As an adult I LOVE the F word. I often use it like a comma. It is the only word that sums up my big feelings sometimes. I love the way the F word feels. The first time I used the F word, I was 11 and in a Baptist Church the first time I ever really said it and found its power.
I was raised Catholic, but on occasion I would be invited by my dad’s Baptist family to attend their church. I actually enjoyed going sometimes because of the whole social part of it and the music….LOVED the music. My cousin’s wife was a preacher’s kid and their church was next in my rotation. At this church there was a group of kids my age that I joined up with. Of course I was questioned because I spoke like a White girl and my skin did not look exactly like the other Black girls. There was a boy named John that was beautiful and all the girls adored him. He looked like a member of New Edition. He flirted with all of the girls, except me. He was polite but not flirty with me, but I could tell he sorta liked me. So after a couple of visits to the church and polite conversation he started writing me notes. The notes were not as sweet as he was to the girls that he flirted with in person. He would tell me that I was pretty but then he would tell me the things he wanted to do to me. We were only 11 so they were not terribly graphic, but they were also not appropriate. At first I thought, well he is at least paying attention to me, so I allowed it. I would try to make different conversation and ignore the things he was saying. This went on for a couple of Sunday’s and then he got brave and wrote me a very direct note basically saying that he intended to do those things and if I was not in agreement then he was done with me.
The First Time I Let the F Word Slip
We were sitting in the last pew. I had on my favorite dress. It was light pink with white ginormous stars all over it, with a perfect white patent leather belt. I had a pretty white ribbon in my hair and white tights and white patent leather shoes. I remember feeling so pretty that morning heading to church. He actually complimented my dress that morning before the notes started. But when he handed me that note, I stared at it for what seemed like forever. I realized he would never like me like he liked the other girls. Never! I don’t know how long I stared at that note but what brought me out of it was him looking at me and mouthing the words, “well, what’s it gonna be?” I in a quiet, but very forceful tone in that church I saud “Fuck Off!”
His eyes were the size of saucers. Everyone in the last three rows turned around. When they saw my face they all looked away. Finally, one of the adults came back and asked the other kids what had happened to me…I always thought it was interesting that they didn’t ask me directly. They must have told her that John gave me a note and then the rest happened. I then just handed the women the note and nothing else was ever said about it. I stopped going to that church regularly after that but I would pop in from time to time. John was always polite but kept his distance.
As an adult dating has always been a struggle. I love dark skinned Black men. But what I often found was I was more of a secret fetish. They would sneak and pursue me but never out right in the light of day. I was like dating a White girl but without all the guilt, but not Black enough to take home to momma. I am not sure if that was John’s deal or not, but it sure felt like it in my adult hindsight.
When I saw the response the F word got I never forgot it’s power and I still hold it dear to my heart to this day.
I am Shay. I am Biracial, White mother, Black father. For most of my life I have identified as Black.At this stage in my life I am identifying as Shay. I am single. I am very happy to have this life, good and bad.