Passing...I'd rather be anything BUT Black

WOMANIST

When I used to write a lot of poetry as a kid and in undergrad, things would come to me at very random moments and if I didn't write it down immediately, I was sure to forget the epiphanous moment. Well that's exactly what happened with this particular blog post. I was on the way to Bible study yesterday for a live dramatization of the Last Supper and this topic came to me, it had been something I had been thinking of but it was merely a short fleeting thought of recognition.

 

Passing yesterday: Passing, racially, was a means of survival for many Blacks during the times of open discrimination. These were typically people of mixed race genetically, Black and White, but phenotypically their White genes were expressed more. Knowing the 1 drop rule (1 drop of Black blood, makes you Black), there would be many people who could pass. This rule was made to keep the races separate and pure. Passing granted them the opportunity to walk about town without discrimination and even get jobs they wouldn't otherwise be granted had the world known they were Black. That same confidence they could exude while out in public, was not the same when they returned to their Black communities. Imagine being treated better as a Black person by Whites and returning to your community, no bueno. This created distance between those who could (pass) and those who couldn't.
 

Passing today: Today, we have a new wave of Blacks who pass. They aren't passing as a means of survival or to get a better job, they are doing it merely to create a distance between themselves and being racially identified as Black. It's the "Native American, Irish, Guyanese, Korean" you find in people's Twitter and IG profiles. Announcing to the world "I am different. I am exotic. I am not average and these nationalities listed above make me better". Anything except for Black is acceptable as a racial identity, but the more the merrier. The more nationalities you can list, the more appeasing you are to the gender you are attempting to attract, the more exotic. The more distance you create between yourself and the savages of Africa. Anything you are mixed with that makes your skin lighter than the tones of West Africa makes you more appealing. It's the reason why Black women feel accomplished when asked "what are you mixed with". The reason I smiled when my mom said I looked exotic when I sent her a selfie, then I had to correct myself because I had fallen into the trap like everyone else. As you can see, I continue to struggle with wanting to appear more than Black, the reason I smile when people ask "what are you" on a rare occasion.

Selfie.



National Geographic predicts the average human will look like this woman by 2050. What woman of color isn't slightly intimated by a curly haired, light eyed, light skinned woman? Very few.  

 

I write these posts not to uplift myself and make myself seem better than, but to bring what's happening on a subconscious level to my extremely aware and mindful conscious. I remember being on the school bus one day and a boy asking me "Are you part Chinese," I frowned my face no, but was secretly excited that I could be identified as something other than "regular ol' Black". Maybe it's why I've noticed that I love a cat eye liner line, because it makes Black women appear more Asian and I enjoy the way Black and Asian mixed people look.

School to Prison...

WOMANIST

So I'm back to working with inmates and I thoroughly enjoy it and no longer dread going to work Monday-Friday. I'm providing substance abuse counseling to inmates there and on last Wednesday I worked late. I decided to stay late to attend a meeting the clients go to, not AA, but it's basically an intro to AA/NA. On the day I attended it was a "graduation" day, they received certificates of completion from the facilitator. Across the hall were other inmates in their unit and I couldn't help but to think as I watched them maneuver throughout the environment; this resembles a college dorm. Upwards of 30 men in a unit, bunk beds, lounge area with chess tables, TV, DVD player, showers, and toilets. Most walked with a purpose and maneuvered throughout their environment with familiarity, du-rags tied, laughter with their peers, and phone calls being made. The camaraderie is always a beautiful thing to see in a treatment setting, but I couldn't help but to feel saddened when I noticed the ease of adjustment to their environment.

As a Black woman, I began to think about the number of Black men incarcerated, who will circle in and out of prison their entire lives, with no marketable work skills except "I get paper". The same men who are thugs out in the street, chasing paper, but when they become locked up label their mother as their major support system. No letters or calls from their boys "on the outside", no money on their books, and no visits, because of course what thug willingly goes to jail. Being a young woman in this environment, their eyes poke and prod at me as if I'm a chic on the street. No manners, just staring through the window of their locked-in confines yelling "GOOD MOOOORRRRNNIINNNN! HOW YOU DOING?!" through the approximately 4x6" window. Learning nothing of being different than the person you came in here to be, exuding the same behavior they did out on the street. There's one young man who consistently stares at me when I go to see my clients, gleaming the usual "what's up ma" face, with the combo biting of the lip. One day he began speaking to coworkers and finally worked up the nerve to say hello to me by then he had been annoyingly staring at me for weeks, my response "hello, my name is Tiffany. You stare at me a lot, you know who I am". Nipped that in the bud.

I say all of this to say, I REALLY enjoy my job. There's nothing more gratifying (to me) than being in a jail. I enjoy working with marginalized populations, advocating for people, and telling it like it is. Feelings aren't as easy to hurt, they're skin is a little thicker, yet they possess a child-like innocence of wanting someone to care about them, because most of the time they never had that growing up. If you're a parent, raise your children, especially boys, but if you don't, I'll be glad to work with them in the future, they keep me employed.