Playin' Hard (Original version)

Five

         "Sometimes culture goes along with ethnic background, would you agree?" Mr. Donatelli asked.

         A few of us murmured in agreement to speed things along.

         Mr. Donatelli hummed, stroking his chin. "Interesting. Fashion, film, music and language goes along with culture, doesn't it?"

         Again we agreed.

         Mr. Donatelli looked at all of us, studying each row of desks. "Let's examine African American culture."

         Here we go. Despite the fact that I hated the term "African American," the last thing I wanted to do was discuss the culture I was allegedly a part of. If there was one thing I knew in my short seventeen years on the planet, it was that black culture was popular, black people weren't. When it came to fashion, language and every aspect of our culture, other people had no problem copying us and going along. Preppy white girls went around saying cray-cray, yet wouldn't sit next to the next Kanye West if their life depended on it.

         But then again, it seemed more and more, that white was the new black as far as "African American" men or boys were concerned in the dating department.

         Did I want to discuss the continuous downfall of my people? No.

         "Let's face it, this school is predominantly African American, I would say that is the most influential culture Moorehead has."

         Looking around the room filled with various shades of brown skin, there was no denying the fact.

         "I see what you guys wear, hear what you listen to, how you talk—actually, that's brings me to a good topic," said Mr. Donatelli. "Now the N-word—"

         The class was in an uproar before he could get the rest of his thoughts out.

         Mr. Donatelli sat back and crossed his arms. "Perhaps some of you would like to speak on it?"

         All at once people started speaking, some daring Mr. Donatelli to say it, others watching with guarded eyes to see if he'd utter such an offense, and some speaking against or for it.

         DeAndre raised his hand, properly gaining permission to speak. "It's funny how you don't see any other race teaching their youth to use the racial slurs against them to each other casually, yet some blacks feel the need to continue on the hate. When I was a kid I said it once and my grandmomma whooped me and told me never to say it again. She told me that people died hearing those words and for that I just don't say it. It's about respect for the past and perseverance for the future."

         It was times when he spoke so eloquently that I felt like I didn't really know who DeAndre was more than the already present mystery that was at hand.

         Arrogant Balla or not, I agreed with everything he said. We learned about the Holocaust and the Japanese Internment and yet their youths did not grow up to speak the slanderous slurs that had been tossed the way of their elders. Mr. Donatelli was wrong in choosing "African American" as a topic, our culture had its ups and downs, and a lot of it started with its own people.

         Mr. Donatelli commended DeAndre as the bell rang. "I like that. I wanna study this more. I'm thinking of assigning a paper to pairs to see how you would define your culture and what it means to you. Ten pages, due at the end of the grading period. It's either that or a final exam, up to you. See you Monday, class dismissed."

         He was basically giving us an optional way out of studying for exams, though I was sure the paper wouldn't be that easy if he expected us to type out ten pages. Thank God for double space.