Up and Over

“Its cuz’ I’m black”, I said after my friend made a judgmental remark to me about my “weaker than weak” basketball skills. He and I were in the park after classes due to a bet I had lost. If I did not eat all of my food on that given day I had to go to the basketball court and play with him. The outcome—as you know, went against me and there we were on the court. Sweat shorts on and ready to play one of my favorite games, I was excited. Friends for over five years, we took the court like giants ready for battle. As wind rushed by us, David checked the ball to me. I stood there feet planted ready, firm. Waiting. The game had begun. I drove left. Backed up a bit. Looked up toward the basket as he followed behind me, ready to “block any shot attempts”. At 6 foot 2 he toward over my small frame and as I stepped up to take the shot I became fully aware of this as his lanky body came into the angle of my shot. The shot went off however but he was not the problem. Air ball. Air ball he cried continuously. Air Ball, Air Ball, Air Ball. Then he said that he could not believe it. That he could not believe a black person made air balls. I watched him. Watched my friend of a different race stereotype me and laugh about it. I laughed too however, then I continued my own taunting by stating that he was discriminating against me cuz’ I’m black, a statement made amongst black teenagers as a joke. I was embarrassed. Embarrassed that he would even think of saying something like that although we are close. Our relationship had never leaked into that ocean. We have always remained contained in our own area, forgetting about the dramas that were suppose to separate us. Racism had entered into our own world—our ocean. I had been exposed to its toxin. This poisonous toxin that was now invading our relationship, threatening it. Racism ended it all—ended us.