Eng 101

Ms. Darby

Karmen Collins

September 24, 2002

Was She A Real Friend?

As a young child all the way up to high school I lived in a predominantly Caucasian environment. All my friends; males and females were Caucasian. I participated in activities and athletics to become popular and to fit in with everyone to make friends. After I joined those organizations I realized how good I was in sports and how talented I was in other activities. So I quickly became friends with a lot of people. So every Friday I would help sponsor dances at my school and other events with my friends. It just so happened one day a girl in my science class named Nicole asked if she could catch a ride that Friday night to the dance with me and I said, “Sure I will call Thursday night to let you know what time I will pick you up.” I went and asked my dad could I give Nicole a ride to the dance and his response was “yes.” I immediately ran upstairs and called Nicole to tell her the good news. We were both so excited we began deciding on what time to pick her up and what to wear to the dance. Nicole and I arrived at the dance looking just alike; same kind of jeans, same color shirt, and same hairstyle. We paid at the door and walked in and immediately walked into the gym where everyone was dancing. After we danced we went into the cafeteria where we ate pizza and candy along with soda. When we finished we walked out into the hallway and began mingling with different people and just chillin’ and we wound up having a nice time together. After that incident we became good friends and we would talk in class about homework and call each other to gossip about cute boys, but I wouldn’t go over her house. Even though I wasn’t allowed to go over her house I felt close enough to her to talk about anything and she wouldn’t tell anyone. We didn’t even resemble each other; she was short, I was tall, she had red hair, I had black hair, I was athletic, and she wasn’t. Even though our outsides were different I felt close enough by other things we had in common like: eating the same kind of food, liking the same movies and shows, and being the oldest in our family. People would start to say, “Every where you see Nicole you see Karmen and vise versa.” Other girls who didn’t like or even know Nicole would talk about her and how conceited she was when she really wasn’t. Nicole always said she liked me because of that; because I didn’t listen to what anyone else had to say about anything or anyone else unless I experienced it myself. Well I remember one day Nicole confronting me in science class about how she heard from people I was talking about her. I responded, “Nicole your playing right your like best friend. Why are you even asking me that when you know I wouldn’t do that to you.” She said, “Karmen I don’t think people would just go and make things up.” I got upset and said, “Are you calling me a liar. You are believing people who you don’t even talk to, people who don’t even like you and you know it. I’m supposed to be your best friend and you don’t even believe me, when I’m telling you the truth.” Well being so we were both angry we started getting loud right in the middle of science class and she called me a “NIGGER”.
At that split second I remember all blood just rushing to my head from being so pissed off at her. I immediately released my anger and blurted out, “You funckin’ bitch how could you be so naïve. They are just trying to start something between us. You piss me the hell off. How could you sit there and say something to me like that.” I just remembered wanting to just hit her as hard as I could right in her mouth for saying that to me, but something stopped me.
That day I didn’t even stay after school for athletics or activities I went home regular time. I burst into the house as my mother was relaxing in the chair watching television. She immediately looked up and just as fast my little mouth could run I said Nicole called me a “NIGGER”. My mother’s response was, “What happened.” I explained to my mother the whole conversation and I remember my mother jumping out the chair almost hitting the ceiling because she was so upset. I didn’t know what to do with myself after that I just remember my mother calling the school and complaining saying that Nicole should get some kind of punishment for saying that to a classmate in class. I came into school the next couple of days and seeing her made me not even want to look her in the eye thinking I would just make myself even madder thinking about what she called me. Nicole walked up to me and apologized and I didn’t except her apology. She even tried writing me a note saying she was sorry and I gave it right back to her with no response.
As I grew up into my teenager years I never forgot what was said to me and how much remorse I felt towards Nicole. I didn’t know it then, but now I know what my mother was stressing to me for all those years that I didn’t want to hear. I remembered thinking to myself, “Was there something I said to make her say that.” I told my mother how I felt and she disagreed with me. My mother said, “No matter how mad you made her there was no reason for her to say that to you.” Even if she was or wasn’t your friend that is not something you just say on an everyday basis. I responded to my mother as if I understood when I was still confused. I still didn’t understand why? I never called her a name because of her cultural background. Now that I am older, once again I understand that all people are not the same and don’t have the same way of thinking.
I look back now and realize one of the reasons she called me a “NIGGER” was because she new it would make even madder than I already was, which I think is very wrong. From that experience I changed dramatically. Never again in my life will I ever put myself in that kind situation. Being so willing to have friends and trusting how they are so soon, before I know them. Even though she apologized for her actions I never forgave her for what she said. I don’t think I ever will. Because of that experience I just watch who my friends are and how close I should get to them and be to them. Until this day I don’t know what stopped me from hitting her so hard she blacked out. I always thought my strength within myself stopped me. Letting me be the stronger person by using verbal confrontation instead of physical confrontation. I just know from that moment on I never talked to her again.