Let me start by saying that if you are expecting me to provide anything resembling an authoritative answer to that question, you have definitely come to the wrong place. But I am going to talk about it, maybe talk around it, and just share some of what I think.
My friend Chuck wrote about this topic just recently, responding to someone’s comment, “He doesn’t look Black. He looks mixed race.” This oft-heard comment, as well as Chuck’s own reflections, compelled me to do a little “thinking out loud”, which is what this is.
I have been black all my life (yup, right from birth), and yet after 63 years I am no closer to having a workable, defensible definition of what it is to be black.
Skin tone? Don’t get me started.
I am very light-skinned. Black folks come in nearly every possible shade, from peach-skinned with bright orange freckles, bright green eyes and red hair, to skin so dark you can see purple. I happen to be near the end of the light spectrum for black people. If you did not know me, you might assume that I was a Caucasian of Mediterranean descent. My family is West Indian and come from the U.S. and British Virgin Islands, places where the influences and roots are extraordinarily rich and diverse. That diversity is reflected in the broad range of skin tones represented by my family. (My family is a whole range of the Pantone book) Many people assume that I am bi-racial or perhaps a quadroon. I am neither. I am black. Both of my parents are black. All four of my grandparents are black. All eight of my great-grandparents were black. Beyond that I can make no assurances.
Skin tone might be a hot topic for some, but Black ain’t got nothing to do with skin tone. (And would someone please explain to me why so many White people just LOVE to put on blackface? Really. What is that about?)
Genetics? That doesn’t work either.
There is no such thing as a Black gene. In fact, there is no scientific basis for race. Race is a social and cultural construct. Ancestry.com can tell you where you are from, but it can’t tell you if you are Black. And even if it could, good luck finding anyone who is not a combination of multiple family influences and roots. No one in America is just one thing. No one.
And I believe that you can be bi-racial and be Black. Barack Obama is bi-racial, and he’s Black. I think he is. I think that he thinks that he is.
So culture then. Blackness is a cultural construct. Well, yes and no.
Yes, so much of what Blackness represents is cultural, but it doesn’t all fit neatly into the box. After all, just try describing or defining Black culture. It would be the longest Wikipedia page on earth. And because Black culture is so rich and so diverse and so comprehensive and expansive, it touches and influences and ultimately describes a whole lot of non-black people too. There’s a lot of White folks who are genuinely down with the culture, and some who are just trying really, really hard. And there are also a bunch of Black folks who seem to have forgotten that they’re Black. (I know you’ve met some.)
Life experience. Could this be the secret answer?
I think life experience gets me the closest to an answer, mainly because I know that I have often said that I have “lived my whole life as a Black person”, which means SOMETHING, even if I don’t really know what that something is. I absolutely believe there is something called “The Black Experience” that is arguably unique to Black people. But the Black experience that I lived is not the same one that my friend Chuck lived. It’s not even the same experience that my own two brothers lived. So Blackness and the Black experience are not monolithic.
I believe that the Black experience has something to do with how you interact with the rest of the world based on the social rules and constructs of race. It’s about experiences of solidarity and connection with some people and alienation, disconnection and other-ness with other people. It’s about navigating the world based on a certain kind of tribalism.
Living a life that is an authentic Black experience (aw hell, don’t ask me to define “authentic”) does the best job – I think – of getting past the Rachel Dolizals of this world.
I don’t think this is fully or cleanly the answer, but it’s the best I can do.
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