Not cause I for one second entertained the idea of switching rooms. He said he was in a single, and the single rooms are in shitty dorms. I am in a nice dorm. But cause I was turning him I down I felt there’d be a tension already between myself and my roommate, and his cousin whenever he was in the room. I said fuck it, declined and moved in.
And, if you hadn’t picked up on at least the cousin, they’re both black. I’m white. Should be a year of learning both in and out of the classroom for both of us. We’re going to use that in the commercial, and then have me holding up an afro pick with a really inquisitive look on my face. Then cut to him holding up my Friends DVDs and mouthing “what the fuck?”
Oh, the commercial is going to be for the show about us, called Who Be Trippin? You see, when he does something “ethnic,” in my whitest voice possible, I’m going to say “Homie be trippin’.” Maybe I’ll throw a “yo” in at the end, I don’t know. Then every now and then, when I do something hilariously white, he’s going to say “Honkey be trippin’.”
I smell a hit.
So anyway, our first encounter with the black elephant in the room came a few days into the semester. He said he was going into our bathroom to give himself a “shape up,” which I understood to be some sort of hair cutting process. He took a few steps towards the bathroom, stopped, turned and said “Wait, you know what a shape up is, right?”
I said I was pretty sure I did, and he laughed. “I guess you’ll learn a little something about living with black people this year, won’t you?”
I said, “More like half-white.” He turned and said “What?” I said, “Well, your mom is white, thus you are only half-black, or half-white if you’re a bit more pessimistic I suppose. Or really, optimistic, cause I mean, being white is pretty fantastic.”
That last paragraph didn’t happen, but his mom is white. But you wouldn’t know it by looking at him. It sucks because now I have to watch myself to make sure I don’t say the n-word or the m-word. Should be tough, considering they’re both like saying “hello” to me.
At first, I wanted him to think I was cool. I just want acceptance into the culture, that’s all. So I acted black like the people on TV, mainly Flava Flav.
Haha, yeah boi. Wow.
That didn’t work out so well. Then I just started only talking to him about Barack Obama. He’s not that into politics it seems. But that doesn’t mean I’m still not amped about voting for Obama. I mean, I don’t really care about politics all that much, but this is going to be great.
From now on I’ll be able to make sort-of racist comments, and defend myself by saying that I voted for Obama. It’s going to be the new “I’m not racist. I have a black friend.” It’s great!
So once that didn’t go over well, I decided I didn’t need his acceptance. I was just going to white it up until he cracked and had to give it up to me cause I stray true to my whiteness. Or at least that’s what I was hoping for. You see, I do need his acceptance.
I studied classic works of whiteness. Pretty much Friends and “Pretty Fly for a White Guy.” I’ve also revisited Eminem’s catalog, heavily. I think it’s working. We don’t speak anymore. When we see each other we just say “uhuh uhuh.” So we’ve got that going for us, which is nice.
But it’s not just his acceptance I’m pinning for; it’s his cousin’s also. I mean, he’s an authentic African! I thought I lost him the second or third time we met.
My roommate mentioned that he had a TV from last year at a friend’s house that he needed to pick up. I brought a TV and hooked it up. He said he doesn’t really watch TV, so he didn’t plan on hooking his up. I told him we could easily find room for it, or to use the one I brought, which is set up so he can see it from his side of the room if he so pleases, which he normally doesn’t but it’s there.
So he says he’s going to pick it up soon, but just leave it in the corner of the room or in his closet. I say, “Hey, just hook it up. We could turn both TVs on the same channel, mute one and watch that, while covering the other one’s screen and listening to it.”
They looked at me like I suggested we all get naked and play Wild Things. No exaggeration, there was a good 8 seconds of pure silence, before they just went on with the conversation and ignored my comment.
I think I won them back with my next attempt at humor. They were watching a History Channel show about the Bloods. I sat down and started watching, after all, I like clubs that make you rape someone as initiation.
After a while the cousin asks, “Hey Adaham, you know about the Bloods?” Now, I had been watching at least 15 minutes, so I clearly knew a good deal about the Bloods, but I answered anyway.
“I know of them, but I never tried to join them or anything.”
They both seemed to find that hilarious. “Imagine Adaham in the Bloods,” the cousin said. I claimed that I look better in blue, so the Crips might be a better option. That one worked too, and I’m now seen as a white D.L. Hughly/ Mike Epps by them, and I intend to keep it that way.
If anything, these first two weeks haven’t taught me much about living with someone of the black race. We get along well, I guess. We speak, but just bullshit small talk mostly. We both keep the room and bathroom clean, so things are going well on that front.
But I don’t think I necessarily feel the need for his acceptance as much as I did earlier in the year, i.e. last week. I mean, if he wants to tell me I’m the coolest white person he knows, will I just smile and then go and text my mom and cry tears of joy? Of course.
If he doesn’t tell me that before the year is over, I’ll be just as fine though. I’m not going to set out to impress him. I mean, I am whatever you say I am. If I wasn’t, why would I say I am? Or something like that.
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