It’s funny how a song, smell or even colour can evoke what you thought was a long lost memory. I walked past a car today, the windows were wide open, trying to give the driver some relief from the warm, humid air. The morning was stiflingly hot for only 8:30am and the lady in the passenger seat was muttering something ineligible, I was too far away to hear and the music leaving their stereo was too loud, but by the way she was furiously powdering her nose and from my own personal experience, it was probably something along the lines of “shit, why did I even bother spending 30 minutes of my precious morning, applying makeup, only for this damned heat to sweat it all out before I even make it to work”. Well, it’s what I’d have been saying, had I bothered to put makeup on this morning. But life’s too short and the air too thick, my bare face smiled a knowing smile, though I know she couldn’t see it.
The song playing from the dark coloured Range Rover was by Jon B, called “They Don’t Know”. It was one of my favourite songs about 14 years ago and I watched the video 100’s of times. The minute I picked up the beat, I was transported back a good 15 years to my first ‘proper’ boyfriend. My first proper kiss and my first taste of teenaged angst and racial tension. In those few moments where the gas guzzling SUV was in front of me, stuck, waiting for the lights to change colour and be on its way, I could smell the air in the room of my friend’s house as we nervously looked at each other, wondering whether to break that cultural / skin colour barrier and talk to each other. I mean, I had white friends, I think I was probably the only black girl in the room, but I’d known my friend since primary school and race never played a role in our relationship. But fancying a white boy? Fancying anyone for that matter, well this was new. Caught up in the moment, and perhaps fuelled by one too many cans of brightly coloured, lemon flavoured Hooch and Barcardi Breezers (sorry mum if you read this!) we ended up kissing and for me, it was kind of magical. When I heard the song, I could taste the super sweet alcopop and see his blushing cheeks. I remember being intrigued by how his skin could change colour so quickly.
I don’t think we swapped numbers or even spoke to each other during the half term, but we picked up where we left off once we returned to school. My friends didn’t care as much as I thought they would about me dating outside of my race. It was probably expected of me. I was the one who didn’t mind going to the shops without a gaggle of teens surrounding me. Of dressing how I wanted, not how the magazines and peers said we should. Of loving fitness (ha who’d believe it now?) even though I’d be teased and bullied mercilessly for a year for having strong legs and toned arms. I’d go to the cinema alone if I had a couple of hours to spare, even at the age of 14 and it’s something I continue to feel comfortable to do.
I think for the guy, it wasn’t as straight forward. I remember the Jon B song well and feel a swell of emotions, mostly knots and frustration, because I played it over and over to myself one day after school. He’d had a run in with a group of boys in the loos. They’d told him he shouldn’t go out with me. He got heat from the black boys and the white boys too. Poor sod. We ignored it for the most part though. Walked home together holding hands, chatting, sneaking the odd kiss. It was nice, that song was my way of sticking two fingers up to those who had an issue with our union. My war cry. My ‘go get a life and stop worrying about what we have.
I don’t think we lasted long, probably school work, other interests and my short attention span all played roles. I’d like to think that people disapproving had nothing to do with it, but I think I may have re-written history slightly to suit my stubborn needs. The song was probably in the charts for longer than our relationship lasted, but we stayed friends through school and I sometimes wonder how he is when I hear ‘our’ song. Bet he didn’t know we had a song. Well, as I said, it’s funny how a song can evoke memories.
