‘I don’t even noticed that your black’…these words were spoken to me by my partner early on in our relationship as we pondered which of our many differences made the most impact on our day to day lives. Hearing this, I was instantly drawn into my 16 year old world in which a friend had just uttered the same…this phrase would then go on to become painfully familiar to me throughout the next 16 or so years in between.
I understand the intention of their statements, likely an attempt to underscore the lack of vision regarding the color of my skin. They were trying to tell me that my brown hued exterior made no difference in how they saw me as person, partner, or friend; unfortunately, such conversation did nothing more than work to erase me, as I was. I imagine that others share this experience with me, on one side or the other. It’s an odd and awkward place to be on the receiving end and up until recently, I never really knew how to respond.
When identifying my racial or ethnic background, it is important for me to identify and/or label myself as being Black. I do this because my experience as a black woman fully informs every single aspect of my life. Labels, while sometimes limiting, also serve to create a lens through which others see and hear us.
When posed with the consideration of when and why to speak up about race, this is what I have to say: to be blind is not helpful. I need you to see me. While you may not understand what you see and while you may even be uncomfortable, I still need you to look and then I need you to see. In the dictionary, there are several definitions of the word blind, yet there is one in particular that stood out to me and that is the ‘lacking of all consciousness or awareness’. My challenge to you today is this, while you are conscious; make the choice to be aware. Don’t erase me for your comfort, or think you are doing so for mine.
To be mute is also not helpful. I need you to speak up and speak out. The word mute refers to a speech disorder in which a person lacks the ability to speak; thus rendering said person incapable of doing so. For me this implies a desire, yet inability to speak. So I ask-when you see injustice and inequality are you quiet due to the inability to speak? Do you not know what to say? Or do you remain quiet simply because you can?
I believe it is often the privilege of the majority that leads one to silence. When clothed in privilege, it doesn’t appear that you have anything to loose, particularly when silence provides the illusion of comfort and protection. However, I argue, in the words of the late, great poet Audre Lorde “your silence will not protect you”
So what are we to do? In this post modern melting pot of a society, we are encouraged to assimilate and become one. We have yet to discover the beauty of unity within difference. We don’t know how to comfortably acknowledge ‘when one of these things does not look like the other’ and we are taught to search for our similarities and push away that which may remind us all of our individual and unique make up. We blend and perfect fitting in. I know I did this and often still do when it comes to my speech. I’m very aware of my words and how they sound…I know the difference between sounding proper and the free use of Ebonics. When I was a child, I used ‘fix’ my lips in an attempt to make them smaller. It was as if I was a partner in the design of becoming colorless…invisible. In reality, it was me making myself –and others comfortable through the disappearance of my true self. Activist and author Lani Ka’ahumanu concludes that ‘assimilation is a lie; it is spiritual erasure”.
Approximately a week after my partner so lovingly informed me that she didn’t noticed the brownness of me; she brought up the conversation and apologized for her words. She shared that after a few days of contemplation, she realized that by saying what she said, she was taking away who I am. She acknowledged the value of seeing my color.
Speaking up about race can occur in many different forms. It’s acknowledging the surface characteristics of another’s skin, its taking pleasure in a different dialect or language, it standing up against a slur and injustice…it is drinking in the sweetness of culture that stitches us all together.
It is okay to see. It is okay to speak. We do this now and we do this tomorrow, because we all deserve and desire to be seen.
*Presented 11/14/10 @ First Unitarian Universalist Church-Columbus, Ohio*
I understand the intention of their statements, likely an attempt to underscore the lack of vision regarding the color of my skin. They were trying to tell me that my brown hued exterior made no difference in how they saw me as person, partner, or friend; unfortunately, such conversation did nothing more than work to erase me, as I was. I imagine that others share this experience with me, on one side or the other. It’s an odd and awkward place to be on the receiving end and up until recently, I never really knew how to respond.
When identifying my racial or ethnic background, it is important for me to identify and/or label myself as being Black. I do this because my experience as a black woman fully informs every single aspect of my life. Labels, while sometimes limiting, also serve to create a lens through which others see and hear us.
When posed with the consideration of when and why to speak up about race, this is what I have to say: to be blind is not helpful. I need you to see me. While you may not understand what you see and while you may even be uncomfortable, I still need you to look and then I need you to see. In the dictionary, there are several definitions of the word blind, yet there is one in particular that stood out to me and that is the ‘lacking of all consciousness or awareness’. My challenge to you today is this, while you are conscious; make the choice to be aware. Don’t erase me for your comfort, or think you are doing so for mine.
To be mute is also not helpful. I need you to speak up and speak out. The word mute refers to a speech disorder in which a person lacks the ability to speak; thus rendering said person incapable of doing so. For me this implies a desire, yet inability to speak. So I ask-when you see injustice and inequality are you quiet due to the inability to speak? Do you not know what to say? Or do you remain quiet simply because you can?
I believe it is often the privilege of the majority that leads one to silence. When clothed in privilege, it doesn’t appear that you have anything to loose, particularly when silence provides the illusion of comfort and protection. However, I argue, in the words of the late, great poet Audre Lorde “your silence will not protect you”
So what are we to do? In this post modern melting pot of a society, we are encouraged to assimilate and become one. We have yet to discover the beauty of unity within difference. We don’t know how to comfortably acknowledge ‘when one of these things does not look like the other’ and we are taught to search for our similarities and push away that which may remind us all of our individual and unique make up. We blend and perfect fitting in. I know I did this and often still do when it comes to my speech. I’m very aware of my words and how they sound…I know the difference between sounding proper and the free use of Ebonics. When I was a child, I used ‘fix’ my lips in an attempt to make them smaller. It was as if I was a partner in the design of becoming colorless…invisible. In reality, it was me making myself –and others comfortable through the disappearance of my true self. Activist and author Lani Ka’ahumanu concludes that ‘assimilation is a lie; it is spiritual erasure”.
Approximately a week after my partner so lovingly informed me that she didn’t noticed the brownness of me; she brought up the conversation and apologized for her words. She shared that after a few days of contemplation, she realized that by saying what she said, she was taking away who I am. She acknowledged the value of seeing my color.
Speaking up about race can occur in many different forms. It’s acknowledging the surface characteristics of another’s skin, its taking pleasure in a different dialect or language, it standing up against a slur and injustice…it is drinking in the sweetness of culture that stitches us all together.
It is okay to see. It is okay to speak. We do this now and we do this tomorrow, because we all deserve and desire to be seen.
*Presented 11/14/10 @ First Unitarian Universalist Church-Columbus, Ohio*
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