Black girl in Paris??

My "black card" is kinda like my old CT license. People would look at it quizzically and question it's validity. Led to a couple annoying conversations with bouncers. And like that old driver's license, my "black card" has been questioned many times. Back at Kingsbury Elementary School, this used to upset me. I was being me, how was I to change that? I have long since embraced myself and all the idiosyncrasies and eccentricities that make me Steffie B. I cannot help my love of pop music. Ask Zah about my jam session last Friday. Ke$ha followed by La Roux?! Anyway, as my parents drove me to the airport, I mentioned how I was going to be on the lookout for Black Americans. Black backpackers are a rare breed. And as I hopped out the car, hiked my backpack up and went to give my mom a hug, she said, "My white girl in a black girl's body." Even my mom is checking my card for verification! lol. I'm just different. Who said all black girls have to be the same, or even similar?

And I know you all are probably secretly, or not so secretly, agreeing with my mom (I mean, all I could do was laugh). It matters not. You're reading this blog so you love me, or at least you find my eccentricities mildly entertaining. I can deal with that. lol.