Blackness

Nas -- Queens Get The Money

As an undergraduate, I remember sitting in one of my Afro-American studies courses when my professor posed this very potent question to his students:

"What does it mean to be Black?"

Saying no more, he surveyed the room and took mental note of the glances that we passed to one another. We were certain that Blackness was undoubtedly hinged upon society's reaction to the amount of melanin in one's skin. For our entire lives we accepted the label of being Black, accepted whatever implications came along with being Black, and unassumedly adopted the stereotypes and speculations associated with being Black. But was that the extent of it? Skin and stereotypes? Did it have its own culture? Do its members share a universal history of maltreatment? We individually wrestled with this question until someone was brave enough to offer their opinion:

"It's an issue of skin color."

Of course, the professor probed the student to go deeper.

"It's an issue of skin color that correlates with the culture, history, and treatment of African-American people."

"Just African-American people?"

"Well, no. It affects anyone who can visibly be identified as having dark skin, coarse hair and African features. Dark skin is a typically undesirable trait, no matter what race you claim."

We managed to turn that one question into an intimate seminar that lasted for three weeks. It wasn't on the syllabus. We were broadsided with having to confront the reasons why we so readily assumed that we were Black without having a firm understanding of what being Black encompassed. We had to come up with solid answers as to why we believed that it was solely our skin color that warranted injustice and prejudice. We had to address how we can substantiate faulty generalizations regarding the color of one's skin. He even tested us on it!

The questions worked. Our minds got to thinking. We wanted to discover if degrees of Blackness existed and the extent to which we could lay claim to being a part of the Black Experience. The discussions were so fulfilling that a fellow classmate took it upon herself to research her family's history. To say that she was proud of being Black (as she knew it) is an understatement. Having a relatively superficial knowledge of her familial background, it took her months before she ultimately discovered that no member of her family experienced American enslavement; she was actually the descendant of Black Spaniards that willfully immigrated to the US at the turn of the century. She know had to learn how to address issues of injustice on the planes of being Black AND Latina. The questions made me think of one of my girlfriends. She is Black by American standards, so is her family. She grew up in a predominately Black neighborhood. However, she does not identify with being Black. She is fluent in Spanish and listens to mostly Spanish music. She holds degrees in Spanish and Latin American studies. Under her own admission, she's Latina. Oddly enough, I do not feel that she is suffering from an identity crisis. I simply feel that she has chosen to relate to her Blackness on a more universal level; as opposed to conforming to the supposition of what it means to be African-American, she chooses to view herself as being a Black Latina. If placed in a Spanish-speaking country, she'd have no trouble being identified as such due to her infatuation with and immersion in Latin culture. The course also made me take into consideration members of my own family. I identify with being a Black American. But, my maternal and paternal bloodlines are like night and day -- literally. My mother is the descendant of extremely fair skinned Black French Creoles. If they chose (which they didn't!), they could have easily passed for being White. On the other hand, my father's family is extremely dark skinned. My brother and I are obvious products of their union as we are one of the few cocoa-colored members of our families. We have cousins that are technically polar opposites of one another with skin tones ranging from milk white to deep chocolate. And yet in still, we are all Black. To varying degrees, we are all subject to the nuisance of its stigma. Both sides are plagued with their own set of stereotypes relative to their Black ancestry. One member may battle accusations of being uppity, sadity and bourgeosie out of simply being a fair-skinned Black while another may struggle with accusations of being violent, shifty and dangerous due to the deep hue of his dark skin.

My professor would be pleased. Years after taking the course my mind is still questioning. Is our blackness linked to skin color or familial nationality? If it is not skin color, does that mean that Whites can be Black if they relate to pro-Black sentiment? If it is a question of family origin, is one's Blackness limited to those who have traceable roots to Africa? If this were the case, everyone could be considered Black as Africa is strongly believed to be the cradle of civilization. If African roots were all that it took to label you as a Black person, what becomes of the American born children of Egyptians and Moroccans who most resemble those of Middle Eastern descent? Is it truly just an issue of skin color?

The resolution that I took away from this course is that Blackness is a relatively social construct employed by individuals who feel the need to implement a way of maintaining an order of superiority. Blackness on the individual level can be something that one defines on his own terms. It is common knowledge that society has developed its own system of who falls in the category of being Black, but the system is broken and malfunctioning. Blackness is a theory that is so vast and incomprehensible that creating truthful generalizations is nearly impossible. Blackness is a concept that defines countless cultures and histories. And they are all truly beautiful.

... PEACE