As a young African American girl I loved Salt N’ Peppa. They were some of the first crossover pop icons that my generation loved. I remembered being in the school yard with my Wonder Bread, childhood, best friends Paige Wheeler, Emma Rippee, and Lauren Champlin. We would go to the farthest end of the field and sing “Shoop”. No one wanted to be Spinderella… she never sang. It was Salt or Peppa. I was the darkest of group, so I would be assigned singing Pep’s part. Emma had shorter hair so she was Salt, and Lauren and Paige would take turns therein.

 Lauren was from a prominent and affluent family in Enid, Emma’s mom was an organic chef, and I don’t remember about Paige. Needless to say, it was a very funny scenario to have this motley of little girls spouting lyrics like, ” here I go/here I go/here I go again/girls what’s my weakness….?” And as I spit the lyrics my three counterparts would scream “MEN!” finishing the line to the song. What did we know about that topic? Nothing! We knew that Zac, a kid in our GT group who was always weird during our French lessons, was a boy and thus he was the enemy.

Years later I think back on how formative music can be. Isaiah’s current favorite song is Dolly Parton’s song “Jolene”. He hops around screaming the lyrics and “raising the roof” although I have informed him that maybe you are just supposed to raise the roof to Kanye West’s songs. But Why? Jay-Z, a rap artists, is famous for saying that rap heals racism.He says that when you love a person’s music, when you find yourself singing it and relating to it, the color of the person’s skin becomes secondary. It is hard to look down on someone you admire because of their skin color. Furthermore, there is no “there’s” and “our” music. Music relates to everyone.

 Lauren, Emma, and Paige had no real concern about the color of Salt N’ Peppa’s skin. They didn’t even connect that the name of this band told something about what these women’s classifications were in the Black community (light skin versus dark skin). The most interesting part of this memory is that though the girls were not worried in the least bit about these women and their “blackness” I was, at every moment thinking and feeling about it. Iassigned myself to the darker singer- because I knew I was different from these girls. In my culture African American children are taught that they are Black. My Grandma Annie Pearl would tell me, “Child! Remember you are Black because those White folks’ll never let you forget it.” From an early age I was taught that I would be considered less… so I should expect, well, less. I have several other races that are prominent in my genetics . My mother is Belgian and Cherokee and my dad was Samoa-American, African- American, and Spanish. My birth certificate says “Black” and nothing else…and my grandma never let me forget it. But my pack of friends never even questioned it. They knew my hair was different, and they marveled that I could fit THAT many beads in my hair, but there was never any line drawn. They never requested to see my birth certificate to authenticate my race before playing with me. In fact, I was the leader of the pack. Racism is taught from both sides. Sometimes, racism is inherited- as it has been in my family. Minorities can be raised in a culture that preemptively tells them to hang their head low (as I was). Dr. Bill Cosby speaks to this point (loosely paraphrased) that, children should be taught their histories, but that their skin color doesn’t determine where they go in life- their sense of self, community, and drive determine that.

I am sure you are wondering what my point is. I don’t know exactly what my point is. Maybe my point is that my son is African American (among a million other things) and these are things I have to think about. I have to consider how I will raise my son. Garrett and I have to decide which direction we will take. We certainly want him to respect his history and identify himself as part of the African American community… but certainly not in the way I was taught. It was taught to me as a handicap that I must endure. I don’t want to go down that path. Isaiah is a creative and beautiful individual and his race is of little importance to his success (to us). So for now, I suppose I will teach my toddler that if he wants to, he can raise the roof to Dolly Patron and line dance to Kanye West songs, because the color of your skin choice of musical selection shouldn’t make a difference.

Jasmine