When I was 11, I noted one day after a cold, ugly winter that it was actually warm enough for me to wear shorts to school. I had only worn long pants all season and I had no trace of a tan, but the tint of my skin never crossed my mind. Minutes after I sat down in class, one girl, her complexion darker than mine, turned to me and said “Your legs are so white!”
Cue the mental record-scratch.
My legs were white? Impossible. My mother is Black. My father is Black. I am Black. End of story. But my poor, 11-year-old self was less than certain. It was the first time I asked myself why I wasn’t Black enough, but not the last.
I had always known that non-Black people didn’t think I was Black enough. I straighten my hair. I speak in a way that conforms to their perceptions of “educated.” I don’t have Lebron James’s phone number. So the idea that another Black person would diminish my Black identity seemed unthinkable. Apparently I wasn’t Black enough for anyone. …show more content…
Biology did not create my black identity. Society did. It was society that told me how to speak or how to look to be Black, regardless of my say in the
Cue the mental record-scratch.
My legs were white? Impossible. My mother is Black. My father is Black. I am Black. End of story. But my poor, 11-year-old self was less than certain. It was the first time I asked myself why I wasn’t Black enough, but not the last.
I had always known that non-Black people didn’t think I was Black enough. I straighten my hair. I speak in a way that conforms to their perceptions of “educated.” I don’t have Lebron James’s phone number. So the idea that another Black person would diminish my Black identity seemed unthinkable. Apparently I wasn’t Black enough for anyone. …show more content…
Biology did not create my black identity. Society did. It was society that told me how to speak or how to look to be Black, regardless of my say in the