Yesterday I was driving down my street, with the windows down, blasting “The Fighter” by Gym Class Heroes. (It was the hip hop mix, because the original is all pop and lame.) Anyways, I came upon a group of little white boys walking in the street and one of them promptly started doing the Dougie dance. As I pulled up to my apartment and parked, the little boy and his friends passed by and he screamed out, “Hey, can you Dougie?!” I screamed back, “No, but you can!”
Afterwards, as I stood there chuckling to myself because he was too cute and hilarious, I suddenly became annoyed. I thought to myself, “Does this little boy’s mom even know he can Dougie?! And shit, what makes him think my grown ass can freakin Dougie? Is it because I’m black?”
Immediately after having this thought, I felt momentarily disgusted with myself. After all, I do my best to remain cognizant of how easy it is to make something racial when it isn’t. (It’s kind of the proverbial scapegoat.) And I also put forth serous effort to avoid making this mistake, because I think it dilutes the deserved outrage when something ACTUALLY IS racial.
Put simply, this was not a race thing, it was a maturity thing.
You see, I imagine that as I came riding through my quiet, respectable neighborhood blasting my music like I didn’t have any damn sense, I looked more like a silly, 16 year old child than a grown, respectable adult. And hey, 16 year old’s like to Dougie, which happens to be the title of a dance and a song that has a video full of black kids.
MORAL OF THE STORY: The sooner you start growing the hell up is the sooner you’ll be able to see past everything being black or white.
LESSON LEARNED: I really need to cut my damn music down.
Now I’m not saying I’m going to actually cut my music down. What I’m saying is: I am aware I look a hot mess. You know…lol…I’m a work in progress!