The Awkward Black Boy: The Chocolate Aspie's Dilemma With The Black Community

At birth, we have no sense of ourselves. We don't know our ethnicity, our gender, our skin color, or how the world is outside of our mother's womb. Of course, as we become older, the more our minds develop, and we begin to see the world for what and how it really is. We are taught what society views as right and wrong, how we ought to live and behave, and how to become better individuals by our parents, teachers, and other elder figures. As a little boy with Asperger's Syndrome, my mother and grandparents taught me to always respect my elders, to display polite manners wherever I go, and to be obedient to the rules that were set for me. There are, however, plenty of lessons that no one can teach us. We have to learn certain lessons through life experience and the wisdom that comes from it. The one lesson that I learned that Mom never taught me, was that I may never completely fit in with my race.

I know what you all may be thinking: "How can he not completely fit in with his race? He is Black, so he should be able to fit in with his own kind." Well, being Black is not all about the color of one's skin. Throughout my life, I have lived in predominantly Black communities and cities, I have been educated in predominantly Black schools, I have worshiped in predominantly Black churches, and I even worked for a Black-owned business with predominantly Black employees. Despite being around individuals with various ethnic backgrounds, I have experienced the most ostracism from Black people. Although each race has its own subcultures, in the Black community, if you are not up to speed with what the majority finds trendy or popular, you can be subjected to criticism, ridicule, and even rejection. Growing up, especially in middle school and high school, I was the individual who really didn't catch on to what my Black peers found popular, or what was "tight," "fye," and "da s***." If you add Asperger's Syndrome to that, it made it a thousand times worse. No matter what I did to try and make myself friendly, I couldn't make friends with my fellow Black people, let alone friends of any other race. I have been accused of being "a White boy trapped in a Black boy's body" several times, meaning how I dressed, how I talked, and the overall way I carried myself was (according to my peers) the complete opposite of how a young Black man should and ought to be. In other words, the slacks and dress shirts I wore in middle school should have been  reserved for a young White man, because the majority of young Black men wore baggy jeans and oversize white t-shirts. It such an issue that one of the assistant principals, who happened to be White, told my mother that if she hadn't sent me to school dressed in buttoned down shirts and slacks, maybe my peers wouldn't pick on me. I was bullied for wearing penny loafers instead of Nike sneakers and I judged for greeting people with "Hello, how are you" rather than "Aye, wassup." Even when I started to incorporate more jeans and sneakers in my wardrobe in high school due to peer pressure, I was bullied for not wearing the "right brands" and I was still bullied for my speech and overall persona. All of this came from my Black brothers and sisters.

In my college years as a gay Black man, the way I dressed and spoke was more accepted, but there were still critics. One of my fellow gay Black peers said that I could fit in, but I needed to change my style of dress. The Black LGBT cliques didn't really take to me for the majority of my college tenure. Even when trying to develop my own circle of Black gay friends outside of a school setting, it was difficult because I was made the butt of the jokes and I was accused of "talking above people," meaning my vocabulary was too advanced for a club or bar setting. That hurt me because I felt like I was back in middle school and high school all over again. There were some positives: I found acceptance and encouragement from much older Black people and individuals like my professors and sensible peers, who could see a wonderful person regardless of my awkwardness. Although I was thankful for those people, I still felt a void. I wanted to accepted by my own race of people, without having to change everything about myself to do so.

Today, I come presenting my issue with the Black community. As a race of people that has experienced slavery, racism, and discrimination, why do we have a problem with Black individuals who are different from the majority and carry themselves in a unique way? I understand that in slavery days, slave owners/masters would indoctrinate self-hate within us, but it is 2014 and we as a people know better than that. Where is the love and acceptance that we have for each other? Don't we realize that the more we ostracize, ridicule, judge, and reject one another, we are slowly but surely committing genocide? The individuals like myself who want to be accepted and are not, are carrying anger, sorrow, and guilt that are eating away at us. Have we truly based our Blackness on wardrobe, music, diction, and trends? Is having one of a thousand different shades and skin tones not enough to be Black? I implore us, don't let hatred destroy us. Our ancestors already suffered and the next generations don't need to suffer like they did. Let's embrace one another and succeed in life together, not apart.