At clubs and bars, in online chats, “I don’t like Black guys, but you’re cute,” or, “You’re lucky you don’t look Black,” are offered as actual pickup lines, not occasionally but frequently.
Because I hold so much pain around not being seen as Black, it is easy for me to forget that there is a much greater amount of pain that comes with being seen as Black.Īs a queer person, some of the ugliest anti-Blackness I’ve experienced has come from other queer people of color. Having to fight for my place in the Black community, being called upon almost constantly to demonstrate my authenticity, prove my worthiness to self-identify, has at times left me exhausted, wounded, and enraged. I try my best to hold their pain, make room for their confusion, while also underlining the most important thing I can teach them: Being light skinned is a privilege, not a struggle. I see them grappling with identity, self-acceptance, with where they fit into the larger Black community, and the struggles currently renting that community apart. In the youth work I do-both professionally and as an independent community member-I often reach out to other light-skinned, half-white and white-passing young people. The racial context I inhabit changes quickly based on who I’m standing with, talking to, or whose arm is linked in mine. Only when I am walking with my roommate, or another Black friend are the acknowledgements-head nods, handshakes, good afternoons-directed towards me through proximity. On my way to the train, passing folks on the sidewalk, there is usually no eye contact made, no attempt at a connection. In Chicago where I currently live, other Black people usually do not acknowledge me. Most of the slang and cultural cues I picked up to help me fit in were learned from friends, neighbors and Black popular culture, because they were not present in my household.
#LIGHT SKINNED BLACK BABY SKIN#
My class status in addition to my light skin called my Blackness into constant question in class, in my after school program, and wherever else I met other Black people. Though I grew up in a somewhat racially and economically diverse neighborhood, my family is wealthy. It wasn’t until I hit puberty and entered into a largely Puerto Rican middle school that I started being seen as Latino-a shock both because I am not, but also because I had rarely been identified by others as a person of color before.
For most of my early childhood I was universally read as white.
Community gathers in front of the Wellington Avenue Church of Christ in Chicago, IL for a vigil in honor of TT Saffore.
0 kommentar(er)
