During my freshman year of high school, I played volleyball at the time, and while during one of our summer condition sessions, a new girl joined the team. As we were conditioning, we broke off into groups. I was left alone, so I decided to ask the new if she wanted to be my pepper partner( pepper partner is slang term for a passing partner).
Within a few minutes, I managed to get a lot of information about the new girl. Her name was Stacey, and her dad was in the military, so she said she’s switched schools at least three times in the past five years. She’s an only child, and she likes it that way.
As we passed the ball back and forth to each other, I asked her what her schedule for school was going to be like.
“I’ve got back to back study hall for second and third period. I think they’re both in the cafeteria. That’s so weird. I don’t think I had study halls at my last school.” she said.
“Wait. I think I have the same schedule as you.” I explained. “Not the classes, but I think I’m in those study halls too.”
“Really? That would be amazing if you did. I’d love to already know somebody here.” she smiled.
We finished our passing exercises, and continued on the rest of the conditioning talking to each other. Sure enough, the first week of school started, and I did in fact, have study hall with her.
Study hall with Stacey was a whole new experience for me. Before Stacey, I was incredibly shy, and had a hard time talking to new people. But with Stacey there, she was the most social out of the two of us, and so she helped me come out of my shell a bit. Within a few study halls, we established our own clique: Stacy, my friend Anton, my friend Julia, Stacey, and of course, me.
As we continued to form our clique, I learned even more and more about Stacey. The first was that this girl could eat. Every study she would dump her purse onto the cafeteria table, and what would spew out would be bags upon bags of all kinds of munchies: Doritos, mixed nuts, and random candies. I never went hungry during study hall with her; but I also struggled to say no to the snacks. I most surely felt the extra pounds coming while we conditioned for volleyball right after class.
The next thing I learned was that Stacey was more boy crazy than I was. During our study halls she would gush about any particular boy in our class that caught her eye.
“Chris is such a cutie!” she exclaimed. “I would love to push back that dirty blonde hair of his.”
“Yeah. He is a catch, but he is kinda a jerk too.” I said.
“Honey. All of the hotties are jerks.” she replied.
“Yeah…I guess that’s true.”
She tugged on my shoulder. “But do you know who’s a hottie ad not a jerk?” she winked
at me.
“No.. who?”
Her head gave a nod as she slightly pointed towards our friend Anton. He was engulfed in his own beachy haircut, sleeping face down. He was also a grade older than us, and had the most facial hair we’ve ever seen on a guy.
“Anton?” I looked quizzingly.
“Yeah.” she smiled. “ He asked us if we wanted to see him compete at his wrestling match. We should go!”
“Maybe we should..”
“But could you possibly have your parents pick me up? Mine are going to be working.” she asked.
I looked at her and thought for a moment. And this was the moment when I officially noticed that Stacey was a skin color darker than me. This was the first time I realized that Stacey was black. While I was looking at her a few things came to mind. The first was that I was afraid to introduce her to my parents. Although they taught me to treat others equally, I’ve heard my parents use racial slurs about people of color while talking to family members at our holiday dinners. They probably didn’t think I was listening.
The second was that I was worried that they might actually say something offensive towards her. But there wasn’t much I could do. I couldn’t say no; I also couldn’t give her the reason why I would say no.
“Sure! Just text me your address and I’ll tell them where to go.” I half-smiled.
“Awesome! I’ll wake up Anton and tell him the news.” she quipped. I saw her poke our sleepy friend with delight.
The next few hours passed by, and before I knew it, school was over and I was already home. I walked into our living room and dropped my backpack. Both of my parents were on the couch watching the tv.
“Hey babe!” my mother said, as she flicked through the channels.
“Hey mom! Could you and dad do a favor for me?” I asked.
“Sure hon.”
“Could you take Stacey and me to our school’s wrestling match?”
“Stacey? Who’s Stacey?” my father asked.
“She’s a girl I met at volleyball practice. She’s in the same grade as me. We have study halls together.” I said.
“But wrestling though?” my dad looked quizzingly.
“Stacey has a crush on one of the boys on the team, so she wants me to go with her.”
“Okay. Tell us where she lives and we’ll pick her up.” my mom smiled.
“Okay!”
I ran to my bedroom and took out my old Nokia flip phone. I messaged Stacey and asked her to send me her address. Within a few hours, we pulled up to Stacey’s house and my dad honked our car’s horn. While we waited for Stacey to come out, I felt beads of sweat come down my face. In my mind, I was thinking of all the possible things my parents might say that might offend Stacey. Soon enough, Stacey was walking out of her home and towards our car. She was wearing a pink tracksuit, with her hair tied smoothly back by a pink hair tie and a headband. Stacey was a lover of anything pink.
“Thank you so much for the ride.” Stacey said, as slid herself into her seat.
“Oh. It’s no problem. We’re just so happy to finally meet a friend of Emily’s. Emily doesn’t bring that many friends over to the house hang out; or ask us to take them anywhere.” my mother replied.
My face turned crimson red as my mom said this. And here I thought my parents might say something racist. Instead, I was the one getting teased.
Throughout the car ride, my parents asked Stacey questions about herself and her family. The whole conversation went really well, and eventually we arrived at the school. My parents drove off and I was still in shock of what just happened.
I couldn’t wrap it around my head that my parents were the same people that would use racial slurs around the family holidays; and yet, they were also the same parents that just treated their daughter’s first black friend as an equal, giving her the same amount of attention they would with any of my other friends.
So what gives? Well now that the years have passed, and I can look back at this moment, I’ve realized that it really wasn’t my parents who used the racial slurs. But rather, it was my grandparents who would use them at family gatherings, and my parents would just nod in agreement. And I don’t think they necessarily agree with my grandparents;I think they just nodded in agreement to avoid any conflict. I don’t necessarily believe that this is forgivable, but I can understand why my parents would do that.I distinctly remember being taught to respect others, no matter what the color or creed of the person was.
But this moment in my life makes me realise that we have much yet to fix in society. My parents might not have had the same ideology as my grandparents when it comes to race, but they also didn’t stand up against it. And now I am the next generation, and my parents have instilled me to respect all people, of all races, of all religions, and of all sexualities, I have to be the next to speak up. I want a future where my child can come to me and introduce any friend, girlfriend, or boyfriend he or she might have, without having to stress or worry about my reaction.
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