S**t Falls down

When I was 12, I took the school bus with all the neighborhood children. As an introvert, my favorite part was walking to and from the bus stop alone. I went to a school that may have 3% of black kids in attendance. Consequently, there were slim pickings of kids who looked like me at school, or in my neighborhood. As to not stick out any more than I already did, I hid my idiosyncrasies like a bomb ass game of hide-and-seek. To protect myself, I was quirky when I walked alone. I would dance to the music in my headphones, that connected to my anti-skip disc player. Looking up to the sky as Britney Spears sang to me, I'd marvel at the clouds and the birds flying by. Sometimes, I'd stop walking and sing out loud imagining I was on stage. I loved being alone. At this time I was free. It was when I could calm the noise in my mind to a settling 10 decibel. After school was a different vibe. Walking back home brought me a sense of anxiety because it required social interactions. I couldn't look at the clouds float by, or dance to my music. If I did this amid other pre-teens well then I'd be deemed the weird kid that doesn't talk. Did I mention there weren't many kids that looked like me in my neighborhood? In fact, one other black girl--Regina, lived in the neighborhood and together we were a damn oddity, to say the least. Two black girls living in the whitest retiree saturated subdivision. One day while walking home together I felt fifteen percent at ease in my skin. For a 12-year-old Haitian-American girl forced into the sunken place to survive-- fifteen percent was golden. A group of us walked side by side. We took up the middle of the road without any care because who was going to stop us. Debriefing our day, we giggled and talked with one another. Though I didn't say much, I felt a sense of belonging, a sense of love.

Then

a bird pooped on the top of my arm. It literally took a shit on me and no one else. I screamed a bird pooped on the top of my arm. It literally took a shit on me and no one else. I screamed out of reflex, and everyone turned towards me to see the white blob adorning my honey brown skin. They all began to laugh in unison. Together, the group stared at my arm like I shitted on myself.

Humiliation engulfed me and all I wanted to do was run home. I wanted to cry from the embarrassment because being laughed at triggered the fuck out of me. I didn't cry though. I repressed all the feelings deep down to save face. Regina didn't laugh at me when the others did. She smiled and unzipped her Jansport book bag and took out a wet wipe. She handed it to me and helped me wipe the shit right off of my arm. My dignity was affirmed by her act of kindness. It felt like I was free to cry and then given a hug after the tears dried. She could've laughed at me but she helped me and for this I was grateful.
The lie that I have been believing this season simply is-- 'everyone ain't like Regina, people are laughing at you!' I often think people are laughing at how my life is unraveling and is a heap of mess that I'm desperately trying to shovel my way out. "Did you hear about so and so who had to move back home without a dollar to her name. Sucks for her!" I probably would've said. All while going home to my "well put together" life. Even though I am sure this has already happened because everyone likes to talk, shit even I do. I am reminded that I have several Regina's on my team walking alongside me with a wet wipe. The wet wipes come in the form of a hug, a listening ear, non-judgment when I've done something foolish, and not throwing me away either. Shit falls on you when it hits the fan. I'm trying to give myself space to feel the raw emotions and not hide them like I did on that walk home.