I am a proud black woman! I have always been and will always
be proud of my ethnicity, culture, community, complexions, hairstyles, language,
shapes, communication, family, traditions, humor, and so much more. I am proud and
appreciative of the foundation that has been laid for me. I am proud to have so
many opportunities to be whatever I want to be and do whatever I want to do
thanks to my parents and the many others who sacrificed for me so that I could.
What’s so complicated about that? I have had the privilege
to experience life before any of the convenient technology that we consider to
be necessities today. I enjoyed playing games outside with my neighbors without
my parents having to worry about me. I remember being imaginative and creative.
Yet, somehow I too have become dependent on the very technology that I shake my
head at. I too have been entertained by the media that has the potential to
negate that very pride. Why? Because, this very same technology has shone a devastating
light on the black community.
My pride for blackness is frustrated and challenged
every time a Sweet Brown is interviewed by a reporter in the field. Every time a new meme is created on “black twitter” and Instagram. Every time there is a
fight or petty argument on somebody’s Housewives, Love & Hip Hop Wherever, Bad
Girls, or any other reality show with an all-black cast. Every time there is a cell
phone video of a fight at a fast food restaurant or someone stealing hair
weaves from a store. Every time there’s a video of disrespectful students in a classroom.
Every time a young rapper who dropped out of high school announces it and is
barely able to put an intelligible sentence of five words together during an
interview. The list goes on and on.
Okay, but what does that have to do with MY pride? While these
examples have nothing to do with me directly, the residue of them affects me
daily. I have heard on many panel discussions that we are not a monolith, and I
agree. Yet, it seems that due to our negative portrayal in the media we tend to
be placed in a bubble and secretly expected to behave as such. So much so that
it astonishes those who observe otherwise. For example, during my last year of
teaching high school English, one of my seniors complimented me (or what he thought
was a compliment) by saying that I spoke very well and he liked the way that I
spoke. I said “Thank you” politely, but could not help but wonder if he only
made that comment because I am a black woman teaching mainly Hispanic students
who have had maybe only two other black teachers during his high school career.
I wondered if he observed the speech patterns and vocabulary of his “other”
teachers as well. Could this be because of our portrayal, or is it just his
lack of exposure?
On another occasion many years earlier, I had gone out to
eat with a colleague who was white and much older than me. In so many words, she
expressed that she cared deeply for me and said that she wished that I started a
family because she has observed so many women in education who would make
excellent parents. She said that more people like me needed to have children.
What I understood her to say indirectly was that because I was educated and my
boyfriend had a secure job as a fire fighter, we should procreate to counteract
some of the elements in the community that we were teaching in. I came to this
conclusion because all of the examples of women that she wished had children,
but were past child bearing age, were black women who we’d worked with.
My point is, while I
am proud of my blackness and everything that it represents, I am not proud of
the images that the world sees of us. As it has been for what seems like
forever, the good news and representatives of positive models of blackness are
not as esteemed and advertised, or their light is dimmed by the foolishness
that continues at a steady stream. It’s complicated because I will not try to
explain or justify the behaviors of those who revel in the fame of mediocrity
and embarrassment just for their 15 minutes and temporary wealth, yet I am
consumed by it. It’s complicated because my example of pride and self-respect
comes off as boring and weird and atypical. It’s complicated because even
though we are viewed as a monolith, I can’t have this conversation with many
people, including some of my loved ones and peers.
I’ve always admired my parents because they are educated,
well-spoken, and hard-working. They take pride in their home and their family.
When I first heard the hybrid word “boughetto” I would laugh on the inside thinking
that that was exactly what my family was. A healthy balance of bougie and
ghetto. Because of this, I can relate (not necessarily personally) to the
images in the media to some degree, but I just wish that these images were not
so consistently negative. I wish that people could separate fact from fiction
in a world where the news that was once more reliable and less biased took a
step away from entertainment, sensationalizing, and agenda pushing.
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