Dancehall Queen

Happy Canadian Thanksgiving, everyone! And also a very happy birthday to myself this weekend.

Yep. Another year older, another year wiser, another year of random bullshit people try to pull.

One of my very oldest and closest friends, we’ll call him Rob, insisted on taking me out on the town to celebrate my age being a palindrome. Obviously I said yes because you can’t say no to Toronto’s gay village. Or to Rob. Let’s be honest, the boy has skills like a lawyer.

I got myself casually dolled up for the occasion and we met up with 2 of his other friends for dinner at a sushi restaurant. I swear to God our server had never seen black folk in her entire life before. She was so excited when we finished all our food and paid the WHOLE bill. Seemed like some kind of paranoid/post-traumatic stress disorder shit to me. That sushi was fucking delicious, though.

I’d be a liar if I said this was what we actually ordered

Our peachy little friendship crew headed over to the club, which filled up quickly half an hour after arriving. We were having a great time dancing away when a man who was dancing in close proximity to our drunken tomfoolery approached us. He first spoke to the other girl in our group and then came up to me.

“Hi! My name is (Dave)!”

“Oh hey, Dave! It’s nice to meet you! I’m Timmi!” I danced to the blaring club tunes as we exchanged conversation. Ain’t nobody getting in the way of me shaking my groove thing. I assumed he was gay anyway. I am yet to see a straight man walk up into a gay bar alone.

“I’m Colombian!” he gestured to himself as I noticed his heavy accent. So he was. “What is your background?”

“I’m Jamaican!” I screamed back over Rihanna’s auto-tuned wailing.

I figured that because this man also shared a non-Anglo Saxon North American background, he would just leave it at that. What in fuck’s name he said next I still can’t believe.

“Oh that’s cool! You don’t dance like you’re white!” he said with a big stupid grin smeared across his face.

Hold the fuck up. What?

“HIiiiiiiiiiiiiii! I’m Jenny!”

Ok, I know I don’t take a lot of photos but I know for damn sure the girl in the image above is NOT me. I don’t dance like I’m white? What the fuck is that supposed to mean, you dirty sack of shit? Was the light glaring from my teeth so much that you couldn’t tell I’m not white? It’s not like my name is Beyoncé Knowles or anything.

Listen, Dave. Sharpen some pencils and fall on them. Best birthday present ever.



I figured that the “Shit People Say to Me Because I Am Black” section could get “controversial” so I would like to make one thing clear: this is NOT written with the intent of making any sort of impact on racial and social hierarchies in my community or in others. In fact, I have no interest in arguing with anyone about “injustices”. This does not mean that I do not welcome intelligent and thoughtful comments. By all means, tell me how you feel! However, this does mean that I do not give a single fuck if you think I am a racist. I lack the energy for the bullshit that is attacking others for things about themselves they cannot change.

Now you, dear reader, might wonder why I’m even talking about my ethnicity if it “doesn’t really matter anyway”; why attract more attention to the bull in the china shop? I have realised over the course of my very short 21 years that people’s curiosity, ignorance, lack of goddamn sense have inadvertently introduced me to awkward and highly inappropriate racial conversations. I first noticed in high school when other students began calling me “Oreo” and thought they were paying me a compliment with fuckery like, “I really like you because you’re not like other black people.” Then it finally dawned on me: “God Almighty, I am surrounded by great minds who have learned first-hand that black is a personality type.” Of course! It all makes sense now! How presumptuous of me to have thought it was within my racial boundaries to attend university, employ words with more than two syllables, enjoy music other than hip-hop and rap, and not like watermelon (too many seeds…)! Clearly, all this makes me less black and, therefore, more likeable to non-blacks. In fact, I’m so keen on not being black that I’m going to go out and bleach my skin tomorrow!

For anyone who still wants to believe this is an “angry black woman” attack on white people/ search for racism, I’d like to take the time to address that I was adopted by a very loving, white Canadian family. So if you’re an idiot and let me know it, don’t be surprised when a story about you is published on the blog.

Cheers =)