"Don't call me mixed, dude, for your information, I identify as black," I said to the wannabe super-fly Latino dude in the Durag who stepped up to me. That fateful morning, I was at Bayview Station, waiting for the O-Train which would take me to the Carleton University campus. After hollering at me in Spanish, a language I do not speak, the bozo finally decided to try English, and by then it was too late. I don't like to be questioned about my ethnicity. At the end of the day, I'm a Canadian woman and a citizen of the world. It's 2016, get with the program, fools!
My name is Gina Aurelius, and I was born in the City of Cleveland, Ohio, to a Haitian immigrant father, Jean-Michel Aurelius, and a white American mother, Nicole Thompson. Five-foot-ten, curvy, with long, curly black hair and almond-shaped golden brown eyes, I'm a caramel-hued Amazonian diva with a sassy mouth. People say that I look like Hollywood actress Jill Scott, only a bit lighter. I don't see the resemblance but I don't mind the comparison since Sister Jill is lovely and talented, just not as much as I am. Oh, and I'm also a magnet for trouble, as you can see.
"Yo, shorty, don't get an attitude with me, you are not all that," Mr. Latino replied haughtily, and I looked him up and down. Short guys and their attitudes, man. I don't know why I thought it was only guys in Cleveland who acted like crabs when a sister didn't feel like talking to them. The way I figure it, male insecurity is a global problem. Look at the state of the world today if you don't believe me.
Like I said before, I was born and raised in the City of Cleveland, Ohio. Recently I moved to the City of Ottawa, Ontario, to study civil engineering at Carleton University. Felt like I needed a chance of scenery. I fell in love with the Canadian Capital last year when I visited it for my paternal aunt Agnes Aurelius wedding to Mr. Elmi, a local Somali businessman. I still like the City of Ottawa, but no matter where one goes, slime balls are still the same. I glared at the creep and was about to cuss him out when someone beat me to it.
"Watch how you speak to the lady," said a deep, masculine voice, and I gasped as a towering dark-skinned brother stepped forward. This dude had to be six-foot-five at the very least. Squaring his broad shoulders, this vision of masculine strength and beauty stood between me and Mr. Latino, who then flashed a fake smile and backed away. The fool acted the way most passive-aggressive creeps in the Ottawa area do when someone challenges their bullshit. No balls, man.
"My bad, dude, no need to make this an issue, I was just leaving," Mr. Latino said, to the brother, who glared at him angrily, and with that, the fool walked away. Only then did the brother relax. I looked at my unexpected savior, who nodded gracefully, and said nothing. Clad in a bright red silk shirt, black silk pants and black steel-toe boots, the brother looked real good. I smiled at him and nodded, and before I could say anything, the train pulled up. Damn, do I have lousy timing or what? Um, don't answer that.
"Sorry about this fool," the tall brother said, and he waited until I got on, and then entered the train compartment, like a gentleman. I smiled thankfully, and wondered if he'd sit near me, but he remained standing in the main area even as the train doors closed. Holding onto the hand rail, he checked his watch as the train left the station. Sitting in the comfy middle section, I had a clear line of sight towards the doors, near which the brother stood.
