I’m trying to imagine what it was like growing up in the middle of the twentieth century. Especially being black in that time period. It must have been exciting and scary. Full of the anxiety that comes with the unknown.
“Will things get better? Or will there be a backlash and push us back to where we started?”
You’re young. Full of potential. But there are numerous blockades put in front of you simply because of your ancestral populations’ relative excess of melanin. That scarlet letter you can’t hide from. It’s painted onto every part of what’s visible. You can’t pull it from your neck and heave that yoke. It’s not tattooed onto your skin as a set of letters and numbers. It’s not sewn onto your hat and jacket. There is no out. There is no end. This is who you are. And you are punished for it.
But there is a glimmer of hope in this turmoil. It’s a sense of pride welling up in you as a consequence of others like you who refuse to see their coloring as a yoke, but as something to revere. Something to be proud of. People chant, “Black pride!”
Boy does that sound good.
You’ve taken what was an ill and turned it into a trophy of sorts. Something to cherish. Something to wield. You are not black. You are “Black and Proud!”
And why not? Why should you not be proud? Who told you that you shouldn’t be proud anyways? Ahh…that’s right…people who sought power over you. You weren’t the problem. They were the problem. They are the problem. Now is the time you fix that.
So you push into the streets. You are black. You are proud. And nobody will convince you otherwise. It is your badge of honor. And it works.
You don’t simply convince individuals. You change the law. You change The Constitution! Things are going to change. And they did. You have new power — not just in law, but in society itself. People are forced to respect you and eventually it becomes taboo not to. At least publicly.
Years start to pass by. The novelty starts to wear off. Progress is made one person at a time. Some take advantage. Some do not. But there are other aspects of this change you didn’t expect.
Part of the message in the midst of “Black is Beautiful” is something called “colorblind.” They say we should value people based on the content of their character and not the color of their skin. You’re not so sure you like this idea. Can both be true? Maybe. It makes sense and seems like the rational and logical thing to do, but it’s missing something. For you at least. You want people to see your color.
After all, you have constructed an identity based on your pride of that color.
There’s more.
People seem to take “colorblindness” seriously. And not just in word, but in deed as well. People of different colors start to get married more and more frequently. The nation’s people start to look at these unions with less and less consternation. It seems like they don’t really care so much.
Some still do. But more and more, year by year, less so.
Then their children show up and you’re not so sure what that means. Who are they in a world where black is not just beautiful but is a source of power? A true identity in itself that made you feel so good. What does that mean?
Who are you in a world where your central source of identity and purpose can dilute itself into a memory within two generations?
These kids don’t even look black.
And it’s not just the deeds and actions of strangers around you that threatens this identity. It’s also academics. Your peers.
There’s an idea saturating the halls of your white walled towers that challenges the very idea of identity itself. That it might be made up in the first place for the purpose of powerful castes of people to control you. To oppress you. That not only individual or group identity is made up, but grand narratives as a whole are created solely for power seeking.What does that mean for you now? What will happen if we continue to pull on that strand from within the central tenets of your identity? Will it all unravel? You think it just might. And nobody seems to care. They are often even enthusiastic about pointing it out.
You need to fix this.
Your identity is real. They cannot take that away from you. It is just as real today as it was when that very same identity was your badge of honor. A badge you used to create real positive change that affected a whole nation. Just as real as when it was used against you to cause pain…that’s it! It must be real!
Pain is the one thing that can’t be argued away. And if you felt pain as a consequence of this identity, then that means the identity itself is real.
Jack pot!
That will stop the so called “deconstructionist philosophers” in their tracks. Now it’s time for you to fortify that identity and that pain. The pain will be the brick and mortar of your survival.
For you to be black, someone must be white. So let’s remind them of just that. And that they cause pain. A pain that creates a class structure with you below, and them above. Yes. That makes sense. Their “whiteness” is a type of advantage. A privilege.
Like the property of capitalism, you will seek to abolish whiteness just as you sought to abolish private property.
Curiously enough, many of them embrace it. It’s as if some white people wanted to hear, “You are white. You cannot escape being white just like I cannot escape being black. Your whiteness puts you in a class above me.”
“Ok, I like the sound of that.”, they say.
They accept it. You accept it. You are black. They are white. That is that.
You have your identity back.
“This process of recognizing as social and systemic what was formerly perceived as isolated and individual has also characterized the identity politics of African-Americans, other people of color, and gays and lesbians, among others. For all these groups, identity-based politics has been a source of strength, community, and intellectual development.” (emphasis mine) — Kimberlé Crenshaw, Mapping the Margins