Blogging Against Racism Week
Aug. 10th, 2007 08:05 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
novapsycheI've seen several of my friends post along BARW lines this week, and I've been meaning to make at least one post, but I've been busy and tired and it's been one of those things I keep putting off. Not that I don't think it's important, but largely because I post about race a lot anyway.
Ever since I was little, I've taken a bit of pride (cardinal sin as it is) that I've been historically the black chick who explodes racial stereotypes. I was on college track scholastically since I was in second grade. I attended a majority-white school system and, from my pre-teen years until college, attended a majority-white church (Free Methodist). I went to Grinnell College, a very small, elite private college that was very white, despite being devoted to a philosophy of multiculturalism. I've subscribed to mainstream American (read: middle-class) values for as long as I can remember. I was usually the only black student in my classroom in elementary and secondary school, and I was the only black female who was in the smart (read: nerd) clique.
Of course, I deal with my own racism, which paradoxically is against those of my own race. When I was 17, I'd had a string of bad romantic relationships, all with those who were black or mixed, and so I made the conscious decision to date exclusive outside my race. And, so far, I've kept to that. On the whole, I've been happy with this decision, although I've had two quite disastrous relationships since then, so I know that dating outside of my race hasn't changed much in terms of my success in dating. However, I have felt more comfortable, especially in terms of finding people who also hold mainstream American values. It's far easier to find a middle-class white male than a middle-class black male, at least in the Midwest. Sad, but very true. (I think this would be far different if I lived on either seaboard.)
When I was growing up, I had family members accuse me of "acting white" because I liked school and read a lot. I basically shrugged this off (although I still have painful memories of one cousin [who's since passed] who called me "yellow" because of my lighter skin tone). I'm glad I liked school as much as I did--that enabled me to go to Grinnell, which has indelibly shaped my life.
I don't self-identify as black, unless I have to (like on government forms). I try to just be me. It bothers me when I meet new people and they go out of their way to name famous black people when engaged in conversation; this really doesn't make me feel comfortable, and in fact has the effect of making me hyperaware of the race that society has placed upon me. For example, I was hanging out with the Stilyagi crew a few weeks ago, and I mentioned Wimbledon and if anyone had seen the finals. I was actually talking about the men's final, which had been an epic game, but the folks I talked to brought up the Williams sisters--as though I obviously meant to refer to them. Here at work, I was talking to a few colleagues about movies and celebrities, and one of them made an effort to mention how someone was a dead ringer for Lawrence Fishburne. I'm waiting for someone to drop Sidney Poitier in conversation; that'll seal the deal for me.
So, yes, I struggle with my own ideas of race, despite having to deal with the lived experience of being a black woman. I still have to consciously put myself in the shoes of Hispanics, even though our races/ethnicities both live in racist America and we have more in common, I'm sure, than we have in differences. I try to imagine what it is to be Asian-American and have to deal with positive stereotypes, and what one would need to do to explode those, whether one would want to. I try to think about Native Americans and their unique relationship to mainstream culture, their particular struggles; I think about how the government has a vested interest in classifying very few people as Native American so as to keep them from getting government funds, and how the government has had a vested interest in classifying those of my own race as such so as to keep them from access to jobs and housing (indirect governmental/societal funds & goods). I think about those of my governmentally classified race who can pass, and what types of issues with race they have to struggle with and against. It's a terrible soup that we all have to muddle through.
Ever since I was little, I've taken a bit of pride (cardinal sin as it is) that I've been historically the black chick who explodes racial stereotypes. I was on college track scholastically since I was in second grade. I attended a majority-white school system and, from my pre-teen years until college, attended a majority-white church (Free Methodist). I went to Grinnell College, a very small, elite private college that was very white, despite being devoted to a philosophy of multiculturalism. I've subscribed to mainstream American (read: middle-class) values for as long as I can remember. I was usually the only black student in my classroom in elementary and secondary school, and I was the only black female who was in the smart (read: nerd) clique.
Of course, I deal with my own racism, which paradoxically is against those of my own race. When I was 17, I'd had a string of bad romantic relationships, all with those who were black or mixed, and so I made the conscious decision to date exclusive outside my race. And, so far, I've kept to that. On the whole, I've been happy with this decision, although I've had two quite disastrous relationships since then, so I know that dating outside of my race hasn't changed much in terms of my success in dating. However, I have felt more comfortable, especially in terms of finding people who also hold mainstream American values. It's far easier to find a middle-class white male than a middle-class black male, at least in the Midwest. Sad, but very true. (I think this would be far different if I lived on either seaboard.)
When I was growing up, I had family members accuse me of "acting white" because I liked school and read a lot. I basically shrugged this off (although I still have painful memories of one cousin [who's since passed] who called me "yellow" because of my lighter skin tone). I'm glad I liked school as much as I did--that enabled me to go to Grinnell, which has indelibly shaped my life.
I don't self-identify as black, unless I have to (like on government forms). I try to just be me. It bothers me when I meet new people and they go out of their way to name famous black people when engaged in conversation; this really doesn't make me feel comfortable, and in fact has the effect of making me hyperaware of the race that society has placed upon me. For example, I was hanging out with the Stilyagi crew a few weeks ago, and I mentioned Wimbledon and if anyone had seen the finals. I was actually talking about the men's final, which had been an epic game, but the folks I talked to brought up the Williams sisters--as though I obviously meant to refer to them. Here at work, I was talking to a few colleagues about movies and celebrities, and one of them made an effort to mention how someone was a dead ringer for Lawrence Fishburne. I'm waiting for someone to drop Sidney Poitier in conversation; that'll seal the deal for me.
So, yes, I struggle with my own ideas of race, despite having to deal with the lived experience of being a black woman. I still have to consciously put myself in the shoes of Hispanics, even though our races/ethnicities both live in racist America and we have more in common, I'm sure, than we have in differences. I try to imagine what it is to be Asian-American and have to deal with positive stereotypes, and what one would need to do to explode those, whether one would want to. I try to think about Native Americans and their unique relationship to mainstream culture, their particular struggles; I think about how the government has a vested interest in classifying very few people as Native American so as to keep them from getting government funds, and how the government has had a vested interest in classifying those of my own race as such so as to keep them from access to jobs and housing (indirect governmental/societal funds & goods). I think about those of my governmentally classified race who can pass, and what types of issues with race they have to struggle with and against. It's a terrible soup that we all have to muddle through.