I'm a Veronica.

May. 22, 2010 at 12:44am with 89 notes View comments

I never did figure out why they had a subscription to National Geographic.

Growing up I had this friend, who was fun (she had a pool), but terribly high-maintenance. Always mad at me about something. And her parents were raging bigots.

I think we were in college when the National Geographic Cleopatra issue came out. The one where the cover was the profile of a gorgeous, regal African woman. I think it was computer generated, an artist’s rendering of what scholars were now saying Cleopatra might have looked like. She resembled that famous bust of Nefertiti, but made flesh. And black. Inky black. Like she was supposed to be.

Like she was supposed to be. That’s the thought when I saw black Cleopatra on my friend’s parents’ kitchen table.

My friend’s mother’s reaction was precisely the opposite. She was horrified. She bellowed,

“Cleopatra? BLACK? What kind of crazy cockknocker thought up this bullshit?”

(I’m paraphrasing, although I’m pretty sure she used the word “cockknocker”. It was her all-purpose insult of choice.)

I knew I wasn’t going to change her mind. I had neither the desire nor the ability to truly enlighten her. But I had to respond somehow. So I looked her right in the eye and said, slowly and with exaggerated enunciation,

“Egypt. Is. In. Africa.”