Don't you hate it when someone tries to tell you what you are? For example, sometimes when I tell people I am Black they say, "No you're not." I'm not? What am I? Becuase you definitely have stumped me. And then after explaining myself I still get a, "Oh I don't really see it" or "Ohhhhhh that makes sense." Perfect, glad my race makes sense now. I'm a pretty laid back person and not much annoys me but geez. If you don't believe me that's fine but at least pretend like you do and don't tell me, "No you're not."
Well look at that, I told you I would go off on rants and here I am starting off my first blog with one. I promise there is a reason for my madness.
Right after high school, I moved to New York to pursue a soccer scholarship and college. The college is in a little town called, Bronxville near Yonkers. It is one of those small towns that have a vast elderly and family based community. The college is probably the biggest attraction there. But it's a beautiful place filled with great people and if you ever get the chance to visit, I highly recommend going.
"The Cord" as we would call it, is an extremely diverse school. There were students from Japan, Brazil, Jamaica, China, France, you name it! And it's not like when you're in high school and there are about 3 or 4 kids who come for a semester. The population of students from other countries possibly out numbered the American student population. There is so much culture surrounding you all day every day, and it's an incredible thing.
Little did I know that having so much diversity in a school could result in no lunch for me.
Every day at the same time, my roommate and I would go down to the Cafe and grab lunch. There were several lines where you could get a variety of foods. There were pizzas, salads, burgers and my favorite pasta. The only problem was, the ladies that worked in the pasta line thought I was more cultured than I actually am.
They were convinced that I was Puerto Rican (they were also) and wanted me to order in Spanish. Let me explain something, I am African American, Caucasian, and Native American. I am not Puerto Rican. I don't look Puerto Rican. I haven't taken a Spanish class besides an intermediate one in elementary school and I don't speak any Spanish whatsoever. Now there is absolutely nothing wrong with Puerto Ricans or the culture itself, but that's not me.
I tried to tell them I wasn't and that I didn't know any Spanish. They didn't believe me. They were convinced I just didn't want to order in Spanish and you know that means. Yup, no pasta for me. I didn't get it. Why wouldn't they believe me? Why were they holding my pasta hostage? I literally had to have my roommate (who was super fluent in Spanish) order for me for a week. If I wasn't with her at the time I would just go to another line.
To me this is kind of like the, "You're not black thing." Like why can't you just believe me? Anyways, with some persistence on my part and some extra friends who could vouch for me, after a couple weeks I finally got my pasta again.
