A lot of Black guys have this image thing where they act tough and talk even tougher. For a lot of them, it's their way of dealing with a world that's hostile to them. As a Black woman living in the City of Toronto, Ontario, I can definitely relate. Canada isn't always friendly to minorities, especially those of us who happen to be of African descent. I was born in Jamaica and raised in the Greater Toronto Area, so I know what I'm talking about. Even though I experience my share of frustration with the brothers, I still have much love for them.
I attend the University of Toronto, where I study criminal justice. One of these days, I'm going to become a police officer. I've often been told that I've got the physique for it, this coming from conservative Jamaicans who don't think women ought to be able to do certain jobs like construction and police work. I've five-foot-ten, and weigh two hundred and ten pounds. I'm dark-skinned, chubby and big-bottomed, and damn proud of every inch of my body. I know a lot of sisters with body image issues. Not me. While it's not easy being a large Black woman in a world that worships skinny White chicks, I always carry myself with confidence and grace. Black is beautiful, suckers better recognize!
I've always been a no-nonsense woman who doesn't suffer fools. It hasn't won me many friends, I'll tell you that much right now. Still, there's something to be said about being an honest woman in a world full of fake people who sugar coat things in front of you and say nasty stuff behind your back. There's a time to speak up and a time to keep your mouth shut, though. My classmate Augustine Leconte should have heeded that warning, seriously. He's a short, light-skinned dude I met during my first year at the University of Toronto. Augustine is around five-foot-eight, slim, with light brown skin, curly Black hair and pale green eyes. His father is Black and his mother is Hispanic. Dude thinks he's all that because he's light-skinned and his parents have money.
On top of having a chip on his shoulder, Augustine also thinks he's all that and then some. One time, I was hanging out at the food court on campus and he got into an argument with my girlfriend Shanice and her friend Jerome Lopez. Augustine, the civil engineering student who only dates White women seemed to have a problem with Shanice dating a Puerto Rican guy. I called Augustine out on his bullshit, and I guess since that day, he's had it in for me. Whenever he sees me, he's always running his mouth, calling me a sellout and shit. Once, he crossed the line by calling me a fat bitch and I retaliated by smacking the damn fool on his mouth. Nobody calls me that. I don't care who you are. If you cross the line with me, I will fuck you up.
Ever since that day, Augustine has become somewhat more respectful in his dealings with me. He was so brazen before. One day he actually manned up and walked up to me, with the intention of setting things straight. He apologized for his behavior, and I apologized for hitting him. I am not a violent person I swear. Don't call me any racial slurs, don't make fun of my weight and don't disrespect me as a woman and we'll be just fine. Is that too much to ask? I don't think so. Augustine and I made up, so to speak, and we became cool. He even invited me to some of his rap events. Augustine wants to be a rapper. He can't rap worth a damn and his lyrics sound horrible but as his friend I honestly tried to be supportive. If you tell your buddy he sucks, what kind of friend are you? I'm usually brutally honest but I don't take pleasure in crushing people's dreams. That's cruel and that's not how I roll.
