A repost from a few years ago but I still think it’s interesting. 🙂
Yes, I just love this song and Carlos Santana IS Mexican so it works, right? Rob Thomas’ wife (the lady in the window) is Puerto Rican. Close enough…
Cinco de Mayo!!! For many people, May 5th has something to do with a Mexican battle and is a perfect excuse to gorge on chips and salsa, inhale tacos and drink a lot of (if not too many) Corona’s, Mexican Martinis and margaritas. Traditionally for me, Cinco de Mayo celebrations are about finding the most colorful dress you have and preparing to drink to oblivion (or most often in my case watching other people drink to oblivion). There’s been very little history or real knowledge associated with the date. But a few years ago I learned something new about the holiday. Who knew Cinco de Mayo had a (near) direct relationship to the emancipation of slavery?
“During this time, Confederate General Robert E. Lee was enjoying success, and had the French defeated México at Puebla, France would have aided the South in the American Civil War in order to free Southern ports of the Union Blockade. The Mexicans had won a great victory that kept Napoleon III from supplying the confederate rebels for another year, allowing the United States to build the greatest army the world had ever seen.”
While there’s a lot more to it, the success of the Mexicans over the French aided in the Yankees over the Confederates. Viva la Mexico!
I thought I was being a clever wordsmith but, alas, a Google search has proven me wrong.
UrbanDictionary.com describes blacknowledgement as “the process by which a Black person acknowledges another black person’s presence in a social environment where black people are scarce or otherwise absent. These environments include places and events like: lacrosse parties, ice hockey games, early morning classes, Russia and The Ku Klux Clan Annual General Meeting. Blacknowledgement is a show of solidarity and support indicating to another black person that you understand their social anxiety and feel their inner torment.”
Stuff-About.com goes further with “A blacknowledgement can be executed using anything from a simple nod to a well executed six part, click and snap, integrated handshake. In less friendly situations, a blacknowledgement may be used as a territorial gesture. It can be used to signal to another black person that you are the resident black person in that environment and that they should cower off and find non-black friends of their own. Many black people feel that their novelty wears thin when they find out that they are not the “token black person” anymore.”
Whether I agree with these definitions 100% or not, they are the basis and blacknowledgement exists and is prevalent.
I started “realizing” blacknowledgement a few years ago but it’s been a part of my life as far back as I can remember. When I am in public and see another black person across the room, across the street, in the boardroom or behind the counter, I acknowledge my recognition of their permanent tan. It’s generally subtle, typically eye contact and a nod will suffice. But it’s there. Since I recognize I’m doing it, I’ll try not to go out of my way. Some people will make it a POINT to go out of their way to reach out to you, especially in professional or large group social settings. Even though, I may not make giant strides across a room to shake your hand, if you do not at least make eye contact, I feel slighted. Ridiculous or not.
As I came to “realize” my unconscious blacknowledgement, I tried to figure out how I’d explain it, especially to non-black people. Why do it? Who taught me to do it? Consequences of not doing it? Really I don’t know. I imagine it’s truly (good or bad) just acknowledging someone somewhat like you. Sure you could have different backgrounds and experiences but in whatever situation you’re currently in you’re both at least (if not only) black. As someone whose professional and social circles do not regularly include many chocolate-hued faces, it is somewhat comforting to see another black person in those groups. And it doesn’t matter what part of the country you’re in. I’ve experienced blacknowledgement in Tennessee, Texas, New York City, Chicago, San Francisco and Ames, IA.
How did I learn? I have absolutely no idea. No one ever told me to do it or even discussed the phenomenon with me. I think I just learned by watching the adults in my family and recognizing other people were doing it to me. Either way, I am a well-established participant in regular blacknowledgement.
I’m not aware of any consequences. But I’d imagine some people may feel slighted. For whatever reason, I do at times. Brown faces in a sea of beige and pink stick out. No one’s truly THAT race/color-blind. I know you saw me…
So what are we to learn about/from blacknowledgement? I’m really not sure. I don’t see anything intrinsically wrong with acknowledging the other black people around me. I don’t ignore all non-black people in the same situations. It’s just an extra. I imagine I do the same thing when in situations with only one or two more women. However, for whatever reason, 1.) I’m more often the only African-American than woman, 2.) I’m less uncomfortable as the only woman, and 3.) There is a sense of potential competition with the “other woman” that I can’t say I feel with the “other black”.
I imagine I’ll go on acknowledging my brothers and sisters and laughing a little when I realize I’m doing it. To further overuse a corporate crutch word, I’m just acknowledging diversity (one type, but diversity just the same).
Is this unique to African-Americans? Do other ethnicities and/or groups do this?
One of my favorite groups performing one of my favorite songs live. I miss talent being a pre-requisite. (And they were pretty nice to look at too. Let’s just be honest. That helped a lot.)
En Vogue – “Free Your Mind”
Growing up, your parents raise/groom/train you to be certain ways. No, we’re not animals but we are guided by our parents, either by the things they do or don’t do, tell us or don’t tell us. There are plenty exceptions to the rules but the goal of most parents is to protect and “properly” raise their kids. Equip and encourage them with the tools and confidence they’ll need to achieve their goals. These are all noble aspirations.
Beyond the (hopeful) comfort of home, every person has certain things they feel are important to their child’s ability to effectively navigate the outside world. Some things are somewhat universal (i.e. traffic laws, waiting in line, “please” ,”Yes ma’am”/”No, sir”, etc). But for each parent, there are rules of life that are more specific to their life experiences, whether those experiences were shaped by gender, race, religion, class, etc. Whether your parent believes in the superiority (or inferiority) of one group over another, most will try to equip their child for other people’s view on the matter. For me growing up, while gender played a small role, my difference was my race. Being black meant a lot more than requiring the brown crayon instead of the peach or being less likely to sunburn. (Seriously, I was 21 before I had my first sunburn and I only noticed when I started to peel.)
As a brown baby, I was given a collection of “other” rules to make it easier to operate in world not designed or “run” by people who looked like me (or necessarily valued looking like me). Now, I was taught and understood that white people were not “the” or an enemy. They were just the people who could make my life especially difficult. Of course that understanding has evolved with age and experience but things were relatively simple for a nine-year-old black girl growing up in the not-so-reformed South in the 90s.
A few examples:
Persona: Stealing/Shoplifting is bad. And while I may not be doing anything wrong, I will be watched. Advice: Never open or mess around in your bag while in a store. Preferably zip/close it before you walk in.
Image: You should love yourself and how God made you. But we press/straighten our hair before we go see God in church on Sundays. Sunday Best meant straight hair (among other things…)
Image: Also “professional” women and beautiful little girls have straight hair. DON’T mess up your hair!
Language: Whatever slang you use at home cannot be used in public. It’s just not right and other/white people will think you’re not smart. (This was well before the ebonics as a language debate.)
Persona: Watch your temper. People will be afraid of you and be unable to explain why. You will have to be more patient, more forgiving and more resilient.
School/Professional: Grades will not speak for themselves. You may have to work twice as hard for people to consider you to be just as good. God forbid you ever be better/smarter…
School/Professional: Also, don’t ever give anyone the opportunity to accuse you of cheating (along the same lines as stealing). You’ll be a suspect before blond Suzy. Prove them wrong.
And many more…
There are a lot of little things that help black kids understand that while they may be equal according to God and an amended constitution, in the eyes of many people who hold the keys to their comfort and/or success, they may not be. More importantly, people invested in their success (and mental health) work to teach those kids how to navigate the waters and handle the less than choice situations. I’ve been called names, physically assaulted, ignored, picked on, offended and completely avoided because you can’t see my veins and I could pull off dreads. In elementary school, a teacher pulled me out of the gifted program because no black student had qualified. She felt I needed to be retested if I was to continue in it. I was asked by a little girl on the bus, “Who rolled you in the mud when you were born?” (Lovely, right?) A librarian in a small midwestern town I was visiting questioned if I was actually reading the books I was checking out or just carrying them. I’ve watched store owners watch me as I watched other less tan people happily slip objects into their bags. In college, I was attacked on campus because of two things: 1.) I was black and 2.) he was drunk. However with everything, I am very fortunate and thankful I was born black in the 80s rather than anytime sooner. We are evening out. Eventually everyone will be a little more tan. I apologize in advance to the sunscreen companies.
My point is not that life (at least mine) is terrible. It’s jut life. We all have prejudices and -isms we’re subject to. For me, black, female and middle class quickly sum it up. There are good and bad, defeating and empowering things about just about any label I could give myself. My point is that my parents, family, teachers, friends all worked to shape and prepare me for the status quo. I’ll never be thin, pale, blond or blue-eyed. BUT I can be molded in ways to make my differences less offensive to those fitting those descriptions. I’ve been packaged in a way that might make it easier for WASPs (White Anglo-Saxon Protestants) to accept.
Throughout my life, I’ve been described as an oreo – black on the outside, white on the inside. I’ve been told I’m the smartest (0r only smart) black person someone has met. Been described as being a very white black person (as if that’s a thing, let alone a good thing). Asked why I speak so well. Been told I am (surprisingly) respectful. Informed my neck doesn’t move nearly as much or my voice doesn’t get as loud as some (of my) people. Been seen as an “exception”.
As sad (or infuriating) as all of those things may be, they probably make all of the people who worked so hard to prepare me for the “real” world very proud on a private, painful, never-to-be-openly-discussed level. I was born in America, raised (mostly) in Black America and “Made” for White America.
Yes, I just love this song and Carlos Santana’s Mexican so it works, right? Rob Thomas’ wife (the lady in the window) is Puerto Rican. Close enough…
Cinco de Mayo!!! For many people, May 5th has something to do with a Mexican battle and is a perfect excuse to gorge on chips and salsa, inhale soft shell tacos and drink a lot of (if not too many) Corona’s and Mexican Martinis. Traditionally for me, Cinco de Mayo celebrations are about finding the most colorful dress you have and preparing to drink to oblivion (or most often in my case watching other people drink to oblivion). There’s been very little history or real knowledge associated with the date. But today I learned something new about the holiday. Who knew Cinco de Mayo had a (near) direct relationship to the emancipation of slavery?
“During this time, Confederate General Robert E. Lee was enjoying success, and had the French defeated México at Puebla, France would have aided the South in the American Civil War in order to free Southern ports of the Union Blockade. The Mexicans had won a great victory that kept Napoleon III from supplying the confederate rebels for another year, allowing the United States to build the greatest army the world had ever seen.”
While there’s a lot more to it, the success of the Mexicans over the French aided in the Yankees over the Confederates. Viva la Mexico!
John Mayer has been in the news lately. Instead of dating another tabloid-worthy Hollywood blonde, he’s speaking with PlayBoy and performing an ill-advised brain dump. Now, I’m a John Mayer fan. I know that he comes off as, and probably is, a royal douche bag. But what can I say? I like his music. Much like Robin Thicke, he’s a guilty pleasure I feel no need to defend. I’ll just politely change the music if someone doesn’t care to listen to him whine in my car.
Unfortunately, John Mayer is one of the many recent celebrities who believe and, more importantly, who reporters and fans believe should be heard. Everyone has an opinion, famous or not. With the ever-expanding array of access points to celebrities, we learn more than we may need to about our favorite pop stars, rappers, actors and athletes. Some know how to just be good at what they do without sharing the details of their personal lives (for example Beyonce). While others attempt to revive dead careers by allowing us access to EVERYTHING (for example Bret Michaels). Either way, as the fans/consumers, we have to decide just how much we care. John Mayer’s latest interview reminds me why it’s best to just appreciate the music. I don’t need to necessarily appreciate the person.
The only reason I paid any attention to this interview was all of the drama following it. Aside from sharing unsavory details about his obsessions with porn and masturbating, interesting comments about exes and unnecessarily using the N-word to justify a hood pass, John Mayer is apparently not interested in sleeping with black women. Shocking, I know! But who cares? As a black woman, I’m not all that interested in sleeping with him either. My heart’s not broken.
PlayBoy: Do black women throw themselves at you?
Mayer: I don’t think I open myself to it. My dick is sort of like a white supremacist. I’ve got a Benetton heart and a fuckin’ David Duke cock. I’m going to start dating separately from my dick.
I’m not trying to downplay the possible connotations. Maybe John is a racist. Maybe he considers his overworked dick too good for a little chocolate. While eliminating the possibility of a fruitful relationship with a “sista” is unfortunate, it’s not innately wrong. As long as John sees no problem with other people doing it, he’s completely entitled to his preferences. If I were to say I prefer black men over white, does that make me a racist or just aware of my preferences? Somehow I feel Usher wouldn’t be shunned for saying he prefers to date black women…
When probed by the reporter, John admits that he has found some black women attractive.
Mayer: I always thought Holly Robinson Peete was gorgeous. Every white dude loved Hilary from The Fresh Prince of Bel-Air. And Kerry Washington. She’s superhot, and she’s also white-girl crazy. Kerry Washington would break your heart like a white girl. Just all of a sudden she’d be like, “Yeah, I sucked his dick. Whatever.” And you’d be like, “What? We weren’t talking about that.” That’s what “Heartbreak Warfare” is all about, when a girl uses jealousy as a tactic.
Funny. I don’t know if that statement is more offensive to black women or white women. I wonder how he thinks a black woman breaks your heart. And are all white women manipulative bitches? Oh John, it may not be that chocolate’s your problem. You just might like people as immature as you are.
When this interview came out and all of the SHOCKED responses started, I thought there had to be more to this story. I don’t regularly read PlayBoy articles so I had to look it up. After reading the entire article, I was more bored and annoyed than offended or outraged. I understand why these shocked responses about racial comments came out. Aside from describing a generally goodie two-shoes ex as being sexual napalm, there really wasn’t anything else all that interesting to mention. John Mayer seems like an intelligent person who attempts to balance sounding important and indifferent. Somehow he generally manages to just sound like a douche.
What I found more interesting was his description of “being black.” As a black person, I don’t know if I can describe being black. Sure, I could spout out historical facts and statistics, but I really feel it’s about experiences related to those facts and stats. Thank goodness John Mayer could explain it to me.
Mayer: What is being black? It’s making the most of your life, not taking a single moment for granted. Taking something that’s seen as a struggle and making it work for you, or you’ll die inside. Not to say that my struggle is like the collective struggle of black America. But maybe my struggle is similar to one black dude’s.
I’m happy you realize your struggles aren’t necessarily equivalent to ours, John. Very happy. Now tell me about being Latino or Asian…
Let me state for the record, “I don’t understand why any man would not be attracted to black women.” We come in all shapes and sizes, features and attributes. It’s a pity any man would deny himself the love a good black woman but if that’s what he so chooses to do, the fault is on him. There are plenty of men, black, white and other, who can appreciate our beauty. Why should we care about John Mayer’s lose?
(Plus, he’s just young and naive. Everyone knows black women age exceptionally well. For the most part, our skin stays taut. Fewer wrinkles, fewer apparent birthdays. Black don’t crack, baby. AND we don’t have to tan. This beautiful bronzed look is year-round, free and natural. 🙂 )
A clip of the song “Almost There” from Disney’s “The Princess and the Frog”
Over the Christmas holidays, I took my mother and grandmother to go see Disney’s “The Princess and the Frog”. Three generations of black women sat in a movie theater in the middle of the day on a Wednesday to somewhat celebrate Disney’s first black Disney princess.
I won’t give the movie away but it IS a Disney movie afterall. There’s a sweet, smart young woman facing hardships that can only be righted with hard work, magic, music and a man she hates only to eventually love.
Now when the buzz about the movie began a few months ago, I heard critics praise Disney’s move to finally include African-Americans in their special princess clique and others berate Disney for having the first and only black princess only be a human for 1/4 of the movie. (You see Tiana turns into a frog when she kisses the cursed prince…)
You know, I get it. I see both points and why people would be so upset. What other princess is an animal the vast majority of the movie? The closest I can think of is Ariel in The Little Mermaid. But at least she was human-like from the waist up. Is this unfair? Maybe. Would I prefer to see Tiana as the beautiful human rather than the adorable frog? Maybe. But do I (want to) believe Disney was being racist? No, not really.
Of the nine “Disney Princesses“, four of them were already princesses. The other five were peasants, poor, lower class beauties who strived for equality and success and became princesses. Tiana is one of these five. Would it’ve been nice to avoid some of the stereotypes? Sure. Were the accents and assumptions of lower education all that necessary? Probably not. But the fact that Tiana is a poor, black, and from New Orleans isn’t such a bad or surprising thing. Disney (and most entertainment companies) play on stereotypes. While the heroine was poor and black, her rich, spoiled friend was a little round, blond and always in pink. The prince was beautiful and immature. The villain was thin and dark (in fact he looked very much like The Lion King’s Scar). Her friends were bumbling and sweet, parents supportive and wise. And most importantly, Tiana’s success was based (mostly) on her determination, intelligence and big heart.
Growing up, my mother made a conscious effort to surround me with dolls who looked like myself. Why get me a blond Barbie? Beauty was defined as blond, blue-eyed and pale everywhere outside of my home, even on the television and books within it. Why force her daughter to stare at and idolize something she’ll never be? Was giving me all black dolls a little extreme? Yeah, maybe. But you know what? I grew up thinking Christie was just a pretty as Barbie. Barbie just had better outfits. Plus, my grandmother and stepmother added a little diversity to my dolls with Barbies (blond), Midges (red head), Teresas (brunette/Hispanic), Skippers (blond little sister) and Kens (blond boyfriend). And you know, Christie didn’t even need Ken. She had Steven. I played with them all. Barbies, Cabbage Patch dolls, average baby dolls. If I’d had more/any asian dolls, my trunk would’ve looked like Brangelina’s brood.
Conclusion: If I were 7 (shoot, maybe even at 25), I’d want a Tiana Barbie. She was pretty, smart, brave and successful. And it’s finally nice to have a Disney princess who looks like me. And you know what else? After Pocahontas, Tiana’s the 2nd American princess. Fancy that!
Contemplating asking for my first Barbie in 15 years,
Comments and conversations made me realize that I failed to really make my point (if I truly have one) in my last post “Denying My Roots By Relaxing Them?”. As usual, my post was littered with tangential stories and anecdotes. But what it seemed to lack was a point. Why do I even concern myself with my hair and other’s perceptions of it?
I want to look good and feel good about the way I look. It’s just that simple. My aversion to going natural is largely vanity. Because I have no idea what my natural hair looks like anymore, I wouldn’t know what to expect until it was too late. I don’t think I’ll look good with an afro. And what if I don’t? My hair grows soooo slowly that not liking it is really not an option. It could easily take 10 years for my hair to get back to the short bob I have right now. I feel my reasoning must be equivalent to those people who refuse to go back to their natural hair color from blond (or whatever color). We all know it’s not real but they just KNOW they look better that way.
A reason to go natural, on the other hand, is financial. Properly maintaining relaxed hair can be expensive. Every 8 weeks, I pay someone $70 to straighten my roots and trim the ends. That’s $420 every year. This doesn’t include highlighting, deep conditioners and the random “it’s not time for a relaxer but I have to look good tonight” appointments. Those would probably push it up to around $600 a year. Now, I’m not exactly sure how expensive maintaining natural hair would be but I have to guess that it’s cheaper than that. Just trimming and conditioning, no chemical processes required.
So why not just cut it off and perm it again if I don’t like it? I don’t really have a good answer to that. I’m not a huge fan of ultra-short hair on myself. If my hair is going to be permed, it might as well be as long as it is now.
“But don’t you feel you’re denying the real you by chemically altering your hair?” Sure, I can see the logic in that question but I just ask that people see the logic in my response. I have no desire to deny myself. I’m just doing what I prefer. I don’t see perming my hair and being any different from putting on make-up, getting lasik or shaving my legs. Sure, bare skin, bad eye-sight and hairy legs are all natural but no one seems to question my desire to change those things. So why question my hair choices? You don’t have to like it and I welcome any discussion about my choices. But if your only point is that I’m wrong, do us both a favor, save your breath and just think it very hard.
Running her fingers through her short but straightened hair,
I wish there was a video for this version but alas, just the song.
India.Arie “I Am Not My Hair” featuring P!nk (Please note they both punctuation in their names. Haha)
I recently had the pleasure of having dinner and with two British gentlemen during a conference. While the conversation covered a number of topics, we spent quite a bit of time on race relations and related issues. I foresee any number of future posts inspired by this conversation. One comment in particular made me think about my overall experience with my hair.
One of the guys (of Asian descent, while that distinction is not necessary, I believe it helps add a little color to the story, no pun intended) asked me innocently but pointedly if my hair looks like that in the morning. At first, it took me a moment to grasp his meaning. Of course, I’ll need to comb it but for the most part, unless sweat or water are a factor, I don’t have to do all that much to my hair. Only having to wash it once a week, I generally just get up and go.
Of course, he didn’t necessarily mean the “morning” so much as was my hair naturally straight. completely unashamed, I shook my head no and explained that it was chemically straightened and that my roots have to be processed every 2 months. When asked why I did this to myself, I explained that it’s been this way since age 12 and that “going natural” would require cutting it all off. I’m not entirely confident I could pull off the little boy look. The other gentleman spoke of a woman he’d dated from the West Indies (I believe) who’d decided to “go natural” and how he’d quite liked it. This comment is also important but I’ll get into that later. The most important thing to take from their comments was that while they accepted it, neither understood the need/desire to permanently breakdown the chemical bonds of my hair.
So why do I relax my hair? (You’ll commonly hear black women refer to perming their hair. Our perms are actually relaxers. They straighten, not curl. The processes do different things. A perm creates temporary bonds. That’s why the loosen up over time. A relaxer on the other hand breaks down bonds. There’s no coming back from that. It’s permanent until you cut the treated hair off.) There’s no need to really dig into the history. In the early 1900s, both commercial relaxers and hot combs (the precursor to the Chi) were unleashed upon the general public. Needless to say, black women around the world have been straightening their hair for 100 years. Walk through any African-American self-help section in a bookstore and you’ll no doubt find some book about the black woman ideal and our struggles with our hair. History and magazines tell us we straighten our hair to emulate the Caucasian ideal. But I’m not also bleaching my skin, my hair will never make it past my shoulders, and I’m obviously not going to be able to pass for white, so why do I relax my hair?
There’s no simple answer to that question. The closest I can get is fear. I’ve never known my hair to be any other way. Sure, throughout my childhood, my hair was “natural” but it was still straightened. The hot comb usually came out on Saturday so you’re hair would still be presentable on Sunday for church. I’ve always strived for long, straight, full, beautiful hair. As I came to accept my hair would never look like Tatiyana Ali (Fresh Prince reference for you) or Naomi Campbell’s, I decided to do the best I could with what I had. For 13 years, as funds and availability allowed, I’ve paid someone to burn the hell out of my scalp to straighten the “new growth” aka my roots.
In college, I remember getting into a debate with an African-American male administrator at a conference funny enough about race and ethnicity. While in a group circle to discuss the sessions of the day, he launched into a tirade about black women relaxing their hair. With his age (50s-ish) and “participation” in the Civil Rights Movement, he felt completely justified in lecturing us. (I’ll have to say that I believe he just saw a collection of early 20s black women as easy targets to vent. His wife had bone-straight, chemically-altered hair.) Although a few of the women in the room had natural hair, the general consensus among us all was that to relax or not to relax was a personal choice, usually driven by taste and convenience. The same reasons I could use to explainrelaxing my hair, another women could use to justify going natural. And you know what? More power to us both.
The struggles I remember with my hair during childhood are not necessarily what I’d endure now. For the most part, the issues arose because someone was trying to keep my hair straight and “manageable.” Rain, sweat, swimming, basically anything involving moisture turned 30 minutes worth of straightening into a dual-textured, frizzy mess. I’m not sure I’d experience the same battles now. If I were go natural, my hair (texture-willing) would be worn in such a way that water would not by my enemy. What a novel concept! (Washing my hair once a week really limits my water-based activities. Sure, I could wash it more often but I’m not really willing to go through the 1 1/2 hr washing-drying-straightening-curling process more often. Some people find the once-a-week thing gross. Please understand that my hair does not get oily or greasy. I actually have to put the moisture into my hair. Washing it everyday would require buckets of leave in conditioner or cause it to get brittle and break off. Trust me. Once a week is the way to go for me.)
I’ve recently begun to contemplate just being bold and cutting it all off, starting over. Aside from the initial shock, I’m trying to imagine how bad it could be. Aside from the extreme possibility of resembling a little boy for several years, I’m at a loss for “good reasons” not to do it. Well, of course there’s always the possibility that I’ll absolutely hate it. Slow hair growth makes this decision especially difficult.
If I ever choose to take the plunge and rediscover my hair unaltered, it will be for no reasons other than vanity and ease. I would love to not hide from the rain, go swimming at will and not have to burn my ears accidentally or scalp intentionally every 8 weeks. But I also like running my fingers through my straight, although short, hair and blending in. Natural hair seems to make a personal and/or political statement I don’t really care to make. Me going natural would not necessarily mean I’m trying ot be “more black” or embracing my cultural roots by growing out my physical ones. For good or bad, my roots are just a part of me that showcases my melting pot heritage. Relaxers or afros, they all seem to define or explain everything and nothing about me.
Wishing my hair would grow faster so this decision wouldn’t seem so monumental,
“The African-American experience” has been a hot topic in the media for the last year. With Barack Obama running for president (and incidentally being elected), black hope, deliverance, equality has been all over the print, TV, radio and online media. Some feel a black President signals the day African-Americans have become fully equal. Others consider it to be a stepping stone but not the finale. Either way, being Black has been discussed but not really examined.
What does it mean to be black/African-American? It’s really a personal definition. There are some common traits/histories that the group shares but YOUR experiences are the most important definers. Rather than speak for a rather large group, I’ll just try to explain my feelings about it.
For most people that I know (that aren’t black), being “something”, whatever it is, is defined by a history, what your particular group has “gone through.” While you may be American, you’re also Greek, Spanish, German, Italian, Panamanian, Indian, Canadian, Nigerian, Irish, Brazilian, etc. Just being able to claim a country and culture outside of the U.S. seems to empower people to be something extra, justifying failed attempts to learn a second language, perfecting one “authentic” dish or a trip you can’t afford to the land of your forefathers. I’ve realized that over the years, I’ve grown almost bitter about this lack of extended identity. Yes, African-American culture is rich and thick. But it’s short. What’s 300 years in the grand scheme of things?
Let’s say a generation is 25 years long. 300 years is roughly 12 generations. Growing up, I was blessed to spend time with great-grandmothers, grandmothers and my parents. We represented 4 generations, a third of African-American history. That kind of realization helps put the reasons I feel the way I do into perspective.
The roots of “my people” were ripped up and displaced. Sure, I could “go back to Africa” to visit the land of my forefathers but the continent’s just a little big and somewhat diverse. True, most slaves brought to the Americas were from West Africa but that only narrows it down to a minimum of 5 currently sovereign nations. That’s like saying I could be German, Swedish, Turkish, Italian or Austrian. Just a little different, right?
Like my family, the vast majority of African-Americans have family members of different, usually European, connections. The only part of my family that I can trace back more than 5 generations is Irish. There’s nothing wrong with that. It’s kind of cool. But for some reason, I don’t feel a strong connection to Dublin, U2 or redheads. I giggle when I say it out loud, especially around St. Patrick’s Day. I’m African-American. Our family also has Cherokee roots. Unfortunately, I know very little about Cherokee history or culture. It feels almost wrong to claim it. Everyone from the South, seems to have a Cherokee great-grandmother somewhere in their family tree. So I go back to being just black. What is that?
In college, I had several conversations with African immigrant students about identification while in the US. Their ethnicities covered every major region of the continent, different languages, religions, cultures, histories. But one thing most of the students I spoke with agreed on was the fact that they didn’t want to be considered black or African-American while in the States. At first, I thought it was because they’d like to be identified with/by their home country. And while that’s true, several people explained to me that it was equally important for them not to be tied to the sordid, unfavorable image of African-Americans here. How could people who ARE the African part of my African-American identity be SO against being what I am? What’s wrong with it? Unfortunately, many of the stereotypes we peddle here are bought around the world. But there’s enough to say about that for a separate post. Suffice it to say, I was surprised, hurt and later educated about how we’re seen by our theoretical brothers and sisters and fully get where they may be coming from.
There’s nothing I can do about having a limited history. And I’m not ashamed of any aspect of the history I can claim now. It’s just that I sometimes wish I had more I could claim, hope to embrace, love enough to teach. African-American history is completely American history. While parts are often (intentionally or not) left out of our traditional K-12 history books, African-American history is nothing but American history. There is no and never was an Africa-America. Our history is just red (blood, sweat and tears), white (captors to coworkers) and blue(s). Every now and again, I kinda wish “we” could share the same kind of specialness other cultures do, being able to claim (if only partially) somewhere/something else. Not complaints, just thoughts.
An interesting study was announced this week. According to the Davie Brown Index, 8 of the top 10 “marketable” celebrities are African-American. Surprisingly, only numbers 2 and 6 are Caucasian. President Obama usurped Tom Hanks this year. In descending order:
Barack Obama
Tom Hanks
Will Smith
Michael Jordan
Morgan Freeman (I LOVE him! 🙂 )
George Clooney
Denzel Washington
Michelle Obama
Oprah Winfrey
Tiger Woods
In this case, marketable doesn’t mean the best product-hawking endorsement but “a celebrity’s ability to influence brand affinity and consumer intent.” Basically, the study is about celebrities people trust. Who do you want to listen to? Whose shampoo would you use? Whose blood pressure medication would you talk to your doctor about?
The DBI is a tool for agencies and companies to know which celebrities would best fit their product communication goals. “The DBI includes more than 1,500 celebrities that are each evaluated by 1,000 consumers. These evaluations are the results of a panel made up of 4.5 million consumers.” Respondents who are aware of a certain celebrity are then asked a standard set of questions about that celebrity. Using a six-point scale, eight key attributes are evaluated, including appeal, notice, trendsetter, influence, trust, endorsement, breakthough and aspiration.
President Obama ranked 1st in four categories (trust, influence, trendsetter, breakthrough) and 2nd to Bill Gates in one category (aspirational). He finsihed 5th in [product] endorsement.
I think it’s interesting that African-Americans rank so highly in this “celebrity respect” study. While I completely understand the selection of these individuals, the percentage just seems odd. White, black, brown or the other, who do you think is missing from this list?
The Truth: According to Jo'van 