July 7, 2007

I am a Hostess cupcake
That’s right im a hostess cupcake.  Ok maybe not that dark but the concept is the same.  I’d like to think I’m a mass of airy chocolate cake with fluffy white cream on the inside. 

It wasn’t until I moved away from home did I begin to feel like this.  I’m sure you noticed, but I’m still dealing with it.   I’m beige, in the summer I looks like a tan.  My mother never told me I was different and isn’t it weird how kids don’t see in colour, and if they do they just accept it.  I wish I could go back to simpler days like that, when all that mattered was how cool you were and you were judged on things like sports and what clubs you were on.

I am Indian.  Feather not dot.  And I will use the word Indian, because I am so sick and tired of the word changing all the time to suit the whim of political correctness.

Card carrying member of the Mississauga first Nation.  I’m not opposed to having to register with the government.  I think of it for the greater good.  Like we are animals in the zoo that “they” can keep track of.  Yet I’m ok with that.   I believe that it is a necessary evil for the propagation of the species, my species, our species.    Can’t be letting all that riff-raff in?