Scaring the Normals

So, I made myself (and hubby) a disc the other day; Thr.33 Ring.z. I am having a ghetto fabulous week with this disc! Yes, I know he uses auto-tune and I know lots of people take issue with the use of the device, but growing up with Roger and Zap.p, I'm easy to forgive. I think it adds his own style and it's obviously making him a trunk load of money.

I've been blasting this disc, jammin' hard on my way to work (the two days I drive in) and around the neighborhood with my kids (I am trying to be a good mom, skipping the harsher tracks when they're in the car with me). Turns out hubby has been too, and on our way to the Targe.t yesterday evening, I noticed the stares we were getting. Yeah, the black family was blasting hip-hop...and? Does that mean we're degenerates or potential cell-block residents? Hell, no...but that's what the looks were saying. Of course, when the pigmently challenged are blasting their stereos, it's supposed to be a testament to their coolness, right? Wrong. If we look utterly ridiculous, than it's twenty times worse when they do it. At least our car has rhythm (even little Indy, she just moves rhythmically in circles).

All this has reminded me of how stifling living here can be for me, some times. I don't conform because it goes against everything I am. Hubby is the same way. I feel it in moderation only, but there are times when I'm talking to someone or when we're around other people...the differences. For example, people will just say things to my hubby when we're out and about. It's obvious that their scared, so they say something to him to alleviate their fears. Punk asses! It would be so easy to call them on it, but we're always polite and easily show that we're not as scary as we look. Hubby sometimes calls himself "The G.I. Joe Action Figure" because there are those who sort of see him as their "doll" to show off. Crazy, right? This definitely didn't happen when we lived in Nashville.

For me, I see their fear of the "Crazy Black Woman" emerging...and, it has on occasion. This is rare and, thankfully, I keep "her" in check because I seriously don't need that kind of a reputation. Then there's the stereotypical stuff people are trying to read from me and from hubby. I'm not naive. We do know that stereotypes originated for a reason...so many of them are gospel (but some are not, of course). Here's an example; hubby and I were at a dinner party, not long ago. There was a discussion about how one of the couples met, a lot of details were included, but I got the impression (once the story was over), we were expected to deal ours out in the same way. Hubby and I are usually so quick to share our story, but there was hesitation from both of us this time. What else were they looking for? Hmm... I also notice, when people are admiring his physique, they're looking at me. Not in a way like, "Why aren't you ripped-up like him," but, "Man, what do they get into?"

Further elaboration with this? Our kiddlings. When we're out together as a family, some one always says something about the girls. Always. Every single time. Whether it's how beautiful they are (which, of course, they are) or how well behaved they are. Sometimes, people just randomly give them stuff. What the hell is up with this? Again, this would never happen back in Nashville. I'm convinced.

So, are we just different or are we truly scaring the normals? I guess I'll never know.


(On repeat in the car.)