“You like Green Day don’t you? that’s weird! hahaha!” I remember standing there at 8 years old fighting back tears and defending myself “No I don’t! I’ve never even listened to them!”
That’s one of my earliest memories of feeling like something was wrong with me, that there was something wrong with the way I was. And subconsciously as I got older, I think small, but significant, instances like this jaded me. I started to feel like I couldn’t be my true, genuine self around black people. That I couldn’t have different interests or even like different music out of fear of not fitting in and being made fun of.
Growing up black in white suburbia is a unique experience. My mom believed that sending me through predominately white Catholic schools was the best decision for my educational and personal development. And it was, I am who I am today because of her decision and I’m grateful. But as we know, hindsight is very much 2020. I honestly believe my experience of being one of few black children in white spaces for all of my childhood and adolescence managed to give me self esteem issues but also a superiority complex. Its some really confusing shi*t, I know. Let me explain.
I alllllllmost want to say I grew up living a double life in a way. I would go to school and be one of a few black students in the entire building and then go to my babysitters house who watched only black kids and we would sing our hearts out to Foolish by Ashanti and watch Love & Basketball. But as I started to get older I could tell things started to get a little different with my friends from daycare. They’d make comments I didn’t really catch on to about how I talked, or the things I was interested in. And I never really paid attention to how much it effected me but I think it started to make me feel like I had to prove myself. So I would lie about my interests or things I was doing so that I didn’t seem too “white”.
On the other hand being around my white friends in and out of school was a complete opposite experience…up until a point (more on that later). But mostly I never felt like I had to prove myself to fit in. I felt most like “one of them” around white people even being the only black friend. We would listen to our favorite alternative rock bands and I was definitely attempting to scrunch my black ass 4B ass hair. My mom of course had the whole “your white friends can do sh*t you can’t do” talk with me, so that always kept me hyper aware of my blackness when my friends would be attempting to steal from department stores. That and when we would be reading books as a class that had the N word in them and the tension in the room would be so thick my body would get hot.
Eventually between being the only black friend and the negative, ignorant things I would hear and see portrayed in the media and otherwise (see: Tyler Perry movies) I started to develop an aversion to my blackness. I didn’t necessarily hate being black, but I DEFINITELY didn’t not want to be seen as one of *those* black people. I wanted to always have every one of my (heat damaged from getting it straightened every 2 weeks) hair’s in place. I never had a realization that I wanted to be like my white friends but I did know that I never wanted to be seen as *too* black by them. I went so long assimilating and protecting my proximity to whiteness even at the expense of racist jokes and disgusting comments I’d rather forget. The worst is probably when I wanted my friends to know so badly that I had (super extremely distant) white ancestry I dug up my moms family tree records in 7th grade. I dug up my damn family tree!!!!!! Insane! But the accumulation of all of these things are what I mean by I managed to have severe self esteem issues surrounding my blackness but also managed to feel elitist when it came to other black people who went to certain schools, lived in certain neighborhoods, etc. I subconsciously prioritized my proximity to whiteness over “fitting in” or relating to other black people. I remember even feeling weird during big family gatherings. I assumed people met me and heard how I talked and immediately probably thought I was a certain way. Which is partly true because of all the “you talk white” and “you’re and Oreo” comments I’d heard my entire life (which would irritate the hell out of me, but I also took as a compliment, again, confusing, I know) But I was also projecting my insecurities hard AF.
Once high school started I started to develop a different set of insecurities, yay me! When all of my friends in middle school were getting their first little boyfriends was I a little pressed? Sure. But I knew none of the white boys I had crushes on would ever think twice about dating me. So when I got to high school and there was a slightly higher (heavy on the slight) percentage of black students I was like oh cool, maybe I’ll actually have a shot of finding myself a little boo or whatever. Except no, I was privileged to be seen as undesirable by both the black and white boys at my school!!!! But seriously, I feel like this is something that is rarely talked about but many young black women growing up in predominately white areas experience. Its like the white guys damn sure don’t want us and we have to WAIT for the black guys to go through phases until they *maybe* do.
Feeling undesired and unprotected from the black men I grew up around is a trauma that has run deep for me for many years. I won’t say it’s the sole reason I was convinced I was unattractive for all of my years of high school but it was definitely a major, painful factor.
In the midst of dealing with my own issues surrounding my identity and blackness I still managed to hang on to a considerable amount of ignorances that stuck with me since grade school. I look back and know how ignorant my thought processes were but I give myself grace because I know my younger self was just trying to make it in my environment with an ounce of my peace in tact.
I remember when it came time for me to find roommates to live with in college I made it a point to find girls who weren’t black. I told myself it was because I wanted to be “diverse” but my decision was absolutely rooted in anti blackness. Subconsciously thinking that if I roomed with black girls they might be “ghetto” or not like me because I acted too “white”. I was convinced by this point that I just got along better with people who weren’t black because I didn’t have to worry about them maybe thinking I was putting on or pretending.
Once I got to college everything changed. I was so fortunate to immediately meet a group of girlfriends who grew up similarly to me with similar experiences. I was able to find immense comfort in sharing our stories and having extensive, eye-opening conversation surrounding our experiences as black women. In short, that’s when I finally came to my damn senses.
For the most part my struggles with identity and finding myself as a young black girl were an internal struggle. Not something I ever talked about but instead silently dealt with until I was forced to either confront or ignore something that was happening in my outward reality. I used to think my ability to navigate both spaces by being the black girl who wasn’t *too* black gave me some sort of competitive edge. But there is no such thing as “too black” and there ought not to be any rewards for being able to assimilate to whiteness. Although that societal structure does very much still exist.
As a now young black woman, all black spaces are my greatest source of comfort. It’s like that silent head nod or wave you give to another black person you see in the grocery store or when you enter a new classroom and the first thing you do is scan the room for any faces that may look like yours. Except instead of it being one or two (if you’re lucky), it’s everyone. And it feels like home.
As black people we go through many experiences that are fundamentally the same. And many that are different depending on a number of variables. I know that every black person reading this may not be able to relate to how I grew up or any of the struggles I dealt with surrounding my blackness. After all, the journey to loving and finding yourself looks different for everyone. But l wish for everyone to find someone, a group of people maybe, to help them get there. I’m so grateful I did and not ashamed to say I once struggled. There is immense value in black community. For centuries all we have had is each other. Our own protectors and providers.
My blackness is my greatest and most powerful gift.
Xo,
Girl About Town.