By Madison Garrett
“Whitest” Black Girl
Truthfully, I can’t recall the first time I was ever described as “white”. It’s a description I’ve grown accustomed to being labeled as overtime. Growing up in a predominantly Black neighborhood and attending a majority Black elementary and middle school in Brooklyn, New York, I was always made aware of my contrasting interests. My parents and grandparents never used slang around me and always corrected me when I spoke incorrectly, so to speak properly was indisputably required. Rap music was never largely played around my brother nor me, so I found joy in listening to Disney stars and Taylor Swift. Therefore for my childhood, I paid the price for my difference with exclusion. Years later, and I still find myself reaping the consequences of my differences. I am accustomed to the laughs & the scowled faces from my Black peers when I speak. I am used to being called “the whitest Black girl”, a title I’ve acquired from my Black peers. I’ve also grown familiar with exclusion from my Caucasian, Latino, and Asian counterparts. When I begin internships or other prestigious opportunities, I am used to the warlike stares, mainly from the other races. The thoughts of affirmative action and “she’s here for diversity”, telepathing from their mind to mine. Alone is how I find myself most times, persecuted for my objection to the Black stereotype. Thus, the alienation of the “white” Black child begins.
Are White & Intelligent Synonyms?
In the 1992 Spike Lee drama, Malcolm X, there is a notable scene where Malcolm is on the brink of an epiphany. In the scene, Malcolm reads the dictionary and finds disparities between the word “white” and the word “black”. “Innocent”, “pure”, “without evil-intent”, and “honest”, are the dictionary’s definition for white, while “foul”, “hostile”, “outrageously wicked”, and “dirty” are the dictionary’s definition for black. Although this is overlooked, the differing connotations between Black and white subliminally affect beliefs of who is superior/good and who is inferior/bad. Even today, in a society where we have the Oprah Winfreys and the Barack Obamas of our country, white is associated with smart. How have we allowed this mindset to prevail? In times of slavery, our ancestors desired to learn to read and write. It was a privilege to be literate and receive an education. Now, intelligence is dismissed as a “white” trait. We as Black people have terribly allowed the white media to brainwash us so deeply that we align ourselves with stupidity. For members of the Black community to label anyone who expands their minds as “white” dishearteningly promotes the notion that Black people are inferior and uneducated. The mentality of the Black community must change.
“Good Doggie”
As I grow, I still find myself struggling with my identity. Of course, this comes with the trials of teenagehood, yet I find myself wrestling with my Black identity. In September, I won an essay contest and one of the incentives was to speak to a police officer on Zoom. The conversation was simple and lasted an hour’s worth, however, at a point, comments the officer made stuck out to me. “You seem to have a good head on your shoulders, just don’t follow in the footsteps of those in your neighborhood. They have big dreams then end up working at McDonald’s or pregnant. But you seem like a good one.”, he casually advised. I know he probably meant well with his statement yet a racial undertone echoed in my head. Those who never got to fulfill their dreams, but are still good Black citizens, are they beneath me? Am I placed on a pedestal, seen higher than the peers of my race, simply because I have above average skills in speaking and writing? I know I am no better than my Black brothers and sisters. I know my life does not hold additional meaning because I am not a Black delinquent. I know that all Black Lives Matter regardless of criminal background or education. But is this fact accepted by others?
When I receive the compliment, “You speak so well” it equates to “good doggie” in my ears. The shocked faces when I speak bring great offense to me. Are they surprised my vocabulary isn’t filled with colloquialism, that I know how to fully pronounce my letters? It can’t possibly be a thought that Black people are so ignorant that when I speak feelings of astonishment are evoked. Thus, I begin to dwell. Am I the poster child for my Black peers? “You can be like this too if you put down the silly, explicit rap music and pick up a book!”. At this point, I find myself conflicted and even confused. I am proud to represent Blacks in a positive light, but to what extent will I allow myself to be patted on the head by the white man when he subconsciously emits superiority and shock to my intelligence?
Black
Often, other times I find myself trying to prove my Blackness. This is such a silly statement to write but one that is quite true. I am guilty of adhering to cliches to fit in. I’ve adapted rap music into playlists. I’ve improved my sneaker game (although my mother refuses for Jordans to enter my closet). I’ve even tried to include African American vernacular in my daily vocabulary when speaking to other teenagers (although the majority of the time I incorrectly use it or end up sounding like I am “trying too hard”). Funnily enough, after all my effort, my tactics don’t appeal to my Black peers nor does it make a difference to my Asian, Caucasian, or Latino peers. The whole concept of trying to act Black to be Black is absolutely foolish. The reality is that no matter how many of my Black friends ridicule me nor how many
others despise my intelligence, the deep melanin in my skin exists. My lengthy, straight hair, my private high school education, or my proper speech does not matter when I enter a store and the clerk follows me around. To dismiss me as an “Oreo” or “coconut”(brown on the outside, white on the inside-seriously, some people can be so creative) is incredibly ignorant when I live through the Black experience as much as the next Black kid hanging on the street corner. To be Black in America simply means to be born Black; to live out the universal Black experiences every Black person encounters, regardless of education, sexuality, or class.
The Children of Tomorrow
When I think of the Black children of the future, my heart begins to palpitate. What will we offer them? What foundation of education and intellect will we lay when members of their community tell them doing well is acting “white”? From hearing that statement, white supremacy begins to enter the thoughts of the young Black child’s forming mind. I believe President Barack Obama says it best in his 2004 Senate Campaign speech, “Children can’t achieve unless we raise their expectations and turn off the television sets and eradicate the slander that says a black youth with a book is acting white”. To better ourselves as a people, to build a brighter future for our Black children, and to raise a generation full of the next Martins, Malcolms, Mayas, and Tonis, we must first address the fixed mentality of inferiority that remains over one hundred and fifty years after slavery.
We are articulate. We are smart. We are gifted. We are Black children. We are absolutely proud to be Black.
