Ass Kicking

Now that I know that I’m mixed race. I reflect back on moments in my life where people questioned the way I look. My hair and skin tone were the two physical features that were always on trial, and I never understood why. Both of my parents were “Black-Black,” my brothers were “Black-Black,” which meant that I was “Black-Black.” People would tease me and say, “Someone in your family is lying to you!” or “You know your real daddy is white.” I’d go home, deeply hurt and depressed. I’d ask my parents why would they say such hurtful things; the response from my mother would be,

“Janeen, they are jealous of you because you are beautiful!” 

Sadly, I’d say, “But people at school ask me all of the time.” 

“Janeen, look at your daddy—you take after your father. Look at Mary Margaret, your grandmother; she’s light like you!”

“What about my hair, mom?”

“Look at grandma Jackson, your grandfather’s mother. She’s part native, and you have her hair! Janeen. You. Are. Beautiful! You are MY child, and ALL of my children are unique and beautiful!”

She’d then tell me to get myself together, kiss me. That was that! I’d think to myself that if I was so beautiful, then why would people pick on me or not believe that I’m related to anyone in my family? Most importantly, why did people mistake for being white?


North Stafford High School, 1988, 11th grade

One thing that was interesting about the dynamic between me and my brother Jermaine was whenever people were around us, no one ever questioned my racial identity. So when he entered high school with me, I was excited. He was my shield and my scapegoat. 

Jermaine had (and still has) an infectious personality. If you asked anyone from any grade, who’s one of the coolest kids in school, they’d tell you it was Jermaine. He had it all, the charm, the looks, the energy, and he had the ability to make everyone feel welcomed. He was also good at almost everything—and daring! Jermaine wanted to be a skateboarder, and so he’d get other kids to sneak building materials from a construction site in our subdivision, and he’d built a half-pipe in our cul-de-sac. Once it was completed, he’d boldly practice skateboarding tricks. Jermaine wanted to be a musician, so he picked up a sax, and after a few classes, he’d successfully play away. Jermaine was a champion swimmer, Boy Scout, and was on his way to getting his black belt in Karate, a boater, and he was a ladies man. Jermaine was almost great everything and is still like this now. If you don’t believe me, then check him out here. A few years ago, at age 42, my brother was a contestant on Naked and Afraid. Spoiler alert! He made it to the end.

Jermaine was also a ladies man—the Pied Piper of girls, a smooth operator. However, this trait got him into a lot of trouble. I remember one Valentine’s Day, Jermaine had a girlfriend at North Stafford AND South Stafford High. He’d asked me to deliver gifts he’d purchase for both of them because he was too busy trying to court another girl at another school. Jermaine was a mess – LOL. Most of the time, Jermaine’s girl drama never interfered with me too much…except for one situation. 

Jermaine, a 9th grader, was “dating” a white girl in 12th grade. I don’t remember her name, so let’s call her “April.” One day after school, “April” saw Jermaine and me riding off in my car heading home. April didn’t know who I was and so she started to ask around. Well, that didn’t help her much because I wasn’t like my brother—you know, popular. The crew I hung out with weren’t part of her circle of friends. I hung out with the theater kids, marching band kids, and art kids. I ate lunch with a few of the less popular kids. Anyway, one day, Theresa, you know, the girl who bullied me in 8th grade, told me that there was going to be a fight in the locker area and that I should go and see who’s going to be there. 

“Why should I go? I don’t like to see people fight.”

“Oh, because I think the fight is about Jermaine.”

“What? Why?!”

Theresa began to laugh. “Actually, this white girl, April, wants to kick your ass! She saw you and Jermaine in your car together, and someone told her that you were Jermaine’s other girlfriend.”

“Theresa, you have to tell her that I’m Jermaine’s sister!”

“I did, but she said that there’s no way Jermaine has a sister who is white.”

Theresa laughed again. “Janeen, you’re going to get your ass kicked!”

I was terrified! At lunch, I ran to find my brother and told him what was going to happen.

“One of your stupid girlfriends, April, wants to kick my ass after school in the locker area because she thinks you’re cheating on her with me!”

“What? She knows I have a sister!”

“Well, she must not believe you because she said there’s no way you could have a sister who’s WHITE!”

“White?!? What?” Jermaine’s boys started laughing.

I began walking away, embarrassed, and completely crushed. I was so sick

and tire of my skin color bullshit. 

Jermaine yelled, “Janeen! Meet me in the locker area after school! I’ll take care of it!”

I asked myself again, “What are people seeing that I’m not seeing? Why do some people think that I’m white?” I stormed away.

After school, kids were gathered in a circle in the locker area. I peeked in between a few people to look for my brother. I only saw April, who was visibly pissed. 

“Where the fuck is this bitch?” she said.

I said to myself. “Where is Jermaine!?”

Theresa push me into the circle. “Here, she is!” Damn, what was Theresa’s deal?

April’s voice got low, sorta’ like one of those WWF wrestlers, “Where were you taking my boyfriend, Jermaine, yesterday?”

I looked at her pale, freckled cover face and wondered what my brother saw in her. Her thick, navy blue eyeliner was smearing, and she had big bangs that were glued together by what smelled like Aqua Net. 

“April, I’m Jermaine’s big sister!” I barked like a teacup Maltese trying to tell a pit bull to stand down. I was so fucking scared.

“What? You’re lying bitch, you’re white! I know you are dating Jermaine. I saw him at your locker this morning!”

“April, I’m not white!” I looked around the crowd for a familiar face for back-up. Fuck! Where is my brother?! My heart was racing, and my throat hurt.

Jermaine, finally, busted through the crowd. 

“April! That’s my big sister!”

“You’re lying, Jermaine! This is a white bitch!”

A few of Jermaine’s boys chimed in, “April! He’s telling the truth. That’s his sister!”  

Theresa laughed and said, “April, you know me, and they are telling you the truth. That’s Jermaine’s sister; Janeen is a light-skinned skinny ass Black girl.”

April backed down and hugged my brother. I stormed off, giving Theresa an evil look.

“Ah-haha! Janeen almost got her ass beat!” she said. 

The rest of that afternoon was a blur. I only thing I remember is feeling alone, defeated, and that Darkness came knocking again. I opened the door and invited Darkness in, but after my conversation with it, I decided that I was too scared to take Darkness up on its offer and escorted it out of my room. 

I looked into my dresser mirror, cried, and asked God to help me understand. I didn’t bother to ask my mom and dad about my skin color this time. Why should I? I get my looks from my dad’s family. <<

46 years living my life blanketed by confusion has been emotionally torturous and affected my self-image, confidence, ability to trust, and decision-making. 

Many people have asked me to try to understand that times were different back then or that my parents did the best they could, or that I came out “okay”—I get it. But no matter the logic, one thing remains. My life was emotionally confusing and distressing—no matter how much love and privilege surrounded me. My life’s emotional experience was like a subdivision built on top of a landfill—beautiful yet mephitic. However, I’m successfully bulldozing it down and healing and embracing my truth.

9 thoughts on “Ass Kicking

  1. Kids, even so called friends, can be cruel like your so called friend pushing you toward the stupid girlfriend. I remember to this day being in a fight at Mark Twain junior high school (50+ years ago) and someone yelling out for them to beat my ass! I had no beef with that person and knew his whole family. He was and still is an ignorant fool. Even if you knew you were biracial at that time you would have had problems. I had problems in one white neighborhood we lived for a couple of years as a kid and it’s a very hurtful thing that at that time, shadowed me where ever I would go. Once we moved to Venice I never had that problem again with kids. Ignorance is something this nation is still dealing with. We see this today with trump and his gang of idiots. I hope I didn’t say too much. Peace and love to you, Janeen. 💯

    Liked by 2 people

    1. Hi Robin! If I had known I was mixed raced it would have to deal with the emotional confusion I experienced from my parents. Outside of my home I’d still have to deal with issues of being mixed and adopted but at home I would have felt emotionally safer.

      Liked by 1 person

  2. Ok I want to add one more important comment. All three of my kids, who went to through SMMUSD schools had problems because of their so called light skin. I couldn’t believe that this is a problem among ‘our’ kids. This is something that needs to be addressed.

    Liked by 1 person

  3. Wow, Janeen. I never knew all of that. I guess I was too busy being an introvert to know that was happening. I wish I had known. I would have stood by you. Then there would be the tall white awkward yankee girl standing next to you. I’m sorry that happened. I always thought you were the popular pretty girl. Who was this Theresa girl?

    Liked by 1 person

    1. Thanks! I know you would’ve been there. 🧡💙🤍However, I wanted to be accepted by Black kids SO bad that if I had gathered my “white” crew I’d probably be ridiculed even more. Can you image not being accepted by your own? Anyway that was then….

      As for Theresa. That’s not her real name. She was a thorn in my side! And you know what? “Theresa” and I found each other on FB and she friended me. I called her and we talked about our our experiences as kids, issues in school, insecurities, our pain and have made amends. We are good friends now!

      “Theresa” has an amazing story inside of her. I hope she tells it!

      Liked by 1 person

  4. The hard part of not knowing our truth is that our GUT knows. We know our truth intuitively and when we’re lied to or when truth is withheld, it’s crazy making! Our intuition is designed to help us as a survival skill. But when we are told that we are wrong and we deny our intuition… Then we can’t depend on one of our most important survival skills! We all deserve to know our own origin story! 💜

    Liked by 1 person

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