The subtitle of the book is "One name, two fates" and it follows the parallel and lives of two men, both black, both from the same financial and family background who both share the same name. Yet they both end up with completely incomparable outcomes. One was arrested and sentenced to life in jail for murdering a police officer, the other went on to serve in the military in Iraqi, became a white house fellow under Condoleeza Rice, a wall street executive and of course, a respected if not "accidental" author.
The exchange that struck me during the interview was when Oprah was able to find similarities in her own upbringing to Wes's and stated that she knew where he was coming from and that she herself was blessed to be exposed to a good education, and because of that she was also victimised by members of her own community who instead of encouraging her in her endeavours, accused her of thinking she was better than everyone else.
Oprah went on to explain how at that time in her life, as an average teen she was already facing huge hurdles, the added pressure of living up to the expectations and hopes put upon her by her parents after receiving a scholarship to a more "highly funded school", was enough for the young developing woman, but added to that was the stigma that followed her as one of only two black kids out of two thousand students at her new school, and if that wasn't enough, her own peers from her neighbourhood ridiculed her for "turning white".
It's funny how much this happens in any community on any scale, whether it be your simple over achiever in a small country town, or a celebrity who over night has reached stratospheric heights of fame, we have an obsession with pulling down those around us who may not necessarily be "over achieving", it seems these days plain old "achieving" is enough to bring on a nasty case of tall poppy syndrome.
As an early teen I did the one thing that creates a very thin line between success and failure (from a teen agers perspective mind you).
I moved schools.
At that crucial age when your whole world seems to be caving in, that big line of division finally gets drawn that separates the supposedly "cool kids" from the "proverbial geeks". But if you're a kid who at some point during this period gets the opportunity (or has the opportunity forced upon them) to move schools, the game changes a little. You have the chance for a fresh start, to create a totally different you who can be everything you never were at your old school.
The school I had gone to previously had quite a small year, so I was friends with most people and rarely thought of such things as popular and unpopular, in a grade that small, there wasn't room for that sort of thing. Then I found myself swallowed up by the public school system, drowned by a sea of personalities and competing egos. Coming from a school where I had simply been liked for "me" I assumed the same applied in this environment, I was wrong. Terribly and unspeakably wrong.
I quickly discovered "The Line", while the surfers, foot ballers, net ballers, basket ballers and whatever other ballers you could think of stood under the big buzzing sequined label of "popular" I was on the other side with the kind of kids that chose chess as their Wednesday afternoon sport, the kind of kids who wish with all their might that they get an acceptance letter to Hogwarts School of Wizardry, the type of kids who, while their peers are our clubbing for their 18ths, they prefer to have a LAN (a gathering of their friends who bring their game consoles and computers and they play against each other, sometimes for days in a row). Goths, Emos, fat kids, nerds, gamers, aspring gothic novelists, vampire lovers, cos-players and anime freaks were my country men.
And it all boiled down to one little detail, the way I spoke.
I'd been raised with an English Teacher as a father and as a result learned to speak the way he did, in a very mature, succinct style. At first the other kids at school used to say in a joking way "you use such big words" then the insults worsened. Apparently by talking the way I did I confirmed that I was indeed not normal and the only answer that could be the reason for this must be that I was gay, you know, because only gay men talk properly.
I would walk through the middle of the school yard praying as hard as I could that people wouldn't shout out insults at my back or have a group of boys call out in mock flirtations as I hurried on by and not a day passed when it didn't happen. I ended up walking around the back of the school.
When it would come to class time and the teacher called the roll at the beginning of the day I dreaded answering my name because I knew there would be sniggers from the back of the classroom, or a resounding chorus of "here's" in imitation from the back of the class in overly girly voices.
I remember one afternoon after school I'd broken down only three months into my first year of year seven, I was mess sitting at my grandmother's house crying and asking over and over "why don't they like me? I don't understand why they don't like me?"
I hated myself, I hated everything about who I was. I had no specific talents to speak of, nothing to hold on to as an emotional outlet. I wasn't worth it. A waste of space, a waste of time, a waste of life.
And then one day, as a rushed emergency replacement in a school music item, I began to sing.
The boy who broke out in a nervous sweat at the thought of answering his name at roll call in class, who would have other kids say hello to him just so that when he replied they could laugh at his speech, that boy found that he could stand on a stage and sing out.
During my last two years of high school, my singing gave me some great opportunities, and I met some incredible people. In fact without it, I wouldn't have chosen music as a senior elective and had previously never considered taking, a class that would in turn lead me to a friendship with a girl from a local church and would result in me being planted in a church that would change my life.
However I digress.
One of the biggest rewards was that the voice I had faced ridicule for and been ashamed of had become a proud part of my identity. Something that I'd tried my hardest to keep hidden away, I was now letting fly around auditoriums.
Of course this wasn't the defining moment in my life that saw me become the person I am today, six years on God is still showing me strengths and facets of myself I never knew I had, but I can indeed say, that I love myself, because I know that I am a creation that is unique and pleasing to God, as India Arie says "When I look in the mirror and the only one there is me, every freckle on my face is where it's supposed to be, and I know my creators didn't make no mistakes on me. My feet my thighs, my lips my eyes I'm LOVING what I see!"
My point is, don't let yourself become suppressed by people who want to pull you down, I can say that 100% of the time, the person, or group that is doing so to you, is doing so because they see something special in you and they are jealous haters. But what's sadder is they are so insecure that they fail to see that they too are special in their own way, but they're so caught up in following the crowd and pleasing everybody that they lose their sense of self.
Don't let bullying get to you, because to let it damage something so precious and wonderful as yourself, would be a terrible shame, and I can promise you, the world would be missing out on something great if it didn't have YOU!
The thing is, popularity can only be taken so far, however integrity is something that can only be lost by choice.
Look in the mirror and know that you are worthy, fabulous, beautiful, talented, inspired, inspirational, interesting, special, unique, but most of all, LOVED.
Until next time.
Oh and p.s to all those kids who called me ugly and fat.....
Yeah, WHAT? Didn't think so.
