I am what folks call light skinded, high yella, redbone even. My eyes are slanted, in an almond shape. My nose is small and slightly wide. My lips are full and plump, envied by certain women. When I look in the mirror, I see a Black woman. But the world keeps trying to tell me something different.
So, when I wear my long flowing weave which is aptly called Spanish wavy, I am often questioned on my racial identity and heritage. When I was working at the gentleman's club, men would beg me to tell them what I was. "What you mixed with girl?" "What are you Puerto Rican?" "You got some Asian in you?" I have been called it all: Filipino, Hawaiian, Eskimo (yes, freakin’ Eskimo) everything but Black. It got to the point that me and another waitress would make up a new mix for myself on a nightly basis. We had some good combos: Cuban & Thai, Dominican & Irish, Brazilian & Dutch.
When I lived in Paris I was often mistaken for a Maghrebienne (a North African) or métissage (our version of a mulatto). Black Parisians would ask me, "where are you from?" I would say, "the United Sates." Then they would ask, "What are you?" "Black/Noire," I would say. "No," they pressed, "what are you?" What the hell? Clearly the affects/effects of slavery had not been made known across the pond. How could I explain that I was part West African on my daddy's side, some type of European (Portuguese for sure and perhaps Irish) and maybe a little Native American. Cause you know we all think we got some Cherokee in our family. Henry Louis Gates hasn’t tested my DNA yet!
With this upcoming election, race and identity have been hot button issues. Remember when Obama wasn't "Black" enough, then briefly he was "too Black…" Now, as Goldilocks said, he's just right. Although I have heard the occasional white commentator question why Obama doesn't say that he's half white, why doesn't he acknowledge his white heritage on a regular basis? As if they have forgotten about their own one drop rule.
The truth is race is in the eye of the beholder. It's when I went to Puerto Rico and everyone addressed me first (but not my friend) in Spanish, until I said, "what? I'm American. And I thought y'all spoke English here…" Ok, I didn't say that last part. It's when people (men mostly) seem to get "disappointed" when I reveal that I'm just Black, like that's not exotic enough and they had already created 'me' in their minds. It's when folks who "pass" are never found out by white folks because they conform into all the necessary looks and more importantly mannerisms of being white. Because each race carries its own stereotypes, images and connotations and looking the part is only half the battle.
In this world where people are chanting race "doesn't matter", I realize that it does matter in the sense that people still need to define you. They need to know what you are so that they can understand you, speak to you, like you, identify with you, figure you out, make assumptions and guesses about you. People find comfort in being able to put you in a box, the kind that can be checked on somebody’s form. Don’t go Tiger Woods on us and do that Cablinasian mess, pick a lane and stay in it. And pick what you look like, not what you feel.
On African American Lives 2 on PBS, Henry Louis Gates provides the guest’s racial percentage make-up. Linda Johnson Rice learned that she was 50% white. That doesn’t matter though. She and the other guests can’t walk around carrying DNA papers. To the world, they are Black, of all shades and hues, but Black nonetheless, and all that entails follows them. Personally, I think Gates should test some white people to see how many of them are pure, to see if some if someone in they family decided to pass. Then we’ll see how much race doesn’t matter. But as usual I digress.
When I tell my friends that I am often questioned about my race or heritage, they look at me with incredulity. I suppose it’s because they know me, my family, who I’m is. In their eyes my features say, Black woman, and my attitude enhances that. When I told a friend that I am constantly asked if I'm this or that or this, his reply was, "well, you still look like a n.igga to me…"
Now what does that look like?
That's my time y'all! Happy Rum Punch Friday!
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9 comments:
Next time somebody asks, tell them you're mixed with Field and House. Love to see their faces then... lol.
I think that's a cool idea- testing white folks' DNA for racial percentage makeup. I doubt Coca-cola or Walmart will sponsor that though. Where's Dave Chappelle when ya need him?
Were these fantasizing men black or white? Because there was a time when we qualified for exotic…well I won’t bring up slavery.
But this also reminds me of the Irish Heritage credit card application I received in the mail. I guess because of my last name they assumed that I wasn’t black (even though it’s a common black peoples last name) So I shared the tale of the credit card with my well meaning white co-worker and she sincerely asked me “So is someone in your family Irish?” Um. What? You know I’m black right? “So I said, yeah probably the slave owner.” How I wish I could describe her face and the nervous laughter that followed. And then me feeling all bad that I had sprayed truth on myself so that I went from Magic Negro, to just plain negro. So I said…well I don’t know, maybe someone was Irish. And she felt better. But even as I said that I was implying the taking and raping of one of my relatives, not a situation of mutual love and affection. I mean WTF? Have they forgotten how we got here? Dang. Did I bring up slavery again? My bizzle.
LOL! You look like a n.igga to me! Doesn’t that sound like the title of a song that’s about to come out? Sung by some Cash in the Bank, Blinging, I’m Mo i’gant than You Is artist?
Better yet, it should be a T-shirt! And they could put a small picture of Obama to dot the “i”. Ka-ching! Can’t you see them (looks at palm) wearing them now? Can't you hear them singing "you look like a n.igga to me" while walking down the street?
Wow! Very thought-provoking. My mother's family is very fair-skinned, but my father's family is more...average to dark complected I guess you would say, so I didn't really grow up with skin color being an issue, in my house. My relatives on both sides would bring it up. As in my brother, sister and I were darker than my mother and that type of foolishness.
But, it's always funny when I am in the midst of people and they start talking trash about people who are really fair-skinned, not knowing that my mother is, or people who are really dark-skinned, not knowing that my father is. I always.go.off.
Keep fighting the fight sister because race will always matter. People can say whatever they want, but it will.
here's what's interesting...i am what folks do call dark/black/chocolate, my eyes are very large, in a round shape, my nose is wide.
but people always be like where you from? i say the South, they say but what are you, Haitian, Jamaican, Nigerian, Senegalese, etc. and I say well I was born in GA but yes yes at some point my peoples had to have been brought there from the continent or the islands. hope that makes you feel better...
@ Dark & Stormy: You're crazy! My cousin's baby mama, I'm sorry the mother of his daughter, would tell people when they asked what their light skinned, light eyed, straightish hair child was mixed with, she would say: Black and n.igga. LAWD! The people weren't ready!
@ Amaretto: It was mainly Black men who asked. White men would usually be on some Jefferson/Hemmings mess from the break. When Mint Julep and I were in L.A., where apparently Black women are the lowest on the dating totem pole, this Black guy is all, "you are beautiful. Do you have Asian in you?" Hmmm...Would that make a difference? What would it mean to you if I said, "yes..." We'll never know cause I said, "no" and he walked away...
@ Sugar: Welcome!
Keep fighting the fight sister because race will always matter. People can say whatever they want, but it will.
Girl! Don't I know it. I won't let it get me down or stop my dreams but I know the truth. Everybody ain't hopin and changin...
@Mint Julep: Ahhh so people are tryna to trace your roots for you, some bootleg Gates type investigation... In the end people see what they want to see...
I think on the show Henry Louis Gates told Linda Johnson Rice she was 50% European, Chris Rock 20% European, Don Cheadle is 19% European, and Tina Turner 33% European. But European doesn't mean white. The original people of Europe were Black people. This is why Henry Louis Gates himself is 55% European more specifically Irish, this is why he knows he has European blood but its not from any of the whites that his family says are their ancestors.
I totally feel you on that sentiment. I know I've got a little bit of this and a little bit of that in me and some recessive genes decided to manifest themselves in me. However, for all intents and purposes I'm black. Especially since I grew up in an all white town...I was never anything but that black girl (or nigger *raises angry fist*). But when I went to college / moved to Atlanta I always get the "what are you?" question. I respond, "sorry to dissapoint you; however, I'm just black."
I don't know how I've missed this one (I have some catching up to do on yall's ((yeah that's country)) blog..lol)..
Anywho...
Not a day doesn't go by when I'm asked, "what are you?", I simply reply with my first name. My mother is Central American Belizean (a mix of Creole/African/Spanish), and my father is Irish. But, when I look in the mirror, I see a black woman.
I've come across the black men (especially in this area) who seem to only want to flock to me b/c of my 'genetic' make-up. Sorry, but the only thing exotic about me is the Parrot I have as a pet.
I don't know why people would expect him to say, "Yes, I'm white". When obviously when you see him, you see a black man. It didnt' even occur to me until about a year ago that he was 'mixed' and that was only when I started to read one of his books.
Like Obama, despite the mixed background, I know in my eyes and those who know me; I'm a black woman.
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