Part One
I have struggled with this blog for a while now, and I have decided to do it in parts because this hits close to home.
I was born in Zambia, left when I was a year and a half, I spent the first ten years of my life in the valley, Annapolis. I went to school there, church, I had a while life there. I lived amongst my friends, my neighbors and I all went to the same school, we all got alone, and my race was never an issue. Than when I was in my last year of grade five, my dad accepted a position to be a pastor at a church in the city so the whole family moved to the city. I did not like the city. I loved the valley, that was my home, but change is a part of life, so off we went. We landed in the city, lived in a couple of homes before the final move to Cole Harbor the year I was in grade eight. Since than we never moved again. I explain this because it is relevant to my post. While in school, I stuck out because I was different. In elementary school my sisters and I were the only black students besides a few mixed race kids. At this time, none of that mattered. But once we hit the city, race became an issue. I had been surrounded by Caucasians my whole life, and now being thrown into a a new setting with Black Nova Scotians, and other diverse cultures, it made me see that there was more to life than the life I had previously. I did not fit in at all, it took me a while to settle in, but I was able to make friends. I had different friends circles. Some days I would sit with one group, other times, I sat with some nerds, but often I just kinda went with the crowd. I cannot remember everything to detail, but I know I had trouble keeping friends. I don't remember much about junior high school, but high school was where I finally came into my own skin, and started to really discover who I was. I was a part of groups that allowed me to express who I was, even if I did not know what to do most of the time. I love to dance but am not a dancer...I had been writing though, short stories, poems, random thoughts. High school was when the awkwardness came out. First year, I had my own way of doing things, and that made me a target for bullying. It never got out of hand, but it made me feel more aware of myself. The names I was called were never bitter names but the fact that complete strangers though that they could say stuff, I am not sure if they were tempting or provoking a fight to see what I would do, but I never fought back. I was told if I had nothing nice to say, not to say anything at all. So I kept quiet. Over time , I grew more of a back bone and was able to really stand up for my self more. Being awkward is not fun, or at least back than it wasn't, but now, I am learning to embrace who I am, and accepting my self for who I am because loving my self is more important than please people who do not know me or appreciate other personalities. The road does not get any easier, but it will be better for yourself, like me, to just accept who you are instead of trying to be someone else for someone else.
Check back for Part Two:
Signed:
GyftedArtyst
