crises
rU never forget the first time a
white child pulled on my hair and
4 asked me why my hair felt Idee a.
Briilo pad, and how come there
weren’t rubber bands or barrettesat
I the ends or my
braids? Why |
wasn’t I the
same color as
my mom? Why
this, why that,
how came...
finally I got so
frustrated that I
poured my
on his head and yelled, ‘There! Now
you’re black, too!”
In junior high school in Elkhom,
once again, I was the only black
person in school. My very first
progress report claimed that I was
adjusting extremely well to my new
school. Of course, I only tried to rat
and crimp my hair in the privacy of
my own home. Once 1 tried to wear
an oversized sweater with a tank top
—you remember, like Madonna
used to? My mom gave me a kiss on
the cheek and dropped me off, right
before reminding me that I wasn’t
white.
We went to a black Catholic
church, and for a while I was really
confused—white during the week,
and black on the weekends. I didn’t
even bother going to dances—all I
What couldn’t be smoothed was the fact
-
that, after awhile, I realized that none of
the little boys I went to school with would
ever be my ‘boyfriend’ or invite me to a
dance—not that I blame them.”
could dowas the Jerk, and my mom
had taught me that, so Iknew it
wasn’t cool.
Patiently, my mom watched me
struggle to live in both worlds. On
one hand, I was getting a great
education, but I didn’t have anyone I
could identify with at school. Mom
made sure I knew what Kwaanza
was, and taught me to be proud of
my Mack heritage, and God knows
“The Cosby Show” smoothed a lot of
rough spots.
What couldn’t be smoothed was
the fact that, after a while, I realized
that none of the little boys 1 went to
school with would ever be my
“boyfriend” or invite me to a dance
—not that 1 blame them. Elkhom
Middle School was tough enough if
you didn’t have Guess jeans—
forget dealing with breaking the race
barrier.
Everyone experiences low self
esteem and fear of rejection at some
point in their lives. Dealing with
these issues combined with racial
tension and misunderstanding makes
it even more difficult. More difficult
still is being brainwashed into
thinking that white is right and only
blondes can be beautiful.
I remember when Mattel first
came out with an African-American
Barbie doll, man, I was excited. Until
I realized that she was exactly the
same as white Barbie, except in
chocolate flavor. Her nose was even
the same.
You know what that said to me at
age 11? That I could be beautiful and
successful and desirable—as long
as I was just like a white girl. When
Vanessa Williams became Miss
America, I placed a big photo of her
on my locker. When Maijorie
Vincent became Miss America, I put
up an even bigger one—because
America had finally realized that a
dark-skinned black woman could be
our ideal as well . If the Miss
America competition is any indica
tion, we as a society may be on the
right track, since we’ve also had a
deaf Miss America. Of course, it’s
hard to be sure what’s going on with
all this politically correct crap. I
mean, the next year was Miss
Oklahoma—can you say Oklahoma
bombing?
When I came to college and saw
all the interracial couples, I thought it
was great—until I found it difficult
to get a brother to speak to me some
days, much less ask me out. For
those who don’t know, it’s polite to
speak when you see a fellow African
American. My favorite is when I see
a black male with a white female and
he deliberately averts his eyes. While
I’m mature enough to know that I’m
beautiful just the color I am, it’s still
a little disappointing.
The number one excuse in
Nebraska fbr cultural ignorance is
“But, I was raised in an all-white
town!”
Guess what, baby, so was I. What’s
your excuse?
Hollimon is a senior broadcast
ing major and a Daily Nebraskan
columnist.
* J V V
Anthony
NGUYEN
; * v .HiJCJ
. - ‘;, ^ r ’ ‘ a ' " -
With the recent controversial
opening of an archaeological tunnel
in east Jerusalem near Muslim and
Jewish holy sites, the spectre of
violence has again reared its ugly
■hhmihmhh' head. In the
ensuing nots,
more than 70
lives were lost,
as erne side felt
opening the
tunnel was
harmless, and
the other side
felt the tunnel
wasapower
The hastily arranged summit in
Washington, D.C., has donenothing
to alleviate the tension in the area—
where the ability to be stubborn is
considered virtuous. All the princi
pals in this drama are still on a path
^iralling to nowhere fast. Perhaps
it’s time to take drastic measures.
What measures am 1 talking about
here? Well, like, move everyone out
of Jerusalem and drop a low-yield
nuclear device on it—or level the
city with a big-ass bulldozer. Might
seem too harsh, but that area of the
world is still a bite-in-our-collective
asses waiting to happen.
Well, at the very least, deny
everyone the privilege (it’s not a
right) of living there. Make it into a
Disneyland of religion (not with rides
per se, but where people can only
visit, not reside). Draconian and
impractical? Yes. Crazy idea? No, ,
not really.
OK, so dropping a bon* to * r
66-——
Jerusalem holds import for three major
religions of the world: Judaism, Islam
and Christianity. And it’s also a city
where perhaps more blood has been
spilled per square inch than any other
city — all to be able to claim rights to
dirf.”
destroy a city won’t solve all of the
animosity built up over generations
of distrust and failed promises. But
Jerusalem, the city, actually plays a
large role in this tension.
Being a Roman Catholic, it pains
me tono end to take this stance.
Jerusalem holds import for three
maior religions of the world:
Judaism, Islam and Christianity. And
it’s also a city where perhaps more
blood has been spilled per square
inch than any other city—all to be
able to claim rights to dirt. That’s
right—dirt. Remove all of the
religious connotations of Jerusalem
and that’s all that’s left. Dirt.
Sure there are intrinsic religious
qualities to Jerusalem—the struc- v
tures and artifacts, monuments to the
past.
But there are intrinsic qualities in
other aspects of religion, too.
Finding the Holy Grail would add
another pillar in my faith for Roman
Catholicism. But if having the Grail
means killing one another over
generations, it’s time to destroy it—
or at least blast it into space so no
one can claim they have it. As long
as it exists and is an achie vable
“objective,” someone, somewhere
out there will want to fight for it—
and sacrilegiously “in God’s name.”
It’s a simplified view, but pretty
damn close to tile way I feel. And
that’s what’s going on in Jerusalem.
AH the parties involved claim rights
to the land dating to biblical times.
But that’s just it: land. The argument
is that God has told (me party to have
that land—or that members of
another party have claims to it
because they have been there for so
long. . M&fc#
I just have a bard time swallowing
this pill. I believe in God. I believe in
God’s (whether God is a He or She, I
don’t care) power.
See, my view is that God is a
scientist. God set the spark of the big
bang and sat back and watched. A
being as powerful as Creator of the
universe doesn’t need to have land
claimed in God’s name. God is
powerful enough to make the
universe, so why should a tract of
land matter?
I’ve always felt that fighting for a
cause is a noble idea. But when it
involves destroying one another
because of a difference in belief, it’s
ridiculous.
A lot of us believe in one supreme
being, and even if we don’t, we
pretty much agree that killing one
another is pointless. But the name by
which we address the Creator matters
not But some of us feel strongly
enough to kill in our Maker’s name.
Not right.
If we are all truly the result of an
all-powerful being, then why do we
go about as if this isn’t true? I’m sick
and tired of people misusing religion
to further their own physical greed or
ego-stroking.
I don’t profess to speak for any
higher moral authority. But a being
such as God couldn’t be pleased with
our actions. This past week more 70
lives were lost because of fighting
over a city. lives wasted.
is a senior biochemistry