The identity struggle of the African American Female: My Life as an “Oreo”

For a child the imagination can be the best way to try on a new life.  A child can be an astronaut, a cowboy, the next action hero of a major blockbuster movie.  A child could even use their own imagination to be of a different race.  However, one must question the mental health of a child who would aspire to drastically change such an identifying detail as the color of their skin.  The evidence presented in this academic report will explain many facets of living life as a thoroughly educated, proper speaking, African-American female with stereotypically white mannerisms, speech patterns, and other personality characteristic traits.  In other words, this is my academic discussion of my early attempts to assimilate into a dominate culture to only to later accept myself for who I truly am, a lady of distinction who just happens to have brown skin.

 

Before I begin the retelling the details and influences that lead to me using my imagination to select an alternative race I must first discuss assimilation and childhood fears.  Since the early 90’s, the broadcast and commercial media has strongly campaigned for individual freedom and acceptance.  Television commercials advertise catchy slogans such as, the Army’s insistence for people to “be all that you can be,” the United Negro Funds warnings that “a mind is a terrible thing to waste” or Burger King’s relaxed policy that allows every individual specifically customize their meals reminds members of society we can “have it your way.”  However, most often a child does not really have a strong enough grip onto reality to determine what suits their own personal preferences.  Many grown adults are so fearful of the unknown to such a point that people have been accidentally killed due to inappropriate actions.  Therefore, the idea of acting like, speaking like and inherently taking on the mannerisms and characteristics of a dominating culture could very easily be seen as a method to not only survive, but to thrive.

One day in second grade, the teacher asked the class if each of us were granted a wish what would be our wish and then each student in the class said what their wish.  I had just moved to Chicago from the sunny beach town of Redondo Beach, California, a predominantly white school and believed somewhere some child might secretly share my feelings of loneliness or have a deep desire to become something else.  I really felt that my life did not mirror the images of life that I was seeing on television.  The thought behind the wish was that the wrong things that I had already experienced would not have happen to me if I was white.  White children have both a mother and a father, I had neither.  White children have dogs as pets, I had a rabbit.  In my mind, my life could be or would be perfect…all I had to be was white.  So if we are just using our imagination to the furthest extent then I would like to be white; and that is what I announced to Mrs. Nicolas’ second grade.  Surely if Geppetto could wish upon a star and get a son from a puppet then I can become a Caucasian.

Unfortunately, my wish to simply become a white person did not stop after my embarrassing proclamation.  Children can be cruel, but in their innocence children are more often curious than just mean.  So through-out the years, as the other kids would ask me why I talked white, acted white, and wished to be white it was not always with a malicious attitude.  The other children had only lived in one neighborhood their entire lives.  The adults and children in this small suburb all spoke the same way, thought mostly the same and basically lived the same lifestyle.  It was not always with malice intention that the other kids began asking me why I talked white. 

Because my formative speaking years were spent in California I had no idea that I had already previously adapted to my prior environment and had taken on the characteristics of an upper class, “valley” white girl.  Around the age of nine I told my aunt that I was not sure if I was going to be black when I grew up; and I was sincere.  To me the cost and rewards associated with being black were not attractive enough to persuade me to continue my association with “being black.”  My aunt is an extremely tolerant woman, especially of the impossible childish fantasies; she asked that I think seriously about this change and to keep her update on my final decision. 

As I grew into an adult I, like many other African-American females, began participating in the activities to reaffirm my assimilation into mainstream society’s idea of pretty.  I insisted on having a relaxer, a chemical process using sodium hydroxide and guanidine hydroxide, used in my hair.  This would make the hair straight (at the root) and flowing.  Reverend Al Sharpton called the process of “getting a relaxer” “combing our [black women and men] oppression and exploitation into our hair.”  There were times, in my twenties, when I would see my own skin and would be momentarily puzzled by my brown skin.  Mentally, I had become white, but then similar to the growth of mainstream trends of popular culture, something wonderful happened and I evolved.

From my observations, it seems “being black” has actually been incredibly trendy, hip and cool although it was also looked down upon by the members of the ruling elite and government(s).  For example, in the 70’s many African Americans gained a celebrity status by playing jive talking, only mildly emotional instruments of justice.  The character Shaft went many places in his films and no matter what type of crowd was around he was identified as a strong, dignified and educated black man.  He was a new and exciting entity the world, mainstream society, had imagined could never happen.  In the same regards, I have heard many remarks regarding very specific characteristics and mannerisms that I have begun to wonder if others may consider me a sight to behold.  One day during my internship, my internship coordinator said that I was very articulate and spoke very well, but that that must be a result of my theater training.  Although I had previously mentioned to him that I spent time in the world of theater I neglect to leave out the minor detail that my time was mostly spent backstage.   

Racism in contemporary America has changed; it is in a very subtle fashion.  There still seems to be this “understood” mental conception of Black people and that has tainted the mind of so many people.  The fact of the matter is actions like these are hard to dismiss.  One day while standing in line at a grocery store a Caucasian woman was obviously in a hurry, and she literally looked at me turned her nose up and then pushed her in front of me in the check- out line.  I said to her, “Oh were you trying to get out of the store?”   She ignored me as if I was not talking to her.  I said, “Excuse me.  You are in my way, I am checking out.”  She turned and looked at me like I smelled like day old fish.  She never opened her mouth.  Although the check- out girl was Caucasian as well because she witnessed the entire event she would not ring the lady’s items up.  She started to ring up my items behind this woman’s items.  The check- out girl said to her,” Ma’am you have to wait in line like everyone else!”  The store manager came over and took the woman to another register and had her items checked out.  Then she called me a Nigger.  I laughed in her face and said, “And yet you just portrayed a nigger perfectly.”  It was nice that the clerk was not willing to discriminate against me and treated us all the same.   But to say that that is common is simply not true.  I do not believe there is an African American in the United States under the age of forty who cannot tell you numerous stories of incidences that happened directly to them not just stories to pass on from someone else.

When the mindset of a person is such that they think, they believe, it is their understanding that they are better than you simply because your skin is not the same as theirs.  How do you challenge such a mind?  It is ignorance to look at another person and assess their life’s worth based on the criteria of skin color, or no skin color.  We were always taught that education is the foundation for intelligence and that your ability to learn is the true measure of intelligence.  If you cannot learn you have a much greater challenge to learn.  Education was stressed in our home we have descendants who died for the right to be educated.  Our family built a school, built a bus, and picked up the neighbors children took them to school and educated them.  Many of our older relatives were school teachers, Principal’s, and Superintendents of entire school districts.   My relatives understood, early in the 1920’s and 1930’s, that education was a way to elevate the sub standard of living for most Black American’s.  So they decided to foot the whole bill to educate young black children in their home state of Mississippi.  That is true dedication and commitment.  This is the behavior that can destroy disenfranchisement.

More recently, within this new millennium, the global community has begun to play a huge effect on its self.  As members of the global community do things, such as riots, protests, and so on that influences other members of the global community to take action and make a change in their location.  Strong, charismatic, beautiful, dark women have begun almost out shinning the stereotypical Caucasian looking females on almost every socioeconomic level.  The days when a white person in the South could walk in front of a black person standing at a deli counter and expect to be served have become few and far between within the past few decades, although those things do still happen.

Though I may be graduating from college with a degree in Communications I am not a scholar educated in the way, nor have I conducted an in-depth study on, the assessment of others.  The opinions, statements and generalizations I pose are based upon my own personal experiences and observations.  But from what I have seen, if one was to compare the sense (level) of camaraderie in ghettos of America versus the ghettos of India, I would say India outranks America ten to one.  When described by my white friends I have been consistently told I am intimidating, but people of any other color, creed or nation embrace me and instantly think I am sweet and gentle.  I just happen to be tall, not just happen to be black.  Hopefully one day mainstream society will honestly see me as a person who happens to be black; I guess I should be happy that in today’s society I am, first and foremost, viewed as a number.