There have been times in my life when I have wished I were more... exotic.
In third grade, Nina: hip, bossy, glorious and black, just had a way with people that I don't think I will ever be able to harness. She would often come up to one of the girls, sass coming out of her ears, and ask, "You got a boyfriend?" If the answer was yes* she would continue, "Well drop the zero and get with the hero." I never knew what that meant. I don't think Nina ever knew what that meant. But if I'd had a boyfriend, he'd be gone yesterday.
This morning the same yearning came listening to Obama tell the NAACP that underprivileged teens may face more challenges than the wealthy population, but it was no reason to "get bad grades! Cut class! [or] Drop out of school!" I was all of the sudden transported to a dilapidated porch swing, fanning myself from the heat of life, struggling to get by, abandoning my dreams of becoming a rapper/baller to pursue America's dream for me of becoming a teacher, and loving me for it.
I decided that whether it be Nina Making single ladies out of us all, or Obama making me a scientist/doctor/teacher, I want in. Most of the time. Or at the very least I want Nina's approval of my boyfriend, and Obama to tell me I've got flow.
*Amendment to previous wish: There have been times in my life when I have wished I were more... exotic and had a boyfriend.