When we first moved here, there was point when I’d walk into a room here that I can tell I've been spotted and they think that I'm Robin Roberts. I’d get several furtive looks filled by hushed whispers and subtle pointing. Or there would be nudging and blatant stares followed by heated discussions. My head was shaved and we’re both mixed race so I must have been her, right? Most of the time, no one would approach me and ask. There would just be a point where they decide that I'm not her. That Robin Roberts wouldn't be in that restaurant or grocery store or bar.
Sometimes they’d ask. One guy actually said to my face, “Hey! Aren’t you that lady dying of cancer?”
And once, I was followed into a restroom where a woman started a somewhat awkward conversation with "Do you know who you look like?" as we stood in the open stall doors, and continued talking while we were doing what one does in a bathroom and on through the hand washing. An odd beginning but I'd made a new friend(ish). To this day, she calls me Robin when she sees me and I call her Diane. I call her Diane because someone told her she looks like Diane Sawyer. I don’t see it but I don’t remember her real name. Awkward, since we're such good friends.
My hair is funky now – short on the sides with sort of dreadlock twists on the top. I don’t get "You must be Robin Roberts" looks anymore. I still get the furtive glances now but they are more - “You must be someone...but I don’t know who…” But then, like when I was Robin Roberts, I can see the point they decide that if I were “someone” I wouldn't be in that restaurant or grocery store or bar.
I’m sorry to disappoint them. I’m working on it. I’m working on being someone.
My name is ej. I'm a girl. I say that because with the short hair and the short initials, folks aren't always sure. More brilliant insights to who I am in About me