The Mold

This part of my life has been held in for years, or at least only vented to a trusted few. It's about this mold thing. Hate it with a passion. I'm not much on fitting in and being cookie-cutter- don't think that's the way God created me to be. I'm looking at my life thus far and seeing how nothing turned out the way anyone nor myself thought it would:)
What's this illusive mold that anyone can easily become prey to at any stage of their life? They all differ- smart, pretty, devout, wealthy, Republican...hahaha. They all look different but are all the same- a mold. Which one have you tried to fit into or maintain today?
For the bigger part of my life, I have gone back and forth trying to make sense of where I belong. As a teenager, I was the only person in my immediate family that attended church. After years of 'church hopping', my mother couldn't find a place where she thought we belonged. Mostly that thought arised because of the deep prejudices and bigotry that remained in our little town. Either way, I found myself in search of a church home by myself. Seeing the backward ways of many church folk pushed me out of the church and into Wicca for 3 years. What was so strange, was that I still went in search of a church home while practicing- guess it was my way of trying to cover my tracks to my parents. Maybe I was still in love with Christ- just not his flock at the time.
Meanwhile, on my quest as the lonely searching teen, I was no longer welcomed in one church because of my skin, and then I was invited to another church. Somehow the risk of folk's rejection again did not cross my mind- I just wanted a home. So I showed up, stood at the threshold of the door, and realized as I heard the theme from Andy and Griffith in my head that this was once again, an all-white church. My mind literally said- "What the hell? Again? Okay."
Breaking it to my mother was not  great at the time, but funny now. After being taken in with much love by this new family of God, I wanted to be baptized. My mother objected and told me that I would become 'like them'. I couldn't make sense of it. A teenager, who could be out doing God knows what, has made the decision to follow Christ and be baptized. The only problem was the color of the church. I'm not sure if she was trying to look out for me so I wouldn't get hurt or what, but I was grounded from getting baptized. I laughed and went to my room to listen to music. She eventually let up and allowed me to be baptized at the church- she came and watched:) Thank you, mom. She left after I ascended from the water, and I stayed behind with friends.
Still wet from the watery grave, I was getting ready to cross the street and drive home. A truck full of guys were at a stop light as I waited to cross. When the light turned green, they yelled out, "Nigger!", and sped off into the night. I don't know who they were, but I was determined to stay where I knew I belonged. Right there on the corner of Troy and Oak, I made the decision, with tears and anger, to remain faithful- even if that meant looking again for another church to call home. Right there, I knew my world had started to collide and was coming alive.
I had no idea that the years to come would be so tumoltuous as I would try to bring things together. Most of my days were either spent being involved in school or locked in my room with nothing but my music and a bunch of tears. I felt like I was two people- a black part and a white part. I'd invite family to church, and some would ask if it was that 'white church'. I'd kindly tell them that I'm there, so it's not all white. In the meantime, there were a few members that I knew treated me like I was a charity case- the poor token black girl. The exhaustion of running back and forth put me in an emotional, spiritual, and mental strain. I'd hear churches on both sides of the track praying that God would bring the nations to them, but they did nothing to reach those different from themselves. They prayed people would come into their churches, but never truly went out and involved themselves in the dirt of other's lives. And when someone other than them came, that person was met with a false sense of welcome. I still don't understand it. It breaks my heart to this day.
I didn't fit anyone's mold, and now I know that that's great. For a while, it nagged me. I enjoy people and if they don't enjoy me because they can't categorize me then kindly remove yourself from my greatness and go on. I don't have time, darlin'.
And what's this whole 'black thing'? Huh? I've heard people from both sides of the fence tell me I'm not 'black enough'.....whatever that means. I've even had a person question me about why I like to run for leisure if I'm not holding a television in my hands. Ignorant. Plain dumb. People have questioned my name because it's not Lakesha or Shaniqua...hahaha. The way I speak has thrown people off. Even a phone call to the police later stated on my police report that I was a white female. Employers over the phone have invited me in to an interview only to see a chocolate goddess show up and grace their presence. I've been removed from roles in plays because I was black, asked to be on a committee only because I was black, and so on. Then I'm hit with the question of my ethnicity. Just dumb. I pose to you all this question: What does black enough mean? White folks can't wrap their heads around me, and black folks think I'm being uppity and white.
What about just choosing to be a human being who loves God and people? Being successful has nothing to do with color. Being educated doesn't mean being white, it means you're using your God-given brain- we all have one.
When my teammates and I are in the middle of hell, my need for them crosses all bounds. All we see before us is hell, and all we know is that we must figure out a way to get through that hell together. Stereotypes and beliefs go out the window. I need you, you need me- let's do this.
At the end of the day, I am with me wherever I go. Fighting for myself instead of against myself all the time has become second nature to me. I don't pray to be healed of what I think sickens me. I pray to be made whole, which I am in the process of being. Feels great. Feels like I should've been this way all along. A return to Eden before the fall. My heart's desire is to see people of ALL backgrounds celebrate being human. Depression, racism, fear, hate, vanity, doubt, and so on are no respecter of persons. We all hurt, we all fear, but we all have an incredible ability to love. Why do we spend the majority of our time fulfilling everything else but love in its deepest sense? The kind of love that stays committed when your mind and flesh tell you to walk away or lose it. The kind that celebrates who people are instead of stumbling over what they are not to you?
I was never made to live or be cookie-cutter or All-American. Molds don't fit me, and I'm not gonna waste my time trying to fit into one. If I'm made in the image of almighty God, who is limitless and free, then who am I not to mimic my Father? It's in every fiber of my being to be so. That requires no molds.