When "Wow" Has a Color
By Badassery member Simmone Taitt, Founder of Poppy Seed Health, an on-demand 24/7 emotional and mental health support for wherever you are on your pregnancy and postpartum journey. Her love of reading and words encouraged her to pursue degrees in English, Government & Law and Women’s Studies. She still enjoys a (lactose-free) ice cream treat, with a cherry on top, of course.
It was clear to me - and only me - that my commitment to winning as many "one free ice cream cone" certificates for reading the most books and writing the most book reports was my absolute calling in life. Just the thought of a delicious mint chocolate chip double scoop waffle ice cream cone covered in chocolate sprinkles made me max out my 10-book limit library card every week. I was determined. I was dedicated. I was competitive. I was fat. All the right motivators were in place for me to become one of the most recognized 4th grade readers in all of Massachusetts, and by default, one of the most elite spellers in the country.
I don't remember the day of the week or what the weather was like, but I do remember our home room teacher snapping me to attention when she announced that we would be spending the day competing in the school’s Spelling Bee and that the winner was walking away with the grand prize of a new dictionary (with illustrations), moving onto regionals as the state speller in our age group and a BOOKLET of free ice cream sundae coupons.
I. was. in.
If you're picturing me as a dorky little chubby 4th grader, you are correct, but it was worse. I was taller than all the boys, wore huge Jessie Raphael red framed glasses and my mother was still putting my hair in 8-section pigtails with baubles and barrettes. I was one of very few black children in my predominantly white elementary school, neighborhood, city and my "fancy hair-do’s" were always a point of Monday morning discussion with my teachers and friends. I had been well trained to duck and dodge curious white hands coming for my barrettes at school. This was never a problem for me at my Black church because everybody knew better. The wonder that Solange's "Don't Touch My Hair" would have done in my life back then would have been magic.
So, there I was, mid-week pigtails, sliding my glasses methodically up the bridge of my nose and spelling my butt off as we did the round robin method in my class of 30 or so kids. The first two rounds took out half the class and by lunch break we were down to 5 of us. The rest of us filed into the auditorium. The scene was familiar. There was me, the singular representative of the entire Black population and everyone else. The hours crept on, kids were dropping like flies and by mid-afternoon the only ones who were left were a dorky red-headed, determined and chubby 5th grade boy and I. The last bell of the day rang. School was out and the principle moved us to his office to continue the competition.
The tired principle flipped the dictionary to the "V's" blurted out a word and for the first time in 7 hours, the 5th grade adversary stammered, paused and stared blankly in dismay searching for the correct letters. Catching his breath, he started to spell.
"Varsity. V-A-R-C-I-T-Y. Varsity."
The principle, exhaled, hung his head and looked sadly with deep empathy at the 5th grader. They had a moment. They were connected on a deeper level in a place that I was not allowed because I wasn’t a boy and also, perhaps, that I wasn’t white.
He announced “incorrect.”
The principal looked at me, repeated the word and...
"Varsity. V-A-R-S-I-T-Y. Varsity."
Gasp, then...
“Wow.”
And, it was not the kind of “wow” that someone expressed when they were impressed and amazed. It was the kind of how-did-she-pull-that-off “wow”. It was the kind of “wow” that a little black girl receives when she wasn’t just a winner, but also the first little black girl that would represent the district at regionals for the state.
It was the kind of “wow” that I’ve continued to receive my whole life as the “first and only.” Got into that school? Wow. Won that award? Wow. Beat that person? Wow. Woman in the boardroom? Wow. Leading the meeting? Wow. Black woman in tech? Wow. Crossed that finish line? Wow. Started that company? Wow.
The biggest lesson I’ve learned is that “wow-ing” myself is more than enough. If you are impressed, too? Well, that’s only the cherry on top.
Check out more about Simmone on her Badassery page.