Ebony Edgelord

I've been staring at this post for half an hour so far. I've been reminded of some moments from my past and it takes a while to blow the dust off sometimes - Takes longer to figure out how I seem to immediately know what I want to touch on.

My background and perspectives are somewhat unique as an individual, so it may even almost be a "responsibility" for me to use that voice for once. That alone is worth something, I suppose.

I could use some words of encouragement, as I am feeling defeated.

I don't know if this will be encouraging, per se, but I'd like to wax poetic upon some people from my past; people who lived their lives in a similar space as you.

But first, me. I may say or share some things that won't seem appropriate or genuine without this context. I grew up in a dual-race household in an area where white kids often speak Ebonics first, English second. I was part of a white minority in one of the few places in the US where this is even possible and while that was not always easy for me, I value it as part of my identity.

I wasn't just "there", I was "in it". I think OP will understand easily, but other readers might not. I'm familiar with modern black culture because it was my culture until I left the nest. (And still is, just quiet and foundational.)

This isn't about me though, but I'm open to questions later.

This is about my "Ebony Edgelord".

She was a rocker. Metal, Hot Topic, Invader Zim - If you know this style, you know our ages. She was the black sheep of her family. I was into similar things and was also a rebel, also a black sheep of my family.

Thinking back, we had a lot more in common than I realized. Dual cultures, inverted and in alignment. We were outcast through the behaviors we avoided, the beliefs we avoided. I was a bad boy, she was a good girl. Both "wrong" even when we knew we were Right.

She was beautiful. She was the most intelligent black woman I had yet seen.

(OP aside, if someone thinks that sounds "messed up" for me to say, it's because you don't understand how sad that is yet. This is what OP is talking about.)

The time we spent together showed me a lot about the world, about our shared half-cultures. I had already learned systemic racism firsthand years prior after being pulled over while driving with my (step) brothers, but the anger I felt at the police was not equivalent to the deep shame on her face whenever I happened to catch a glimpse what she was trying to grow away from, to grow out of - Like a flower.

I stopped by her house once, just briefly, and her uncle (guardian) made it very clear that I was not welcome, alluded to white devils while making declarations that she is a sinner - demands for her to attend church the next day. He wasn't mean to me, not even threatening - Rude, yeah, but he stayed out of sight in another room.

It wasn't about me - It was about using me to shame her into returning to the fold. I can still see her face in my mind, apologizing with her eyes in that dim hallway. She needed the apology more than I did, but I didn't have the capability yet.

Cousins and friends-of-friends of hers were met, they'd tease her for being "white" without remarking on my situation-appropriate ebonic-flourish and Slipknot shirt. That sort of thing was common. I saw it at school before we first talked. I thought it was brave of her. And it was. It was very sad to see that best part about her as her was belittled, disregarded, or declared to be a betrayal - both in serious and "playful" tones.

I was embedded in the fabric of that time and knew it as unfortunate, even terrible. The impact feels different now.

Not "whitewashed", intelligent! Creative, different, free to move and brave enough to take a step. She had less "white" things than I had "black" things. The rest is just... Fashion, music, academia.

The stereotypical anti mixed-couple situations would happen too. I expected it (home), but they wouldn't mess with me. I'm scary, but this was not a "safe area". She got the looks, the scoffs.

She could never win. She was just a teenager, just as I was.

And the strangest thing is... Never pain, no anger. Just shame; As if I was the one being hurt by seeing these things rather than her. And I suppose I can understand it too. I'm just not sure if I can explain it.

We weren't together long. I wasn't a good person back then. And when we got together again, I was worse in a sense - Half-transformed, limping on disproportionate philosophies yet moving forward. Forward without her.

She was a better person than me - I wouldn't be surprised if she still is. Like mentioned above, I feel that our polarities were inverted yet aligned. Another dimension comes to mind... I spent much of my youth fighting against the world. She spent much of her youth with the world fighting her. Still, both of us tore at the same cage in different ways. We rebelled together, apart. My fight was hard, but hers may have been harder.

If this tangent was about me, I'd explain how I transcended my developmental foundation as well, but this is her story - I'm just a necessary bit of context.

I hope I did her some justice here. I hope she's well.

So...I'm not entirely sure what this writing is or what it means or if there's a purpose at all. OP doesn't need to understand that I "get it" and it's probably not useful for her to know that a teenage girl like herself once existed in my past.

I suppose that it's half recollection, half reflection. Memorial? I don't know. There were some teary-eyed moments, but maybe I'm just tired. Or maybe I'm just untapping corks from my youth which have been left to gather dust for over a decade.

I was reminded of this by OP's situation, her thoughts. They were immediately familiar and I immediately knew why. This has taken me an hour or two, but I found it worthwhile. Prior to this comment I knew it was my past - Now I know it well.

I'm cautious to submit this because I don't expect some people to understand. I've seen't some shit... Oh well. The right ones will, I'm sure.