Here I thought my stripping days were long gone secretly tucked away as one of the most lively times in my life, sweat and glitter were the main frame of my existence during those days. Loved the facial expressions on the bank tellers face when I would come and deposit hundreds in a series of ones , fives and twenties (Those were on a good night when the geriatric fanboys would come in). This past weekend though I got to relive those days after my friend thought it would be funny to push me up on stage when the drag queen called for 5 guys. I had tried to walk back to my spot, but she snatched me up quicker then Sweet Brown raaan out her house cuase’ she had brooonchitis lol.
She quickly announced it was time for the amateur stripper contest and I just shook my head in shame and excitement haha… we danced and hooray for me I won. I think my tattoos and bootyless Miley Cyrus twerking abilities stole the show (Where the hell was my husband Robin Thick!) I was up $75 for winning can’t be mad at that! She then announced “Everyone give a round of applause to the 4 white boys and the Mexican (referring the most brown skin guy up on stage)”…. I looked at her and said “I am not WHITE!” in a joking manor….and not that I was that offended, its just my race has been in question practically my whole life; except in grades k-4 where ESL classes took up the majority of my day. I’m most certain this is where they beat the Hispanic accent out of me.
My racial identity has always struck a chord with me, especially when it came to making friends in school. I was never Spanish enough for the Latino kids in school and never White enough for the White kids in school. Im like the gay boy version of Mariah Carey minus the vocal prowess (I really did identify with her and her racial identity crisis growing up. Her album “Rainbow” helped me through some tough times). My mother is of Italian, Spanish, El Salvadorian decent and my father a typical El Salvadorian/ Spanish mix….when fused together you get me! A sun kissed Carmel euro-fusion skin head with big lips and tattoos. I have been labeled just about every race in the book: White, Black (she said I had big lips so I must be black I didn’t know whether to be offended or disgusted by her racial profiling), Pilipino, Greek, French, “Mixed”…etc. I just laugh because it’s funny to me that people feel the need to put me a racial category for their own personal satisfaction.
After I completed high school in an all black school in Washington D.C. (This is where I found some sort of identity in the world thanks to the lifelong friendships I made) I learned that I don’t need to fit into any box and if someone feels the need to place me in one….Just let them. Just don’t call me white …. That just sounds boring to me. Im a majestic multicultural unicorn you’re just lucky to have bore witness to such beauty…..lol
P.S. If you take 2 different colored eggs and smash them on the ground, you will see that they are both the same on the inside…. The soul is the yolk of our existence and we all posses one.