17 and the craziness that is a lesson in race

While doing the normal weekend grocery shopping yesterday, I turn out of the bread aisle and who do I see over a display box of $1 wine?  Kenya - a guy from high school who is one of only about 2 people that I've lost contact with since leaving high school that I've often thought about and hoped he was still alive and who I would see again.  We didn't really mingle in the same group of people in high school for various reasons (a big one being he was a year behind me - what Senior on their right mind would hang out with a lowly Junior?!?).  Even with the advent of Facebook, I hadn't been able to track him down.  The fact that his name seems to be common with about a gazillion black females (even down to his last name) also didn't help if harmless stalking of the internet in general was done.

I always remember Kenya has having sparkly eyes and always smiley even with a distinctive gap between his teeth.  He had just a nice aura about him and as luck would have it, he had great taste in women.  Somehow during that school year I was enlightened with the info that he had a crush on me.  I remember on the bus ride home how he would always be watching for my bus to pass his where he would smile and give a little wave of the hand or once on the road, my bus passing his by going straight at the intersection while his turned right and headed towards the 'south side' - the area of town where most of the black people resided (and segregation ended when?).  Yes, if you haven't gathered by now...Kenya was (and still is) black. 

I'm not sure what my appeal was to that segment of the male population but he wasn't the first to have a crush on me so I could remember the conversation my mom and I had a year or two prior when another high school mate Reno, who was 2 years older and seemed to dig me even though I was aware at the time that I was too young to officially date while unaware about the legality of such things since I was under 16.  Being involved with school events, my mom had met Reno and liked him but that didn't stop her from giving 'the talk'.  Not a sex talk (I don't remember ever having one of those with her...she was probably happy to have the Health Sciences teacher do the bulk of that and she could just fill in the gaps.  It never crossed my mind to ask my dad!  *shiver*) but of the stigma that still existed when it came to interracial dating.  Sure, it wasn't the 1950's but there was still intangible 'things' that came along with interracial dating that wasn't there when you dated a white man (this was also confirmed by my cousin who was dating a black man during this time). The older I got and the more worldly experience I got, the more I saw how true that was and still is.

I would hope that no interracial couple experiences outright discrimination in this day in age but alas, I don't think the majority of people find it quite to be 'the norm' yet (a mere 25 years after my mom's talk) and that includes both the white and black cultures - people still look at interracial couples while trying not to look, people still make judgments that may or may not be true (Example: Assuming the white female only likes black men), Spike Lee and other movie directors or writers still direct/write movies and books (Jungle Fever, Waiting To Exhale) about this topic and rarely is it one without some kind of race related drama included.

Returning to yesterday's experience..when I turned the corner and saw Kenya's profile just before he turned to head my way, I got a big, silly grin on my face because from afar, he looked the same...and he was alive.  I never did ask him about his life and if he was married with kids and if/where he was working.  For some reason, just seeing him and knowing he was alive was enough.  After he saw me, he came around the $1 wine bin to where I was.  Up close though, I wondered about why his eyes were less bright and shiny and the whites were more yellow/red and why his teeth which were never great looked even worse.  We had talked about still living in the city we went to high school and he had mentioned that he had moved away for awhile but had moved back.  His appearance must have stopped me from asking him more about the reason for leaving but it stuck with me.

As I was typing this blog entry, I took a break and searched for his name in our state's Department of Corrections website.  While there wasn't a picture for complete confirmation, the age, height and weight for a guy with the same name seemed to match.  On a bright note, it didn't indicate any prison experience but he took a plea deal and is on probation for another 7 months for assault with a dangerous weapon in a school zone (I really love this website and have used it to search for more than one person if you couldn't tell).  Some of the probation conditions were for things like state and court costs, staying away from the residence and making genuine efforts to find employment.  Oddly enough, another requirement was to not possess alcohol and here I am, meeting him over a bin of $1 wine.  Luckily he didn't have anything in his hand at the time and seemed to be more walking through the beer/wine area to get to the aisle of whatever he needed.

After the short chat in which I also introduced him to Big A, we departed.  Not exchanging numbers or email addresses (and he said that he's not on Facebook...but I still have hope that one day he will be) but hopefully running into someone who was so happy to see him put a little bounce in his step as it did mine and maybe we will run into each other again...but probably not in a school zone.