” didn’t become frequently asked questions until I began attending school at Towson University (TU) as a freshman.
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I grew up in one of the seventeen cities in the United States named Rochester (Wikipedia, 2015).
'I mean, look at those tomb paintings of the Hebrew slaves in Egypt,' offered my friend Dyann, a churchy Pentecostal girl who was raised to believe that the Jews were God's chosen people, and was eager to make the connection. And where do you think those full lips, and those springy curls come from?
From us, that's who.'Grateful that somebody supported me for draggin' this wagon, I didn't protest. Indeed, my butt has been a cultural ambassador, a passport to insta-credibility in many a multiracial setting. In an age when race can still be the elephant that nobody mentions, people quietly size each other up for nonverbal cues of who's Us and who's Them.
It’s almost like the same big-boobed thin-waisted video game girls that social justice warriors like to get offended about.