|
Black Is
"I finally began to understand that having any black in you, you embody the black experience..."
By Karissa Harden
Listen
to this Commentary!
Youth Radio's Karissa Harden is biracial. She's used to others making judgments about her identity and questioning her familiarity with the black experience. From Paris to the deep South, Karissa looks at black cultures and decides there is a range of experience, validating her own in the process. (January 5 on NPR's News and Notes)
All my life, I've looked inward and asked myself "How far does my black
experience go?" This question was sparked again recently in my sociology
class. Black students in the class began to share the standards and rules
they apply to the infamous n-word, and black life.
One lady pointed to me and said, "If she said it to me, I wouldn't be
cool with it." She was implying because I'm biracial, I'm not familiar
enough with the black experience to use black codes of speech and
interaction.
I was caught a little bit off guard. As usual whenever my
biracial identity is spotlighted, I felt really awkward. But, after that uncomfortable moment, I started to really think about whether
there was any truth to her statement.
I haven't experienced some things that
many people consider monumental in the black experience.
I don't want to put black people in a box, or label these experiences as
exclusively black. But growing up with a single white mom, I missed out on a
lot of family barbecues in the park and jam sessions to old school music
that takes you to a more wholesome time in black life.
I didn't grow up
surrounded by cousins and family friends who lived in my neighborhood, and I
didn't spend every Sunday at church enduring long sermons about Christ and
his glorious promise. And sometimes, that makes me feel like my black
experience is limited.
However, that doesn't mean I'm not connected to the black part of me. I've
taken adventurous trips to the deep South to visit distant relatives, and
felt the inexplicable pain and rage in my heart when I see pictures of
horrific lynching scenes. I've looked in the mirror and smiled with
satisfaction at my brown skin and broad nose.
One of my simplest pleasures
is running my fingers through the coils of my thick mass of hair and
inhaling the lingering scents of Pink brand lotion. In my old neighborhood,
I had inspiring conversations with the legendary and harmless wino who
roamed the block. I've endured the anguish of being a daughter to an
unaccountable black father, and attended family reunions
with my kooky but precious family relatives.
Not to mention, there are a lot of things I've been through that are
distinctly a part of the biracial experience. I've been through the
insulting process of having to choose either African American or Caucasian
on censuses and standardized tests.
I've felt like I was surrounded by white
peers who would never understand me as a black person, and by black peers
who would never understand me because I wasn't enough like them. And plenty
of white teachers met my mom with surprised and perplexed looks on their
faces at parent-teacher conferences.
Reflecting on all of this, I finally began to understand that having any
black in you, you embody the black experience. Whether you bump that Lil' Wayne
record and wear your white tee or paint your nails black and listen to death
metal... Whether you believe that black people are the original people of
planet Earth or you doesn't care about all that
afro-centricity... Whether you're a black Latino who speaks Spanish or a
black Parisian living in the Le Marais, everything you have experienced has
been in your black body.
It's easy to get lost in the media-induced homogenization of culture. Even
though we all enable that process at times, it's important to allow
yourself to develop your own definitions.
|
|
