Three Strikes and I'm Out

Three Strikes and I’m Out

You might be wondering why I have chosen the title Three Strikes and I’m Out, well; the reason is because this is how I feel living here in what I consider “Rural-Ville” Indiana.

I was born and raised on what is considered the “South Side” of Chicago, Illinois. In Chicago, we capitalize South Side because we are very proud of our history and background from each of our neighborhoods, and whether you are from the North Side, the South Side, the East Side, or the West Side, that is how we all roll in Chi-town.

I eventually ended up moving to Northwest Indiana, to the city of Hammond, but it is so close to Illinois that it is considered to be part of the surrounding, metropolitan, Chicago area.

From the time that I was born, I have lived in very diverse areas. I was exposed to virtually a melting pot of ethnic groups; and by the way, I am multi-racial. My father is African-American or “black” as it is generally referred as, and Mexican; and my mother is Caucasian or “white” as most people have a tendency to refer to that particular complexion.

I don’t identify singularly with either “black” or “white”, or even Hispanic. I consider myself to be of all those nationalities, because that is who I am; regardless of the color of my skin, the texture of my hair, or the size of my lips, nose and “butt”. In "Rural-Ville" however, based on my experiences so far, this seems to be the first strike against me.

I moved to New Castle, Indiana in August of 2007. Prior to this, in February of the same year, I began dating someone that I’d met via Internet dating. She and I, yes, I said she, oh, and yes, I’m gay, did I forget to mention that? And based on personal experience, this would be strike two for me here in the “Rural-Ville” Bible belt.

Anyway, as I was saying, we’d started dating, and by the third week of June, we both decided to move in together. How cliché, I know. That is what we lesbians do, we meet, we date for a period of time, and then we end up U-Hauling it. It’s listed in all the manuals and brochures! Take a look to see for yourself!

The first things I noticed in New Castle were the corn fields. Are they sure there is more than corn in Indiana? There were also soybean fields, as well as many cows, horses, pigs, goats, sheep, chickens, llamas, and alpaca’s… what in the world is an alpaca? They kind of look like llamas to me, but what do I know? I am from “up North” as my partner says.

My partner told me we lived in the city limits; city limits? What is she talking about? Around the corner from her property, there are fields and many of the aforementioned animals, again I say, this is the city? And where by God are all of the sidewalks?

As the summer progressed, I noticed many things. Many people have a drawl in the dialect here. Words like I reckon, and I “cain’t” instead of I can’t, or “like ‘at” instead of like that, flow abundantly from many mouths, and son of a bitch, has turned into “sumbitch”. This isn’t a problem however; I actually think it’s rather endearing, and believe me, I’ve been asked “You’re not from around here, are you?” and “You’re from up North ain’tcha?” enough times to know that my dialect is very different as well.

There was another thing that I noticed in New Castle, where are all the black folks, Hispanics, Asians and such here? I asked my partner. Well, she said, they are here, you just don’t see them. What? That in itself isn’t very funny, but when she said it I actually chuckled and said, you have to be kidding right? She wasn’t.

What a treat for me when we went to the Mexican restaurant, Los Amigos for lunch one day! There were actual Mexicans in the restaurant! Albeit, they were serving in the restaurant, however there were no Hispanic families actually eating in the restaurant.

This was very odd to me, in my neck of the woods, in a Mexican restaurant; you see many ethnicities enjoying the cuisine, especially the nationality of said cuisine! You should have seen the look of shock on our servers face as I ordered my meal in Spanish, and then explained to him, also in Spanish that “Hola, soy de Chicago, no de aquí. Mi padre soy a medias mexicano y a medias el Negro, que es porqué hablo español.” Which translates to: Hello, I am from Chicago, not from here. My father is half black and half Mexican, which is why I speak Spanish.

He seemed as shocked to hear Spanish with the correct dialect come from my lips as I was to actually see another human being of a different ethnicity in the area! This is why I felt the need to explain to him that I was not quite of the same cloth as those that he may have come across before. The server smiled at me and I smiled in return, it was a connection, a kind of kinship, and that small gesture made me feel very much at home...

I didn’t start meeting any other people with different ethnicities until I began college in August, 2007. I decided to go back to school to attain a degree in Nursing. I began attending Indiana University East in Richmond, Indiana, but even there, there were very few people of different races, the campus was predominantly of the Caucasian persuasion.

Regardless of this, in classes where there were a few people of different ethnicities and cultures, I found the atmosphere very pleasant. Everyone seemed to get along quite well, and I did not feel the walls of prejudicial bigotry, until I began working in the child development center at the school.

There, the center was run by a Caucasian woman who felt the need to jokingly point out racial differences in the individuals who worked there, with things like “That must be a black thing huh?” and in front of us as well! I am a pretty up front person, so when I told her one day that I was not only of black ancestry, but gay as well, her jaw dropped in surprise.

The other individuals that worked in the center that were African-American never let this woman know that her remarks were unnecessary and made us uncomfortable. I couldn’t understand why. On more than one occasion, prior to my telling her who and what I was, she would often say things in a hushed tone to me, such as, “I can never understand those people, do I have to learn an entirely different language?”

My assumption is that this woman felt comfortable with me because of the color of my skin, hair and eyes, so when I let her in on my “dirty little secret”, she did a complete about face with me. From then on, the comments did not include joking remarks regarding race in my presence, but they were now directed toward my being a lesbian. Strike two strikes again here in “Rural-Ville”.

They were small, indirect things of course; things that one might be able to brush off in annoyance once or twice; but they occurred every time that I was in her presence; and I did not find her comments, regardless of how small, funny. In fact, they were outright ignorant, and this was a director of a child development center?

My co-workers and I discussed this on several occasions, but they felt it was out of their hands, what could they do? they said. I felt completely different. She doesn’t know who she’s dealing with! I said. I’m from Chi-town! We all laughed at this of course, and I didn’t want to cause any trouble for my co-workers, but I just couldn’t even begin to try to understand why were they allowing this to continue?

I eventually wrote a resignation letter and addressed the letter not only to her, but to her boss as well. I stated how I felt and why, and suggested the director be retrained in an ethics class. Nothing ever came of this; I guess the school did not feel it warranted any affirmative action.

I feel better for my actions however, and that is all that is important to me now. I cannot change everyone, people choose to be who they are, but if you work in a situation where there are so many touchy ethical issues, keep your negative opinions within your own circles and don’t bring them into my open minded space if you please. I did what I felt I had to do, and sometimes just speaking out brings forth empowerment in itself.

I also came across an instructor in an Art class that I’d taken that seemed was pretty biased against women. He never seemed to interact with any of the women in the class, and whenever a female hand was raised, he just never seemed to actually see those hands.

I am a very observant individual, and being the person that I am, I decided to call him on it one day, just to affirm if it were just my imagination. There were already several male students gathered around his podium going over assignments, etc., and it was early. We were all still getting settled in our seats and there were still several minutes to spare.

I stepped forward after the others had finished their discussions, and asked him a question regarding one of my assignments, and was taken aback when he abruptly stated, much to my surprise and embarrassment, “Ms. Jackson, can’t you see we are about to start lecture? If you need further information with regard to the assignment, make an appointment to see me in my office!”

Needless to say, I was very embarrassed. Red faced, I went back to my seat, mumbling an unwarranted apology. I guess this would be strike three for my being a woman here again in “Rural-Ville!”

I am ashamed to say that I did nothing with regard to this incident. Why you might ask? I believe it has to do with wanting the best grade possible. I could stand up to my boss at the child development center because she after all, had nothing to do with whether I received an “A” in a class.

I stayed at Indiana University East for three semesters, but because I moved from New Castle to Muncie, Indiana, it was just too long of a drive. I decided to finish my prerequisite courses at Ivy Tech Community College in Muncie.

I am pretty content with the curriculum here. I really like the diversity of the campus, and the instructors. I have to say however that there are still predominantly Caucasian individuals in most of my classes, but here again I do not feel any prejudicial walls of bigotry, that is until I spent some time in my English 112 class.

I do not feel any racial bias in this class, there is, after all one young man in the class that is African-American, and then of course there is me. To look at me however, with my blond hair (now red), green eyes, and light complexion, I don’t blame anyone for their assumptions, but I say to you, never judge a person by the color of their skin, but by the content of their character!

The thing I feel the most in this particular class from a few individuals is their animosity toward homosexuality. I have heard a number of people in the class state their opinions with regard to this subject and I have to honestly say that these comments make me uncomfortable.

I do not wear a sign that identifies me as a lesbian, nor do I fit the typical stereotype of what a lesbian is “supposed” to look like. I wear make-up and jewelry, much of the time and regardless of my sexual preference, I personally identify with being a woman.

Everyone is entitled to their own opinions, thoughts and preferences, and I have my own as well, but I do not voice those opinions unless they are warranted, and they are usually not directed negatively toward anyone with the intent to do harm.

I wrote this paper with the approval of our instructor, and it is basically a kind of hello, this is who I am, I would really appreciate it if we would all just mind our own manners kind of thing. We all chose to be in college to explore the many possibilities that a higher education can bring, and one of those possibilities is how we might be able to have a positive impact on ourselves, others and quite possibly the world in which we all reside.

Thank you for opportunity to practice my impact on others by listening to what I have had to say. The title of my paper is Three Strikes and I’m Out? That is the question, and my answer is absolutely not, I'm out and very proud.