I remember it being a tired Thursday afternoon. On the stop that followed mine a mother and her four and a half children entered the cart. Of course the typical place for them to sit was right in front of me. From that point onward I would not be able to have a peaceful one hour train ride. Well, what do you except from kids no other than five.
Usually I can't stand kids but for some awkward reason this group of little ones struck me, especially the middle sister. I know what one may think to themselves: What is so interesting about a group of small children? During this time period of our lives we are constantly questioning and learning about almost everything. Some of the things that we may learn or question can sometimes concern our identity and our place in society.
Before I get all theoretical let's put our focus back on the cute little mid-sister. Thank you.
While the good ol' 5 train was running slow and with delays I took some time to analyze/or examine this little, unique bunch. From the left to the right you have the oldest sister with arm around her sister (middle child), the middle sister looking joyous playing with a Barbie, and the baby brother trying to receive attention from his mother.
Wait a minute, now I know what I left out. The Barbie that the middle sister was playing with was a sight to be seen. If I couldn't remember anything from this day the Barbie will always pull me back.
You can say what you want to say about most Barbie dolls but this particular doll was special to me as much as it was to the mid-sister. Seeing the sight of a person (of any age or ethnicity) marvel at the image of beauty that doesn't match theirs is a pitiful thing indeed.
I know that most people may see this in a state of adornment but I was in a state of mental devastation. Honestly, how can a little black girl with dark skin, broad lips, wide noise, and kinky hair (that was braided) see a white, blonde hair, blue eyed Barbie doll as the shrine galore of beauty. This question should be headed towards the nine month pregnant mother like a stray bullet. I don't know about their father he was nowhere to be found. Thankfully, I wasn't the only one disturbed sitting on the other side of them was a mid-aged man who didn't bother to look in their direction.
As the train approached 125th Street the mother signaled the two sisters, gets up, and pushed the baby brother's stroller to the closes door in the cart.
While the conductor opened the doors and the family left somehow all of my focus was still on the middle sister. Seeing her bother her bother her big sister with one hand and halfway holding the Barbie doll in the other for some reason put a smile on my face. Once those doors closed I would have questions regarding the salvation and integrity of this little girls future. Will she grow up thinking that it's ok for her to dye her hair and bleach her skin? To wear color contacts? To get her lips and buttock implanted?
Half of this I didn't want to know. Shit, let me stop before I catch a case. Anywho I had a class to catch. Brooklyn Bridge-City Hall was four stops away. I knew this would be a interesting journal entry.-3/3/2017
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