Train Tracks and Slave Ships
23 Dec 2010 Leave a Comment
in Uncategorized
For the past fourteen years or so, I have been crossing the train tracks on a daily basis. I come from one place, many of the people that I deal with come from another. A world where I am guest, but never a member, a place where I feel inferior.
As a society, we all try to live up to expectations to which might exceed our actual thoughts or beliefs. Why? Does it have to do with the media, music and capitalist America, sure but, for me it starts much closer to home. I was brought up to live life to the fullest and to be thankful for the things that I have. Was I a spoiled brat at most times, of course! I was brought up with little frivolity in my life, such as big screen tv’s, the latest technology etc. I still do not even own an Ipod!! My values stem from having a stong sense of family and togetherness. My daydreams did not include getting a nice car or getting new sneakers, my thoughts were always something different.
Walking on the other side of the tracks makes me feel inferior. I always feel that I need to watch what I say, watch what I do and how I act. I feel looked down upon almost everytime that I cross the tracks. I feel like I need to be something that I am not, wear my hair a certain way, dress in a special manner, and just do…never think. We are all accustom to living with some type of routine, but as soon as I step away from the norm, I am viewed as a fucking crazy person. I have always been persecuted for my thoughts and opinions because they are outside of the box or they go against the grain. I do not consider myself to be a weirdo or abnormal, I am just me and the people on the other side of the tracks cannot or will not realize and appreciate that.
On some days, I can relate my thoughts to that of the conditions of a slave ship. Maybe I am not physically beaten or shackled, but over the years my mind has been beaten into submission and my thoughts have been shackled and tamed. Though the conditions are bad, the stong survive and make it to the final destination. The only difference is that I will not be sold into slavery, to do someone elses bidding.
Some might view me as inferior because of my race, the nappiness of my hair, the lack of a Master’s degree, the fact that I work with underprivileged students, the fact that I was not married when I had a child, the fact that I am not married already or for the most irksome fact of all; the fact that I do not want to be like everyone else. I would like to say sorry to the people on the other side of the tracks, sorry that I cannot live up to your expectations and meet your needs.
At the end of the day when I have a moment to walk back to my side of the railroad tracks, my mind is at peace. I can breathe, take off the shackles and be free of the mental beating. My path which I walk everyday is worn and ragged, I need a different route, I need emancipation of mental slavery.
