From childhood, the dichotomy is clear. It is right there in black and white. White is good, and black is bad. White is the color of Jesus robes, of angels and clouds, of heaven and forgiveness. Black is the color of Satan’s garments, of ash and hell, of demons and nightmares. It was there in my Crayola box, where I learned about the world. Grass is green, the sun is yellow, the sky is blue, and people were “flesh”-colored, that apricot/peach tinted one. Brown was for tree trunks and dogs and dirt but not for people. Black was for Mickey Mouse’s ears and the tires on a car but not for people.
So deep runs our animosity and fear of other here in America. We are constantly forcing others into categories, creating difference to deal with that which we fear and do not understand. Rather than appreciation for difference in this young country of immigrants, we have fashioned a culture in our melting pot where the ingredients have separated and begun to curdle rather than melding together for a flavorful and rich whole. In our hurry, we have forgotten that the sum is greater than the parts. We should welcome African Diaspora along with that of the Irish, Czech, Taiwanese, and Sicilian. The culture and influence of each difference person creates a greater depth and variety in our country, another layer to the cake, an additional thread woven into the rug. We are rich with diversity and array.
Our current social consciousness largely misses this compelling and unique opportunity. We are too busy still with our separateness and discrimination. America, for instance, is a country where being black is not enough. It is not okay to be just regular if you are black, one must be the smartest, brightest, best in order to stand out from the rest. To earn recognition and a place. To move to the edge of the bigotry box. Better still to mix something in with the black to make it acceptable.
To be black with blue is good, in the sense of blue blood, “our kind of people,” elitist blacks who alienate themselves from other blacks through breeding and wealth. Surely they have set themselves apart and above other people of color sufficiently to remove themselves from association and inequity on to practicing some bigotry of their own. Black and green are even better, if the green is wealth; envy would not be acceptable. Gold stars of achievement for academia, intelligence, or special efforts are a nice compliment to black, or the silver sparkle of fame works well too. Black and the orange of sweat and basketball are great because they entertain us all the while. Giving of heart and soul is black and red, such as our troops. Sure, we’ll let represent us on the battlefield if you are willing to die for us and we can keep our own children safely at home. Sacrifice is always good if you are the beneficiary, not the giver. If you are black and yellow with the sunshine of happiness and politeness, we will listen to your “Yes, Missus!” without complaint. Even black with brown is acceptable, if you are willing to identify yourself as an Earth Mother, rastifari, to wrap scarves around your head or grow your dreads long and make your difference apparent. Any of those mixtures are more palatable than black alone.
Most people in the United States of America, save the Lost Boys of the Sudan who were visiting here not long ago, are not actually black but brown or tan or sepia or mahogany. Here begins our racism. As my mother-in-law says, “I am not black, I am brown. Am I the color of your shoe?” Our racial discrimination runs so deeply that has become part of our vernacular. The dichotomy of white and black is even within our daily conversation so pervasive that we cease to discern.
Notice the negative symbolism of blackness:
Black mail
Black sheep
Black-listed
Voodoo
Black-balled
Black cloud
Black pit of despair
Black magic
Juxtaposed with the imagery of whiteness:
White as the driven snow
Snowflake
Santeria
Purity
Virginity
White lie
White knight
Prince of light
White magic
Whitewash
Oh, how deep the racism runs.
I am not calling for a new name, not asking that we move from “Black” to some other creative label reserved for all persons non-White, non-Hispanic, non-Asian. Simply, that we notice. That we pause in our cycle of prejudice long enough to recognize the inequities. That we examine the words which create our world and look at the racism so deeply engrained there. That we replace our fear and ignorance with appreciation for variance, the respect of other cultures and the realization of learning from difference.
Let’s start of by calling one another by our names – Mary, Bill, Fran, Joseph – to know one another as individuals, both our similarities and our differences, rather than lumping into a group. Or discriminating by color.
