I saw a watered down version of a Black man. And that made me sad. There he was, a brother of deep, dark sable who had no idea how powerful his black skin was. I watched him as he slowly scanned the room and conformed to what the white men around him did. When his eyes fell on one that had his shirt untucked, he slowly untucked his. When he saw one that sat differently, he concentrated and mocked until he had perfectly assumed his posture. He loosened his tie when he saw that the next one did. And when his neighbor took his off, my brother removed his altogether. In conversation, I heard that he copied and recycled all the phrases around him until he felt like his speech was just right.I watched him Google Fall Out Boy and Imagine Dragons and study just so he could join in on their conversation. (I mean, who the fuck has a pulse and doesn't know about Fall Out Boy?) He sounded amazed when they told him about the slightest things they had done. He played house nigga and shucked and jived to whatever beat they happened to be playing him at the moment.
What I saw made me sad, but the things I have heard from this man made me want to weep. I suppose the fact that my skin is only a few shades lighter than his is what caused him to want to confide in me a few days ago. It was a conversation that began innocently as he spoke to me about his ex-girlfriend. He began to tell me about the ups and downs they experienced and because the end of a relationship can take quite a toll on anyone's emotions, I spoke to him with kindness. As I was walking away, he said, "Crazy ass Puerto Ricans, I tell you". That statement puzzled me, so I doubled back to find out why he said it. When I asked him why he would refer to the mother of his son that way, he said "Because it's true". So, I asked if he felt that way about her before they dated, had problems, had a baby and split up. His response was, "Not about her specifically. But it seems like a lot of the Puerto Rican girls I date end up being crazy." I first began with discussing the fact that if he has dated "a lot" of women of any and all races, then he is probably doing something wrong. I asked how many Puerto Rican women he had dated ("Seriously, three. But I messed around with a few back in the day"). I asked him whether or not he dated any other races. He responded, "Yeah. I've dated White girls, two Mexicans, an Indian girl and one chick that was from Hawaii." I looked at him for a while. "Well, what about us? Have you ever dated a Black girl?" You would think I had punched him in the chest as I asked that question. "I-I-I did back when I was in elementary and middle school. But not since then." My eyes must have asked the question for me because my lips never asked him why. He proceeded to explain to me that it was from the lips of Black women that he received his worst criticism. It was us who always referred to him as "Ol' Black Ass", "Midnight", "Charcoal" and all other sorts of hurtful names. He also proceeded to tell me that this is why he always said he would never marry and have children with a Black woman. "I don't want my kids to have to go through the same shit I did", he said.
It is true that I come from a family that encompasses many skin tones. My mother is a light-skinned Black woman. Her father is still often mistaken for a White man . Both my biological father and my step-father were dark-skinned men and I high five my mother every time she says "There ain't nothin' like a dark skinned man". Though there is not a huge disparity, my brother and I though born from the same mother and father, differ in skin tone. But at the moment he said he didn't want his kids to go through what he did, it made it even more clear to me that not everyone was so lucky. This man had been making it a conscious effort for his entire dating life to date someone that looks nothing like him or like his own mother and father because it is his people that have torn him down for his appearance. It has been us who has helped him to develop such a complex that he has decided to protect his legacy from his blackness. Then everything else started to make sense. It came together for me why he put up with her keying his car, flattening his tires and repeatedly referring to him as a "punk ass bitch". Now, these are some of the same things some of my sistas would have said, but the difference was, the Puerto Rican woman who keys his car, flattens his tires and calls him a "punk ass bitch" can give him those light babies and make him feel like he has triumphed over the darkness. That Black woman who may or may not have committed those same offenses could not. Even if he played it safe and went with one of my lighter sisters, he would always have the fear in the back of his mind that when she was angry, she would scream to his son that he was just like his "Black ass daddy" or "that sorry ass nigga". I was saddened for him, but I had to defend us too. I had to tell him how wrong he was for punishing us all for the sins of a few. I had to remind him that he had in fact never dated a Black WOMAN, but that he had dated Black GIRLS and never gave the mature Black woman a chance. I had to bring up the fact that there was something about me as a Black woman that made him feel comfortable enough to confide in me and that if he had ever given a Black woman a chance and not perpetuated then insecurities we have also been led to have about ourselves, then that trust could join with love and make something beautiful. Then I had to give the 1,2 punch, the ol' two-piece and a biscuit, if you will. I had to tell him that because he has allowed himself to be completely broken, emasculated and made into less of a man, he will likely NEVER benefit from the love of a strong Black woman because we will no longer have him. I had to tell him that I did not appreciate the fact that when he had a conversation with me and then had the same one with his White friends, he seemed to move from the hood to the burbs. I had to ask why when he spoke to me, the new J. Cole album was "dope", but when he spoke to our pigment deficient friend, it was "a good album and musically sound". Nevermind the fact that I am educated and a lifelong musician. He had to make the conversation black enough for me. When he spoke to me about the Black man who sits two rows away, he was his "dawg", his "ace" and his "homie". But when he spoke to our neighbor, the guy had been "his good friend for a very long time". I had to tell him how sorry I felt for him that then blackness he hides from is the same blackness he runs to when it's convenient. I had to say how sorry I was that he WAS a Black man, but that because he is fearful of the plight of the Black man, he would never know how to RAISE one. I had to tell him how much of a disservice he was doing himself that because his mind was so clouded, he would never know the beauty of our people. I had to tell him how sick and sad it made me that so many like him exist nowadays. I might have ended it all with, "I am a Black woman who is educated, reads because she wants to, appreciates blackness in all its forms and can be authentic at all times. You? You don't even know who the fuck Fall Out Boy, and Imagine Dragons are, you loser." But today, Black people, I wept for all of us.
TK
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