what it looked like to have an apathetic mother, he would take back everything he said and apologize and everything between them would be okay again. But he didn\u2019t, and that hurt Liz more than the fight had.<\/p>\n It had hurt Chris too, though, a deafening amount. He knew his mother was being vindictive, and he knew it was because she felt alone, and that it was he who made her feel that way. But he felt alone too and his mother couldn\u2019t see his pain.<\/p>\n The second year, she showed up to his first game, and he was a starter, and he was great. Watching him score, his black, brown, and white teammates surrounding round him with such blatant joy and love, and his face breaking out in the smile she hadn\u2019t seen in so long\u2014it all made her feel so intensely the guilt she had been suppressing. But she felt it, and it was debilitating. She couldn\u2019t look Chris in the eye that night. She couldn\u2019t look in the mirror.<\/p>\n The third year, she met the other parents on the team. The mother of the boy who came up to the car that afternoon would approach her at games and go on and on about Chris and how much her family loved having him over. Liz felt embarrassed and ashamed. She couldn\u2019t say the same about Bruno; she barely remembered his name. So she asked Chris if he would bring his friends over more, and he did, and she loved them.<\/p>\n When he was a senior, Chris approached his mom one evening in October and said, \u201cI just had my interview today with a Howard admissions rep and it went really well. I wanted you to know. I might really get to go there.\u201d<\/p>\n Liz was quiet. She\u2019d seen the Howard brochures arriving in the mail earlier that month but hadn\u2019t said anything. She and Chris hadn\u2019t talked about his race since the fight three years back, and she was terrified to remind him of it. She\u2019d realized just how much she had wronged Chris, how much hate she must have made him feel for himself over the years, how confused her little boy must have been about who he was growing up. She had denied him his whole self; she crippled her boy\u2019s ability to be his entire self. Forgiving herself for that would already be hard enough. She couldn\u2019t bring up the brochures. She had no idea if Chris had forgiven her. She knew she wouldn\u2019t deserve it if he had.<\/p>\n \u201cWow, honey,\u201d she said. For the first time in three years, Liz started to cry in front of Chris. \u201cI want to say: why didn\u2019t you tell me? But I know why you didn\u2019t. I know why you didn\u2019t and I am so sorry, honey. I\u2019m so sorry.\u201d Liz shielded her eyes with her hand.<\/p>\n Chris rubbed the back of his neck and looked at his feet. He hadn\u2019t seen his mom cry in a while. He\u2019d heard her do it at night, when she thought he\u2019d fallen asleep, but now he was seeing it, and suddenly he was seeing his mom from that night, at the kitchen table, her hands crumpled in front of her face and her eyes closed and her body shaking.<\/p>\n \u201cI was scared of what you\u2019d say. It felt like things were getting better,\u201d he said.<\/p>\n Liz nodded, her eyes still shrouded under her hand. She inhaled and wiped her eyes and looked up. \u201cOf course you were scared. Honey\u2014\u201d her voice caught and she had to take a deep breath. \u201cYou thought I didn\u2019t love you because you were black. That\u2014that was the worst thing I\u2019ve ever, ever done. Let you think that.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cThat\u2019s what you did for seventeen years. You let me think my being black was an unspoken evil for seventeen years, Mom.\u201d<\/p>\n Liz nodded. \u201cI know,\u201d she said, firmly. \u201cI did that. And I am disgusted with myself, Chris. I am repulsed.\u201d<\/p>\n Chris stuck his hands in his pockets. \u201cHow are you going to make it better?\u201d he asked.<\/p>\n \u201cHoney, I will do anything. I will really do anything. Tell me what to do and I\u2019ll do it.\u201d<\/p>\n Chris shook his head slowly. \u201cMom, I can\u2019t do that. It needs to come from you. I know you\u2019re sorry, and I know how much you love me. But I can\u2019t tell you how to fix what you did to me. I love myself and who I am, I really do. Part of that is because of you. But part of it is because I had to do a lot of work, alone, without your help, with you actively avoiding talking about the things I most wanted to talk about with you. So now you have to do work, too.\u201d<\/p>\n Liz stood straighter and placed her hands in her pockets to mirror Chris. \u201cOk honey, I will. Thank you for telling me that. I will.\u201d<\/p>\n <\/p>\n Chapter 12<\/strong><\/p>\n I waited anxiously for about an hour for Howard to release their early decision results. I tried to relax myself by watching The Boondocks<\/em> while my mother was preparing dinner, but all I could really do was pace back and forth in my room, constantly refreshing my online portal to see if the results were out yet. I really wasn\u2019t sure how my mother would react. Would she be disappointed if I got in? Would she secretly be happy if I didn\u2019t? I immediately dismissed the latter, for as long as I\u2019ve known her, nothing was more important to her than myself and my happiness. Though this was something that I knew she would have to get used to, I was confident that she wanted nothing more than for me to get an acceptance letter from Howard.<\/p>\n When it was finally 8:00 p.m., I stopped pacing back and forth and lunged toward my computer to refresh the online portal. As I waited for the page to reload, my stomach was churning, as if all the forces in the world were pushing down against it. Suddenly, the page loaded and all I saw were the words, \u201cCongratulations Chris, You\u2019re in!\u201d As soon as I saw those words I shut my computer and sprinted down the stairs to the kitchen. However, as soon as I saw my mother, my excitement subsided. A sense of doubt crept into my thoughts, and for a moment I sincerely questioned whether or not my mother would be happy for me. \u201cMom, I got in.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cOh my God, Chris!\u201d My mother dropped her cooking spoon and ran over to hug me for what felt like an eternity. \u201cI\u2019m so proud of you!\u201d She sobbed.<\/p>\n As soon as I heard those words, I cried too. Hearing her say those words felt like a dream, and I didn\u2019t want to wake up. I hugged her even tighter, not wanting to let go. As we held onto each other, I whispered in her ear that I loved her, and that no matter what happened, I would never stop loving her, and I would never stop being her son. Hearing this, she sobbed even more, then she let me go once she realized that the stove was still on. \u201cCome sit down and eat, Chris. I made your favorite chicken stew,\u201d she said holding back her tears.<\/p>\n As I sat down I frantically texted Bruno to tell him I had gotten accepted to Howard and to see if he also got accepted. When he responded that he did, I nearly dropped my phone and immediately told my mother. \u201cThat\u2019s great news Chris! It\u2019ll be so good to have friend to go to college with!\u201d I then got a text from Sean saying that he had been accepted to Northeastern and asking if I had gotten into Howard. After I had told him the news, my mother joined me at the table and I told her about Sean\u2019s acceptance, and she stated how proud she was of all of us.<\/p>\n That night, I sat down on my bed with tears streaming down my face as I thought about everything that had transpired that night. I was delighted to know that I would be able to spend the next four years with Bruno, and I was so happy for Sean to know that he had gotten into his dream school. But I cried that night not for Bruno or for Sean, but for my mother. For the first time in years, I finally felt as if she loved and accepted me for who I was, and that\u2019s all I ever really wanted from her. I slept easier that night than I had in years, as I finally felt the warm love and acceptance I had been seeking from my mother.<\/p>\n <\/p>\n <\/p>\n <\/p>\n <\/p>\n <\/p>\n <\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":" Jared Cole and Lucy Ryan May 14, 2018 Uncle Tom\u2019s Cabin and its Responses Professor Chakkalakal White-Washed Preface White-Washed is a contemporary response to The Third Generation by Chester Himes, published in 1954. Our story rewrites the relationship between Mrs. Taylor and Charles in a 2018 setting. We took the toxicity of Mrs. Taylor\u2019s racial […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":2,"featured_media":184,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"closed","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"_genesis_hide_title":false,"_genesis_hide_breadcrumbs":false,"_genesis_hide_singular_image":false,"_genesis_hide_footer_widgets":false,"_genesis_custom_body_class":"","_genesis_custom_post_class":"","_genesis_layout":"","footnotes":""},"categories":[3],"tags":[4],"class_list":["post-182","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","has-post-thumbnail","category-3","tag-4","entry"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/courses.bowdoin.edu\/africana-studies-2582-spring-2018\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/182","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/courses.bowdoin.edu\/africana-studies-2582-spring-2018\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/courses.bowdoin.edu\/africana-studies-2582-spring-2018\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/courses.bowdoin.edu\/africana-studies-2582-spring-2018\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/2"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/courses.bowdoin.edu\/africana-studies-2582-spring-2018\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=182"}],"version-history":[{"count":0,"href":"https:\/\/courses.bowdoin.edu\/africana-studies-2582-spring-2018\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/182\/revisions"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/courses.bowdoin.edu\/africana-studies-2582-spring-2018\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media\/184"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/courses.bowdoin.edu\/africana-studies-2582-spring-2018\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=182"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/courses.bowdoin.edu\/africana-studies-2582-spring-2018\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=182"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/courses.bowdoin.edu\/africana-studies-2582-spring-2018\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=182"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}