Not sure if it’s in my head or not, but, while I ride the subways, or walk into public places, people stare.
I don’t know how people make of it, sometimes they look, curious, they even look perplexed. I’m fully aware of the political tension around me; people are not feeling very prideful in America-especially black people. Trump is president, and people are protesting and burning this very flag, yet I wear it around my neck-nonchalantly.
So, why do I wear it? I wish the reasoning was super deep, but simply:
1)I like it.
Not much explanation, I’m a big scarf person, I’m ALWAYS cold and the neck and head coverage it provides is perfect.
2) It matches almost EVERYTHING I wear.
3) My younger brother gave it to me about two Christmas’ ago.
4) Contrary to many belief, I am American.
Let me clarify that last point.
I’m black. I’m African. I’m American.
My parents were born in NYC, grandparents, great grandparents all born here.
Unfortunately, I don’t know where my heritage come from, like many black people. What I do know, is that I’m African, most likely descendant from slavery, stolen from royalty; yet, through it all-I’m American.
It’s apart of my story, and what makes me me.
My grandfather is a Navy Vet.
My dad served time as a Marine.
My uncles served in multiple branches.
My favorite cousin is an active airman- and she’s a woman.
They’ve served for a country that don’t necessarily deserve their service, but they did it for me. That makes me proud.
I’m also pro-black. The juxtaposition of my stance on culture, and me wearing America as a scarf-is intriguingly provocative…at least to me. I guess somehow you can’t be pro-black, and love America at the same time. I’m a walking contradiction to that stereotypical belief. There’s days I hate America, and days I don’t. Sometimes I wear the scarf, and other times I don’t, however, one things for sure, it’s all apart of me.
When people stare, it humors me, because they’re assuming so much, but they have no idea. It’s just a scarf.