A little local color consciousness

English: Curtis Mayfield performing for Dutch televisie in 1972 Nederlands: Curtis Mayfield tijdens een televisieoptreden in Nederland in 1972 (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

 

I just took part in a discussion on the Black Unbelievers Facebook page about color consciousness. A young woman talked about an African-American co-worker who is ashamed of her complexion and may be passing along her values to her children. She has said that she does not want them becoming involved with dark skinned people. In fact she encourages them to stay out of the sun during the summer. My response was that this is a woman with a deep self hatred and that there are volumes about this topic.

 

I googled the term color consciousness in the African-American community and lots of books came up. I also remember that Marlon Riggs was very interested in the topic. Song writers like Nina Simone and Curtis Mayfield sang very movingly about this subject. It was no surprise that they were also very dark skinned. My sister told me you’ve got to play the hand that you’ve been dealt.

 

African-Americans have had difficulty accepting that concept as we continually attempt to lighten our complexion, straighten our hair and reshape our features to look more like the dominant culture in our society.

In this blog I usually deal with mental illness and rejecting one’s color represents a singular type of distress. If you look in the mirror and see yourself as lighter than you really are, that will impact everything you do. At times I have spent a lot of my time with white people, not because I wanted to be like them but because we shared certain ideas about how society should be changed. At the same time, I was not a part of the black church which cut me off from a large segment of the community. I believe that my life is more balanced and I can share what I have learned with others the way I did tonight with the Black Nonbelievers.

 

English: This drawing (pencil on a4 paper) depicts singer, pianist and civil rights activist Nina Simone in the mid- to late sixties, the high-point of her commercial career. Her hair style (she was one of the first artists to publicly wear an afro) and emotive, slightly agressive expression are illustrative of her character at the time. (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

 

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So, You’re Black, Too

Today I learned something very different about a young woman named Susan. Before I explain this story I will tell you something about me. I am a dark-skinned African-American with prominent African features. My ex-wife is Irish-American and I have dated an equal number of white and black women. I was part of the generation that welcomed the development of the term African-American to describe my heritage. As Jesse Jackson said, “Afro-American is a hairdo.”

It is also important to understand that I consider myself secular and I use the terms Unitarian, atheist and humanist interchangeably to describe my beliefs. Now, let’s return to the story. I attend a weekly gathering in the community with several people, a few of whom I know outside the group. One person who I particularly enjoyed meeting was Susan, a young white woman. As today’s gathering was ending I congratulated her before I left. My mission for this afternoon was to complete a homework assignment in Social Work Research Methods using a statistical package. (So, naturally, I’m here writing my blog.)

I stayed around a few minutes to talk with a few other people and by the time  I headed to the parking lot, Susan was sitting in a car with Karen, one of the other participants. Karen motioned me over to talk which I did.  This was somewhat unusual for me because I often tend to rush away without giving anyone a second thought. But this time, things would be different.

Karen reminded me about some things, like the fact she had given me her phone number but I had not called her. I had no real explanation for why I had not  telephoned. She had even tried inviting me over to her house. All I could do was repeat that I was too busy. While I have enjoyed the few times I have reached out to people this semester, I sometimes prefer that people read my blog instead of talking with me.

Karen asked whether Susan had given me her phone number and Susan responded that she usually does not give out her number. As Susan was talking I started noticing she had  a voice that sounded a little “black.” If you find this part of the essay offensive, tough, because I’m the author and I’m writing for my benefit, not yours. In this rapidly shifting conversation Karen said that Susan was in fact biracial, with a white mother and an African-American father. This came as quite a surprise because she looks like a white woman with freckles. By contrast her brother is nearer to the complexion of President Obama. I thought, “so you’re black, too” but didn’t say it. Instead, I asked what kind of special challenges she had faced.

Indeed, there were many. Her strongest identification is with her Christian faith which guides the way that she perceives people. She expects Christians to be understanding and act that way. It seems that people sometimes expect her to make a choice between the two halves of her heritage. This reminds me of the Curtis Mayfield  song from my youth “If you had a choice of colors, which one would you choose, my brothers.” This seemed like an unusual question because Mayfield was also very dark.

Susan said that white people sometimes said things in front of her about African-Americans without realizing that she, too, was one. But it was difficult for her to respond to African-Americans who expect for her to forget that she’s also white.  I debated terms like “white”, “black”, “brown”, “African-American” and “European-American” with her. She prefers to talk of white and black while I defended the use of African-American and European-American.

It was good talk about our perspectives and understand our differences. It added to the picture that I had of Susan, as someone probably twenty-five years younger than me and facing a completely different set of identity issues than I had known.

I traveled the road from shame and self-hatred to pride and found meaning and strength in declaring that I was African-American.    Susan found herself in a kind of in between world trying to find new answers. Sometimes it helps to sit and talk and ask ourselves who we really are. Especially when who we are may be very different from who other people think we are.