Godheval

When I was in high school, there were two things that could almost instantly set me off: If someone insulted my intelligence, or if someone called me a “nigger”. When I say “set me off”, I mean that I was ready to get into a physical fight with them. I used to say that if I even saw a person’s mouth forming the word, I’d punch them in the face before the second syllable was released. I can remember at least one instance where I hit a kid in the middle of history class for muttering it to me under his breath. Thinking back on those days, I’ve wondered what that was all really about. Was it because I felt the word was an affront against my “black heritage”?

No, probably not. It was more likely a personal pride issue – independent of race – an assertion against what I felt was the other person’s attempt to relegate me to a position of inferiority. This would be consistent with with my other trigger – insults against my intelligence – as I have long regarded intelligence as a gauge of my self-worth. When I reflect on my life, and consider my present feelings, I realize something. I do not identify with any aspect of being “black”. Being “black” to me feels more like a circumstance into which I was born than anything that I claim as a part of my identity.

I have no specific interest in “black history” (as if the gestalt of all the experiences of people who have been classified as “black” throughout history could even be funneled into one distinct category). I do not feel any sense of “black pride”, because the concept itself exists only in opposition to that perceived as “non-black”, and is therefore fundamentally racist. Historically, I have favored women of European background. I speak standardized English. I dislike the vast majority of rap and R&B. In the view of some people, these things may qualify me as some kind of sellout, or a “black person who acts white”. Yet, interestingly enough, all of my closest friendships are with others who society has identified as black. Our friendships, however, are not based on our common “blackness”, but rather the qualities that we appreciate in one another that have nothing to do with race.

I do not give priority to works rendered specifically by people identified as black. It is of interest to me, however, when so-called “black” people excel in areas that they haven’t historically (e.g. tennis players Venus & Serena Williams), but for the same reasons that I am fascinated by the people such as Eminem and Jin, for their proficiency in rap, which has been dominated by African- American performers.

Racism towards “black people” doesn’t upset me merely because I have been identified as black. The general concept of race, as a social construct of people in power intended to justify the subjugation of those they conquered or bought as slaves, is what annoys me. Racism, as a derivative of that construct also frustrates me. I become equally annoyed with people who display racism towards any other perceived category of people.

However, the plight of African-Americans, is of particular interest to me. This is not because I have been labelled black, and not even because I can identify with it in most cases, but because it is a human dilemma, one that is unique in all of history. I will fully elaborate my interpretation of this situation in a future multi-part entry entitled “The Black Dilemma”. The troubles faced by African-Americans today, while at least in part a manifestation of racism, are not my concern because I have been labelled black, but because they are often a general injustice, which I find to be intolerable. Particularly with regards to socioeconomic status, the dilemma of African-Americans is shared by others of lower income and those who have been otherwise disenfranchised. A white family living in a poor and predominantly black neighborhood surely understands the troubles of their neighbors better than I do, as they have lived a similar life, while I have not.

In my essay, “Misrepresentation“, I ask why “out of ALL the different ways African-Americans live and act, the gangsta rap icon has been chosen to represent them?” The truth at that time may have been hard for me to acknowledge, but perhaps it is because many people today subscribe to African-American pop culture – in which the rapper icon has become paramount. In my experience, status as a “black person” seems to have become standardized. It is as if to fulfill some status quo, “black people” must like rap, reggae, R&B or other types of music mostly performed by other so-called black people.

Amongst the younger population, dressing certain ways or at least sporting certain brands of clothing, appear to be qualifiers for acceptance or alienation. While there are many sub-cultures, and many ways that people identify with one another on the basis of physical appearance, the “dressing black” phenomenon is unique. A person may dress a certain way that identifies them as “punk”, and they will be just as quickly pigeon-holed by another non-punk of their own “race” as they would by any other non-punk. Punk, while most common amongst “white” people, is not claimed by them alone. The styles that make up “dressing black”, on the other hand, are regarded as an exclusive domain. People of other “races” who wear these clothes or adopt certain associable behaviors are considered to be dressing or acting “black” – and often condemned by both sides, that is, from those in their own “race”, as well as black-identifying people.

What is it, really, that makes a person “black”, anyway? If we accept the idea of people “acting black” or “dressing black”, then surely “black” is nothing genetic. A person cannot alter their genetic makeup. However, there are plenty of black-identified people who do not follow this protocol of acting or dressing black, yet they still claim the race as their own, and are recognized as such by others. So it must be something else. Is it the color of a person’s skin? Amongst so-called black people, there are thousands of different pigments (none of which, mind you, is actually the color “black”), so which are we to recognize as representing “blackness”? What about the Aborigines of Australia, or the darker skinned people of southeast Asia, or American Indians? They share common pigmentation with “black” people, but yet they aren’t considered black. So, it can’t be skin color.

Is it genetics? If so, then what about the fact that people with the same blood type have more genes in common than those of the same race and different blood types? While there is covariance between many of the genes that produce traits identified as “black”, there is no “black genome”. It has also been discovered that there is almost as much biological diversity amongst the people of Africa as there is amongst the entire world’s population. This is connected to the fact that the ancestry of all people can be traced back to Africa. People of the more “immediate” (and by that I mean the past 500-1000 years) African diaspora preserve that diversity and increase it through their blending with other peoples, and therefore are all very different biologically. Therefore, “blackness” cannot be a matter of genetics.

Is it simply all people who have African ancestry? The African diaspora has spread all across the globe, branching out to form thousands of unique cultures and millions upon millions of unique people. How can we possibly fit all of those people, with all of their notable differences into one giant category known as “black”? It is a travesty. Perhaps black is synonymous with “African- American”? If so, someone had better hurry and tell all the non-American people who have been labelled black and discriminated against that they’re not really “black”, afterall. By now, I hope my point is becoming clear?

As I mentioned earlier, the mere concept of race is a social construct. Most sociologists, anthropologists, and biologists acknowledge this by now. It was created first as a means of identifying people who looked differently from those who founded the concept, and would eventually become a tool of prejudice, discrimination, and subjugation. So, am I to take on this label, propagated throughout history on a foundation of hatred, passed onto me by the very people who would continue to hate me for it? Isn’t that in some way validating their claim that I am so different from other human beings as to deserve my own special title and all of the stigmas and prejudices that come with it? At this point I see it as analogous to the yellow star that Jews were forced to wear by Adolf Hitler, the only difference being that I’m wearing my label willingly.

What I am about to propose may cause me to be alienated by other black-identifying people. However, in that I have never felt particularly “at home” amongst them or any other broad category of people, I don’t think my life will change. What I am proposing is the complete renunciation of my “blackness”, the deconstruction of my racial context.

Unfortunately, the people who discriminate against me for being “black” will continue to do so, regardless of these thoughts or any others that establish me as a unique individual independent of my racial tag. People who feel inclined to call me kin, or identify with me because they regard me as black will continue to do so, until in some cases my behavior, way of speaking, or ideologies create a gap between us.

The purpose of renunciation is to make a personal statement against the very concept of race. On an everyday level, what will change is that I will no longer accept any feelings of obligation towards any person or ideology on the basis of race. I will no longer adjust my way of speaking, or feign interest in or understanding of a topic simply because I think it will foster some greater sense of race-based kinship. If an issue does not interest me, I will not feel it necessary to give it higher priority simply because it is an issue facing a certain category of people within which I am perceived to exist. I will reject all criticism of my thoughts and behavior as not befitting a “black” person, or any other “type”, because I will no longer identify myself as any of them.

Does this mean that I will be any less unforgiving of racial discrimination? Does it mean that I will intentionally alienate myself from people who have been placed in any one category? Absolutely not. It simply means that I will reject race as a foundation for new relationships, that I will seek to appreciate and relate to people on separate pretexts, such as common interests, ideas, and opinions. Essentially, I feel that I will be truly genuine, rather than conforming to some archaic classification system that has never been to my benefit or served any practical purpose in my life. I am truly representing myself as a person who henceforth can exist – at least ideologically – independent of obsolete social constructs.

While this article is mostly a rejection of the concept of race, I wish to also subject my ethnicity to examination. I simply cannot deny the influence of ethnic perceptions in shaping the person I have become. The term “African-American” has been appropriate in several ways. I am both a person visibly identifiable as being of African descent, and the experience of being of African descent in America is a unique one. I would be foolish not to acknowledge how that context has shaped my development as a person. To name just one effect, I have not been a beneficiary of the so-called “wages of whiteness”, that is, benefiting from the numerous advantages given to people perceived as “white” in America. My ancestry also consists partly of the Caribe and Portuguese of Trinidad. Channeled through my mother and grandmother, different aspects of those cultures have influenced me as well, most notably my affinity towards West Indian cuisine. Also, somewhere in my background is Seminole – on my father’s side – although I know very little of that ancestral line.

However, acknowledging these ethnic roots, is considerably different than “identifying” with them. It is said that ethnicity is determined by common “tribe”, language, religion, and culture, and that it sometimes corresponds to biological similarities as well. I do not subscribe to any of those things. My existentialist perspective on life has given me the freedom to rethink who I am, and now I have to say that more than anything I identify with the “culture of ME”. The influences of my background nonwithstanding, the final product that is “me” is a homogenous hybrid, a whole that is greater than – i.e. existing beyond, not qualitatively superior to – the sum of its parts.

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