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#17 Why I Stopped Accepting Gifts

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noMy mom liked to go to auctions. She never really bought much. I think it was just a way she enjoyed passing time and getting out of the house. So occasionally I went with her. One particular Saturday, someone was selling these funny little beans in clear case and without doing anything, they would randomly jump. I thought they were funny and my mom informed me that they were called Mexican jumping beans. Once again, I never associated myself with the word ‘Mexican,” and couldn’t wait to show the kids at school. In fact, I showed them to anyone I came across. Later that same week, I was practicing for my dance recital and my mom said, “You’re a little Mexican jumping bean!” I stopped in my tracks.

 

I was starting to get antsy anytime somebody began a sentence with “You’re…”

“You’re adopted.” “You’re Mexican.” “You’re Indian.” “You’re charity.” I never knew what I was going to be told next about myself. 

 

Since we were on the subject, I decided to ask again about being Indian. “Are you sure I’m Indian,” I asked? My mom answered, “Yes, you’re Cherokee Indian.”

 

“What’s Cherokee?”

 

She replied that it was a certain tribe of Indian, but I didn’t feel like a part of a tribe any more than I felt Indian. It didn’t seem like me at all. I still felt as white as everyone around me.

 

My mom noticed how quiet I was and said, “That’s why your skin is so pretty. Girls tan all summer so that they can have skin that’s dark like yours. You’re lucky.”

 

I didn’t feel lucky. In fact, I felt pretty crappy. I didn’t want to be Cherokee Indian. I didn’t want to be Mexican. And I especially didn’t want to be charity. I hadn’t forgotten my mom’s recent comment about that at all.

 

Gifts

 

We were in Delaware on vacation and we were at the boardwalk going through all of the shops. There was a necklace in a case in one of the shops that caught my attention. It had a beautiful iridescent shell in the center of the pendent and I stood looking at it sparkling. My mom came up behind me and asked, “Do you want that?”

 

Of course I wanted it and I almost said yes immediately, but then I remembered all that I had been told recently. I thought about the fact that my mom had already done her charity by getting me and I didn’t want to take advantage. I didn’t want her to buy me gifts when she had already done so much.

 

“No.” I answered. I was still staring at the necklace.

“I will get it for you if you want it.” It seemed like she really wanted me to get it.

“No, thank you. I don’t want it,” I said trying to reassure her.

She gave up. “Okay, then.”

 

It was the same reason I stopped getting cokes at restaurants. My dad’s pet peeve was me ordering a drink and taking only a sip of it. He never got mad at me for anything, but this was just about the only exception. Once again, I remembered how much they had already done for me. “I’m not thirsty. I don’t want anything to drink,” became my standard response when ordering a meal. I didn’t want to be wasteful like he had lectured me about. I definitely wanted him to know how much I appreciated all he had done for me.  

 

Commentary

 

I don’t think my parents would have ever realized what I was thinking when I started turning down their offers. The thoughts and ideas that ran through my mind regarding being adopted probably never occurred to them. And I certainly never openly shared my thoughts. Even to my dad who I considered my best friend. I didn’t want to hurt his feelings.

At a very early age, I learned to choose my words carefully and thoughtfully to avoid hurting others. It was certainly difficult, but necessary.

The post #17 Why I Stopped Accepting Gifts appeared first on Sister Wish.


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