Beaches →

I was invited to go to the beach today. I was hesitant the whole way there and did not know why. One. I would have rather spent the day in bed. But two, the main reason, is that beaches are a large arena where race comes into play. It is not too dreadful of an experience. But just like the waves they push you further and further from what you want to feel: free.

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I ran towards the water, knowing I could not swim. I wondered if those who knew I could not swim thought it was because I was black, but still I ran. And was met with the cold and salty water of the Atlantic Ocean. I wonder what my hair looks like. I spent 20 minutes in front of the mirror getting it just perfect for the beach. I make plans to wash it as soon as I get home. I wonder if it is sitting on my head like a mop. Or if the edges have curled up and I have sideburns like I should be observing Sabbath. But the waves did feel nice. They felt like they were consuming me.

I washed up ashore, and quickly the water dried on my body. I sat on my yoga mat and soaked up the sun. I didn't think much of the dryness until I looked down and saw white spots all over my body. Salt water. Salt crystals. My last name never felt so fitting*. I brush off the salt but that only rubs it into my skin. While my friends are getting golden brown I am becoming an ashy grey.

Sunscreen is basically like lotion, right? Too bad I brought none. I just applied it at home and left it there, but I see now my friends apply and reapply. You have to reapply sunscreen? I thought it lasted the whole day? My friend J asked if I wanted sunscreen on my back. I said sure why not. I was thankful, but certain it was unnecessary. Then started the best back rub I ever had in my life. I did not know sunscreen needed to be applied that deep.

As a kid, the closest I came to a beach was my backyard. On our hilly piece of land, we would set up the sprinkler, slip ‘n slide, and kitty pool. My siblings and I would “get wet”, as we liked to call it. After we were done playing and just before we took our showers, we would lower our swimsuits to reveal that yes, we did get a few shades darker. Who knew that an oval tan on my back and a few lines on my shoulders could help me feel more like I belong.

Nevertheless I let J apply the sunscreen. I am older now and skin cancer knows no race. I was good for the rest of the day while my friends applied and reapplied.

I went into the water again. This time I did not care about my hair. It was all about feeling the waves. The cool water soothed me. I stayed in longer than anyone else because I could not get enough. I wanted so badly to keep feeling. The sun beamed on us equally and I was just thankful to be in my own skin.

Then it was time to go. I washed my feet at the shower station. I was the only one in the group who went. I saw only other people of color crowding the stations, thoroughly getting the sand off before the long ride home. Does sand just roll off of white people’s skin?

We ate our bellies full and we were on the train home. Right before my eyes everyone else was a shade darker. They marveled at their reddish tan skin. Talking about how the shower tonight was going to hurt. Hurt? I’m looking forward to a shower. My legs from the knees down where so ashy. I tucked my feet under my subway seat so nobody could see.

Then came my subway stop. I said goodbye and tried to maintain eye contact with everyone since there was no time for hugs. As I arose out from DeKalb Av station the same block looked so different than before. I looked at the sun as it set over Bushwick, and I still felt like I was at the beach. I had this lighthearted feeling. That is the same sun that shined over me at Rockaway.

*Nkashama = Leopard in Tshiluba