We moved back to the US from Germany in 1986, midway through my sophomore year of high school. My sister was already miserable from having to leave England and that was almost two years prior. I was miserable at the thought of leaving Germany, the place I loved most in my short what, 14 years of life? But what really hit the shitter was when my dad announced that we'd be attending private school. In South Carolina. A place that still didn't allow black students. No wonder tears started shooting out our eyes.
My sister loved England but I loved Germany. I had an incredible group of girlfriends and pretty lenient parents, so we'd go bar hopping every weekend to dance, drink and have a great time (me and my girls, not my parents). I'll write a lot more about Germany later, but have to get to the humiliation now.
It was midway through the year at "The Academy." Whiteness and ugliness was everywhere. We couldn't chew gum. We had to wear skirts. Did I mention they didn't allow black students? Seriously, it was like the 1950's but without the good music. Anyway, as we made our miserable way through springtime, cheerleading tryouts were announced. When I wasn't geeking out in marching band I actually did cheer during basketball season. But at "The Academy" I was going to cheer during football season, so I signed up to try out. I thought, "I'll show these stuck up whities what's what!"
Day of auditions. If you wanted to join the cheerleading squad, you had to audition in the auditorium. In front of the entire school. And they got to vote who made it and who didn't. Being the newbie, and considering the other 'contestants' looked like their mommies just got done making them up for their next trailer trash beauty pageants, I didn't think I had a chance in hell. But, I went for it. I went out there and cheered my non-existent balls off and felt great about my audition.
Until someone yelled, "Hey! What's with the dirty knees!?"
Immediately, I knew that question was directed at me. For some reason my knees are darker than my shins and thighs. I don't know why, so don't expect me to give you an answer.
I was hideously embarrassed and wanted the floor to crack open and swallow me whole. It didn't. But I made that cheerleading squad regardless. And how good do you think it made me feel to tell them all to F OFF because I was going to the public school directly across the street. Where whites were the minority. Where no one would notice my black knees. Where people could chew gum and wear what they wanted. Where you had to have some self respect and opinions or you'd run the risk of getting your ass beat into the dirt.
When my sister and I told our parents there wasn't a chance in hell we were going back to "The Academy," it was tough to get them to acquiesce. They don't know it, but saying yes was the best thing they ever could have done. They kept us from becoming snotty, stuck up, disapproving, racist, materialistic, narrow minded bitches.
I graduated from that public high school in 1988. I have memories from there that I'll never forget. That's where I found my first love. That's where I first made love (um, no, not in the school). That's where I truly started to discover who I was and what I wanted out of life. I can guarantee one thing - if we'd never gotten out of "The Academy" I wouldn't experience the love, forgiveness, generosity, compassion, contemplation, fun, determination and occasional fearlessness I do today.
Rumor has it the school burned down, but it doesn't matter. Whether erect or in ashes, it'll always hold some of the most dear memories of my formative years.
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