RUN ME MY FADE, BECKY
BY VICTORIA LARTEY
High School. It was the best of times, it was the worst of times but for me in particular, it was a set of trying times. It appears that the stigma of being“ too white” for the black people and“ too black” for the white people had followed me through another set of dingy public school hallways. Crazy right? Me? Victoria? Considered“ too white,” it confused me too but that’ s another story for a different day.
So here’ s the tea. I attended the“ most diverse” school in the whole county statistic wise; which broken down into everyday terms meant that it was filled with a bunch of privileged caucasians who loved black culture & dreamed of being able to say the“ N word” in public without repercussions mixed with the straight up rednecks, book smart Asians, friendly Hispanics, and a side of melanated brothers and sisters from all different walks of life. However, in the end, everyone came together to make high school a somewhat tolerable experience without any issues …. except for when it came to Becky.
Now when I say Becky, I am not referring to the act of pleasure described in the memorable song by Plies or the alleged infamous mistress of Sean Carter but instead a certain type of individual. According to scientific research, a Becky is of the female sex, 11 times out of 10 is of the caucasian race, and is actually very commonly sighted in today’ s society spewing ignorant comments out the side or her neck. Now back in high school, I was“ friends” with a lot of Becky’ s but at the time I wasn’ t aware because to me they were simply Marcia, Jan, and Cindy. Looking back on it, I don’ t know how I was so blindsided because the signs were all there.
Back in high school I was definitely a character. Being around me you were guaranteed to have a great time full of laughs and smiles from ear to ear. But now that I think about it... Becky was laughing a little too hard and smiling a little too long. I ignored it,“ I’ m just funny right? Everyone is laughing.” Warning sign number 1. Then came the creepy obsession, as if I belonged to her and when I say creepy... I mean creepy. Warning sign number 2. Then soon after came the slick remarks“ you’ re not like other black people.” Warning sign number 3. Then I thought to myself“ did I just become the token black friend!?” In the words of the late and great Whitney Houston“ Ah hell to the naw!!!” But what did I do? I ignored it and pretended to be