At Least They Knew Who I Was

In high school, I started a Gospel Choir.  For some reason, that annoyed some of my classmates.  People I didn't even know personally were perturbed that there was a mostly-Black Gospel Choir running around school, singing about God.

I didn't realize we'd offended anyone until I read our student newspaper where a senior athlete (I think he was a football player) wrote an article about me and the gospel choir.  It was a scathing comment and one that should've made me cry.  I distinctly remember my own classmates shoving the newspaper in my face, demanding that I read the article, waiting with bated breath to see my reaction.

Normally I would've given them the show they wanted.

I would've cussed and screamed and complained about the article being printed and everyone would've watched with delight as I had a complete meltdown.  That's what high school was like for me.  White kids would use the N word and everyone would look at me to see what I would say.  White kids would tell racist jokes and again, all eyes went to me for my reaction.  It was a terrible time for me before I learned to play the game - which would not happen for many years.  

So when this senior printed this article about me and the gospel choir I'm quite certain everyone thought this would be the thing that would finally cause me to snap.  But I surprised everyone by laughing at the article.  I was more excited about being in the newspaper than anything.  I didn't care what it said about me.  I was in the newspaper!

Plus, I was a sophomore and a senior knew who I was.  At the time, it was the most exciting thing to happen to me - I was in high school after all.  I thought being notorious was better than being invisible.  And I definitely wasn't invisible.  They knew who I was.  I couldn't tell you who that senior athlete was.  I don't know his name.  I don't know what he's doing with his life.  I don't care.  But I bet when he thinks back on his high school years he remembers the strong-willed little Black girl running around with her Gospel Choir and step team (we formed a step team too!).  He remembers me.

I probably would've had an easier time in high school if I had listened to my friends and family and kept my head down.  But I didn't listen.  Instead I protested.  I spoke my mind.  I made some noise.  Sometimes it was a waste of energy but  every once in awhile I got to make a difference.  Starting that gospel choir and step team was part of that.

I wasn't supposed to keep my head down - I was supposed to be remembered.

As are you.  So don't be afraid to make some noise.  Be remembered.  Start a Gospel choir or a step team.  Hey, maybe you'll even make the school paper.