Beverly Dow-Graffeo J. Cofer, The Myth of the Latin Woman; S. Chan, Youre Short, Besides! G.

Pemberton, Antidisestablishmentarianism

AFFIRMATIVE REACTION As a child being raised in South Jersey and wanting like most children to belong, I, like Cofer (180), resented the stereotypethat my appearance called forth from many people I met. Like Cofer, (180) I also believe that stereotyping can be sometimes a very good thing. Perhaps because of stereotyping, or maybe in spite of it, I developed an urge to buck the stereotype whenever I could----unless, of course, being stereotyped worked to my advantage. I was shy from the beginning of my public school education, partially because I was the only bespectacled, black child in class, and my upbringing. I learned quickly that if I showed intelligence, other kids would target me even more as different, so I stopped answering, verbally. Because I barely spoke in school, my teacher believed I couldnt read well, if at all, and stuck me in the lowest reading group. That stung my pride. I pretended I didnt care because in that group I didnt have to read out loud in front of everybody (!). The lowest reading group consisted of all the stuttering, lisping, reading-impaired, speech therapy-needing kids, and me. It wasnt until my mother met my teacher at the PTA that I was pressured to participate more and moved to the highest reading group. My mother revealed that Id learned to read before attending school, and was a bookworm. This was probably a much-needed kick forward, but it was also the period of my life when I developed my deeply honed skill of
ReadingReallyFastToGetItOverWith! So I know what motivated Chan the day she tripped

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on stage (98). Today, I still have to force myself to SPEAK UP and s l o w through oral presentations. Each time I do I get better.

down

I was raised old school1, inundated with the ideals of my culture. I ate, breathed and slept daily in a family consisting of my immediate and extended family of relatives, who lived in separate households, but nearby. My parents strictness was their only similarity. My father and his side of the family were dark-skinned, boisterous, familyoriented, loving, proud Baptists. He had Archie Bunker-like attitudes about everything and everybody, not unlike Pembertons grandmother in Antidisestablishmentarianism (30). My mother and most of her family belonging to the Church of Christ were lighteyed, God-fearing blacks. My gentle, courteous mother taught Sunday school, ministered to the residents of local nursing homes, helped with my fathers dry cleaning businesses, and mothered my four brothers and me. My entire family nurtured and babysat me, believed in God, education/hard work, and above all that children should be seen, not heard. As shy as I was, I fit right in. I remember being entrusted to my two older brothers when I was five years old walking to school in the morning. It made me proud to walk with the big boys at first, until I realized that they had an image of being tough guys on the playground. A lot of the other kids were scared of them and also of me, by association. But, I wasnt tough at all, in public. It was a myth. I was so painfully shy at school it took me until practically the end of the school term before I even made any friends. With my brothers, though, at home, I could be positively ruthless, so ruthless, in fact, that my family nick-named me the Black Tornado. I used that reputation when an overgrown, bully-of-a-girl, whod

Old school Values and mores that refer to previous generations (i.e. modesty, courtesy, respect, education, faith in God, hard work )

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been left back so many times that shed been in each of my brothers grades, ending in mine, tried to cheat off me in class. I knew Id be in big trouble at home if I let her, so I said fiercely that I would see her after school. She stopped(!). Throughout my life, as I spoke more, people complimented my speech. This unwanted attention embarrassed me. I would physically wince every time I heard it. One co-worker commented on my speech repeatedly until I got sick of her verbal jabs. When she stated that the only reason I had been chosen for a certain position was because I talked like a white girl, I asked her if she thought Caucasians had a monopoly on proper English. She looked at me and went away muttering something. (She hadnt mentioned the overtime Id put in to get the promotion in the first place.) When I moved to Hoboken, I sought employment in NYC. I went to an agency for help finding a position. I quickly found out that bright was a euphemism for black. I didnt particularly like that. I ended up finding my own position at a corporate law firm. Upon being hired, I was promptly (and often) told by the staff how glad they were to see that the firm had finally began to fill its quotas. I ignored those comments. I liked the job, worked hard to get ahead, and continued to advance until I decided to start my own family. When I left that firm, we were in much better shape than when Id arrived. What I took from that experience was what my familys work ethic had conditioned in me plus something extra, and that is: I may have gotten in the door because of affirmative action, but I stayed and advanced myself in spite of it. I didnt mind being the first token, as long as I was a qualified token.