" The joys of being a black woman in the US are built on the collective cultural experiences we share…"
I wrote this piece for a South African blogger who was doing a series on the experiences of black women in the states. I felt that for black history month/year that this would be a timely post. So I hope you can relate and enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it.
The experience of being a black woman in America is very different for all black women. We have our shared macrocosm of issues like racism, sexism, colorism, but at a micro-level it varies significantly.
The joys of being a black woman in the US are built on the collective cultural experiences we share, the empathy we can extend to one another, and where we find ourselves over and over in each other’s stories. The joint experiences of family cook-outs or reunions, moments with Big Ma (the eldest family matriarch), or being forced to wear your hair in ball balls (colorful barrettes that bounce and make noise when you walk) to school and getting popped when you lose one on the playground, or being told to “sit down somewhere” when your energy has exceeded the limitations of your mother’s nerves.
It is difficult to solely explore my blackness without juxtaposing it against my relationship to whiteness, as it is a social construct and not a genetic or character trait. So, I will highlight the spaces in which my blackness has underscored my experiences as an American.
In the academic space, my experiences as a black woman has varied based on the school’s I have attended. In grade school, my education began in a majority white Christian private school. I had a core group of about five black girlfriends that we would celebrate birthdays and have slumber parties together. This allowed for a diverse early educational experience in a space that wasn’t necessarily catering to black students. However, I still battled with identity issues relating to race because even at four or five, I desired the freedom in white girl hair and the privilege of white girl skin. I wished my skin was lighter, I begged for a relaxer at four (although it didn’t take much convincing), so I could have long straight hair. In Pre-K, I wanted to change my name from Breanna to something like Brittany or Sarah, raise the pitch in my voice, to sound lighter and delicate and less brash or abrasive. At the age of five I knew there was a difference.
” My early experiences of racial prejudices have been through micro-aggressions…“
I remember one time playing on the playground, I was freely spinning around in a circle with my arms propelled like a helicopter. The feeling of dizziness was arousing to me at the time. Apparently, this white girl walks too close to my flailing hands and they accidentally smack her in the face. She starts crying and told the teacher. I apologized to her and explained that it was an accident, but I still had to sit in time out, for playing! I couldn’t confirm that her punitive measures were racially motivated, but I could identify that they were unreasonable. Also in kindergarten, while at the lunch table, I remember this white girl named Jessica, who called my picture day hair ugly, and argued that her dad makes more money than my mom. I knew she meant because she was a black woman. I eventually would claw her in the chest for getting too close to my face. Once in summer camp, I was called “black” as an insult, as if I were being called “stupid.”
Over time, I began to resent being black, because I just didn’t really see the benefits and my mom unenrolled me from that school. She re-enrolled me into a school with a more diverse student population, as well as staff. She wanted me to see that black people were beautiful, intelligent and came in all forms. As the representations I saw changed, so did my perspective on myself. I eventually loved being black and had a lower tolerance for whiteness as a construct, not the skin tone.
My early experiences of racial prejudices have been through micro-aggressions directed toward me in an extracurricular space and were indirect by being singled out as “other” or “different from the others”. For example, when I was about nine or ten in my ballet class, a white girl told me my hair was pretty, and that it didn’t look like, “well, you know” (which is code for other types of black girl’s hair she has seen). I just looked at her and rolled my eyes. Another time, I was visiting my grandmother’s house and was playing outside with her neighbor’s granddaughters. A car drove by playing loud rap music and black individuals were in the car. As she observes them, she says, “That’s why I just can’t stand black people”, but looks at me and says, “But not you though, you’re different”. I was very shocked and uncomfortable because I hadn’t experienced such a blatant form of racism before. I smiled awkwardly and ran into the house to tell my grandmother what had happened. I never played with her again. But, I was now consciously aware that that was how white people saw me and treated me even into adulthood. In highschool and college, I was always one of the few black students in my classes, as well as in part- time work positions.
In the career space, I have worked in both predominantly white and black environments. The jury is still out on which I prefer. I know first hand that true diversity is necessary in any highly functioning working environment. I’ve been a victim of white girl tears and lies in majority white companies, and I have been disrespected and threatened in majority black working environments. That’s not to say this can’t happen in any cultural group setting however, I am all too familiar with the cultural norms of these two specific groups and diversity has been seemingly more effective and a more even playing field as it relates to varying perspectives. It’s an environment where all can learn from one another.
“My black experience is a tapestry not a monolith”
In my personal life, my blackness is not the epicenter of my existence, I get to just be. My husband is black and my friends are multiracial. We openly discuss race in an intellectual and respectful way, which is cathartic.
I am thankful and fortunate that I have never experienced any extreme forms of racial discrimination, that could harm me or jeopardize my future. However, that doesn’t mean I let my guard down enough to believe that it couldn’t happen to me or my loved ones. So, we are always vigilant about how we move in this world.
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