There is something about Black and Brown love that moves me. Perhaps, it is because I was always told to watch out for “those” people growing up. In the 9th grade, when you are the only Morenita girl in the Mexicana group, you see the truth in your loved ones warnings first hand. Back-handed racist comments from can run wild in that situation. Harsh comments about your hair, skin and culture surface. And the sentiments run both ways: I’ve heard some pretty prejudice stuff come out of the mouths of Black people about Brown people too.
Let me clarify what I mean by “Black”. I am fully aware that there are Black Latin@s but for the purpose of this narrative Black is “African American”. “Brown” refers to non-black Latin@s. Now, that we have that out of the way…back to the narattive.
In my high school’s lunchroom, the division between was evident. Sure, Black folks and Brown folks inteacted a bit in the classroom, but the lunch room was a version of Mean Girls that Tina Fey did not write. The Brown kids met up on the south side of the room and the Black people were on the north side. I, and a few others, disrupted all of that by hanging out with whatever group we wanted to. Our pioneering ways were met with resistance from our respective communities and sometimes the communities we were trying to be a part of.
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