When Kunta Met Kinte

I've recently discovered that I'm apparently Black.

Shuttup! I've seen my profile picture.

Don't be alarmed. It's not that I was struck blind before realizing my race or anything so simple as that. It's that my birth certificate has changed. It used to say that I was Cape Verdean, and when I last ordered a copy, my friendly local government office had changed it to Black.

This discovery has been further complicated by the fact that my mother of 44 years has recently also informed me that I am Black. I've always suspected, but there she was, just the other day, confirming it and making things so clear. The conversation in which I stumbled upon this discovery went like this:

"HAHAHAHA... Remember when I asked your brother if there were any other Black kids in his new school and he said he didn't know? How could he not know!" I did not remember this, and wondered when she'd changed races, but I digress...

"Um, Mom... You never told us we were Black. Have you recently decided?"

"What?! What do you mean? You kids didn't know?!"

"No. Why would we? You and dad never discussed it. Our neighbors were interacial couples, or hispanic, or Asian. Blacks in our neighborhood had afros and dark skin. We didn't fit any of those molds."

"Oh yeah.... I guess you kids wouldn't have known." I could hear the bright rays of dawn cracking over her pretty gray head.

I've really got to congratulate my parents on that one, intentional or otherwise. They just plain forgot to put us into a convenient little category and box.