"The Unwritten Rules"

This minority thing is still kinda new to me, after all, it's only been four years. Where I come from, everyone looks like me, speaks like me, eats the same food that I do, and so on, and anyone who doesn't is the weird one. In college, I got used to being the strange one, but given my college's high international student enrollment (my freshman class alone had 13 Kenyans) there were plenty other people with whom I could be the "strange one". As I move into the work place, I know that things will be different, especially while I am still in the States. It's quickly becoming time for me to get used to being the only Kenyan, the only African, or the only person of color in certain environments.

As always, YouTube is my go to for these kind of intimidating, never-have-I-ever-experienced-this-before-what-should-I-do? experiences. And even without actually looking for it, I found this web-series, "The Unwritten Rules" that speaks to the rules of decorum that black people find themselves having to follow within the work place. It's comical and mostly satirical but already with my six-months of post-grad working experience I can related to the episode about hair.




I found one of the later episodes, about the party particularly intriguing. Why are black women viewed as anti-interracial relationships? Where did this come from?

Thanks to the guys at InkSpot. I may not need to apply their advice, but I can laugh about it and maybe use it as an ice-breaker about those tense race-related topics if they ever come up at work? Maybe.

Recycled | Random Thoughts pt. 3

I was just thinking about this rant. It's from a little over four years ago, when I was applying to college and trying really hard to convince my mum to let me go to Europe for university. It's interesting that all my reasons for wanting an accent still stand (but my perception of a US accent has definitely grown). I haven't edited it -- although I should -- I wanted to preserve my 18 year-old voice, comma errors and all.

I really should come up with a proper title...

I am shopping for an accent/twang (yes, the word is ‘twang’ – I looked it up in the Oxford English Dictionary). Of course not the kind that suits me like a pair of purple contact lenses, which if you have, I'm sure look good on you and which BTW I am still going to get, just the sort that when I open my mouth to talk, any of the following happens:

1. I get a job at one of our bigger media houses, noticed how lately anyone in the media has at least an accent or a twang? What really blows my mind is the inconsistency of the pronunciations. The Kenyan-twang is a mish-mash of all available accents: American, British, Australian, French, Mandarin- you name it. Basically, what yours sounds like to others depends entirely on what phonetics you choose to borrow from whatever region.

2. I get prompt service at Java, especially the one in Adam's. What's with them? Do I have to look foreign to get service? And you wonder why I sit for several hours, use your free internet and leave without ordering anything- you owe me at least that much, you biased people!!! It’s not so much as to get prompt service, than it is about gloating. Clearly, being that the colour of my skin is very far from not-black, I would still get ignored. However, I would derive so much pleasure out of complaining to one of the waitresses in my foreign tongue- make her feel the pinch of losing that forex money, and make sure her manager feels the same pain, only three times more.

3. People try to remember my last name if I had introduced myself, try to learn it if otherwise, or befriend me because you never know what MP, Minister, Ambassador or other prominent person spawned me and paid ridiculous tuition so that I attend school in a foreign country. Even though on further exploration of the fact, there exists a miracle known as Financial Aid, which means that the tuition need not be expensive but who cares? It is quoted in dollars and pound sterling! There are added benefits to this get-to-know-you-better; complimentary tickets and invitations to lavish parties, where I have to sit through another session of mixed up twangs. On that note, I love those people who twang with a shrub. I mean “Wow W, tharr is such a rovery dress. I should nget me one of those sometime.”

So as I shop, I wonder, Kenyan English with a hint of British? Because granted, Europeans have more class. Ama I go for good ol' American and sound like I watched too many movies and listened to too much Hip Hop? Note, the point is not to come off as a fake but a more 'polished' form of myself.

Obviously, as with everything there are downsides to all this adaptation. It isn’t all too glossy. Because once I take on my new talk, I am bound to lose a few “friends”. People that are obviously cut from the same judgmental cloth as the new crowd that I will be hanging out with. You know the guys that claim I am not “down to earth, anymore” or those that think, “she feels hot and snubbish, nowadays”. Why would the way I talk change anything about the experiences we would have shared so far?

While I'm at it, I need a whole new wardrobe. What's the point of having a ka-accent if I lack the fashion sense of my peeps from whom I borrowed the accent?

I was so much funnier when I was younger. He he.