On Being Black

As I sit typing this, I have to ask myself, given the opportunity, who would I choose to address this to? I can think of many individuals, from family to friends. But were I able, I would sit down with the entire black community of this great country, and address to them, specifically, my following thoughts. That is not to say, however, that these words are useless to all others, in fact, it is quite the opposite. However, I, a black man, who strongly advocates personal responsibility, feel it appropriate, given the longstanding “stereotypes” and recent racial issues, to direct this towards the millions of other black (by ANY percentage) men and women in America. 

I ask you, men and women of the black community, what exactly it means to “act black” or to “be black?” The two are certainly not the same. To act something is to take on a certain persona or characteristics, whilst to be something is simply that, you are what you are. What exactly defines “being” black? What defines “acting” black? How do you “act” a color? I fully understand that the term “to act black” in intended to somehow be cultural, however it is a gross misnomer. Furthermore, with the varying environmental and demographic degrees of this country, it is inherently impossible for one black neighborhood/area/group to be a carbon copy of another, thus coalescing into one distinct cultural identity. For example, the actions, verbiage, accent, dialect, pace, fashion, etc. of a black group (for lack of a better phrase) in St. Louis is very much different from one in Atlanta, that one being different from Houston, and that one being different from Newport News. Were “black” one globally distinct culture, then I could understand the concept of “acting black,” as you would be acting according to that particular culture. But “black” is not a culture. And even in terms of culture, black does not always mean Africa. Kenya, Ghana, Zimbabwe (formerly Rhodesia), etc., all of those would are different black cultures. So, to “act Kenyan” would be understood to mean that you are acting according to the social norms and beliefs of that particular culture. But black is not a culture, it is not a country, it is not a state, it has no currency, no imports or exports, no government, no figurehead, no appointed leader. To clarify, we have a President that is black, but we do not have a president OF black. 

If you have followed me this far, then bear with me a bit longer. 
You cannot say you are from the State of Black, thus justifying “acting black.” So, is it the words, the actions, the clothes, the accent, the dialect, the music, etc. that defines acting black? This is where I lose some and piss off others. If these things do define acting black, then is that not a stereotype? And do we not rail against the government, society, the media, whoever we can, against using those same stereotypes? “You cannot use these things to define me because that is a racial stereotype and that is wrong and unfair to me. But I will use those very same things to define others of my race and that is perfectly acceptable.” In what universe is that not hypocritical? You, yes you, black man, black woman, use these same things to define and gauge the “blackness” of other black men and women. Don’t let a white man or white woman use the clothes, the verbiage, the dialect, the music, etc. to define or gauge your “blackness.” No, if that happens then it is racist and you will be calling on the likes of the Southern Poverty Law Center, the ACLU, Al Sharpton, and Jesse Jackson. If anyone else uses those aspects in the same manner, then they are stereotyping and racial profiling. Quick, call Al Sharpton to stand on a soap box made of rainbows and sunshine to make a lengthy, pseudo-impassioned speech. But when you do it to each other, it’s not stereotyping, no, in fact, it is an accurate means of identification. This is simply not true black man, black woman. How can we still sit here and blame the white man for stereotyping when we do the exact same thing to ourselves? How can we even still call it a stereotype when we live it and use it as an identifier? How dare you, black man, scream and rail against the white man for stereotyping you, when you turn right around and judge another black man “not black enough” because he doesn’t adhere to those identifiers. Ironically, great men, black men, American leaders like Gen. Colin Powell and Dr. Ben Carson have been ridiculed and denounced, by their very own black community, for as long as I can remember. They were not black enough, yet one became the first black Chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff, the other became the premier pediatric neurosurgeon…in the world. But to you, black man on the block, black man on the basketball court, black man in front of the mic, what does any of that mean to you? Does it give you something to aspire to? Does it light a fire under your ass? Does it tell you that anything, absolutely anything is possible? Most importantly, does it tell you that you do not have to adhere to the identification pressed upon you by anyone, black or white? It should. Why, then, do we call them not black enough? 
 

Obviously, that phrase does not indicate the level of pigment in your skin. What exactly is “black enough.” Again, I ask you, is it the music, the clothes, the hair, the manner of verbal discourse, the sport, etc.? Here, I shall use myself as an example. I grew up in middle class America with middle class parents in middle class homes with other middle class Asian, white, and black kids. I went to high school in the County, which is about as far from anything stereotypically black as you can get. I was on the wrestling and football teams in high school, but my real passions were your more unconventional, and not conventionally black, sports like skating, hockey, martial arts, and later, fencing. There are more black skaters now than there were 15 years ago, and it truly warms my heart to see that. You just didn’t see many black kids doing the things I was interested in. My father commented as such. I like old school hip hop, rap, and R&B, not much of any of the newer stuff. And by new I mean the last 10 years. But I have a wide ranging collection of music, from Vivaldi and Beethoven to Frank Sinatra. From the Bee Gees to 3 Days Grace. From Metallica to Michael Jackson. From Avenged Sevenfold to Bob Dylan. I’ve got David Allan Coe, Willie Nelson, Hank Sr. and Jr., Johnny Cash, Darius Rucker, the list goes on. I love rock music and country music, two genres which apparently “disturb” my family. You will rarely hear me listening to rap, hip hop, or R&B. I like going to the honky tonk, I wear jeans, t-shirts, boots, and a straw cowboy hat. I pick a blade of grass and chew on it for a while. I am a cyclist. I hate loose fitting and baggy clothes. I thought this was funny: there used to be a game on Facebook called Song Pop where you had to guess songs or artists. In the Rock and Country categories, I never scored below a 97%, but in the rap, hip hop, and R&B categories, I never scored above a 10%. When I first moved to my new middle school, a group of 6 or 7 black kids, who all lived a few streets away…in the County, approached me and asked if I knew how to “freestyle.” I followed the X-Games religiously, so my understanding of freestyling was Freestyle BMX, Freestyle Motocross, and Freestyle Skating. Oh, how wrong I was. In short, I watch NASCAR, I drive an old truck, I’ll be buried in my boots, and I’ll take a home in the country woods with a tin roof and a gravel road over the city any day. But that is not because that is what the color of my skin dictates. 

According to popular opinion, according to the identifiers that you, black man and black woman, say I should live by, I am not black enough. I like what I like and do what I do because that is what I like and what I choose to do. It has nothing to do with the color of my skin. But according to the black community, even those who grew up literally just the same as I did, even to some in my family, I am not black enough. That used to significantly bother me. It bothered me to the point that I wanted to be accepted by people of my color so bad that I tried to wear the baggy clothes, listen to the music, and I tried to hate the white man. Unfortunately, I am not a fan of pulling my pants up every 5 seconds, I missed that country twang, and my best friend is a down home southern white boy from Alabama, and I couldn’t hate him if I tried. Needless to say, that experiment died quick. I hear all the time from whites and blacks alike that I am the whitest black guy they know. It’s all jokes and we laugh over it. But it really isn’t a joke, and it’s not funny. Because I like what I like and do what I do, that makes me not black enough? After a point, I quit trying to be what I wasn’t and that’s not likely to change because, frankly, I am too damn old, to damn broke, and too damn tired to give a damn. If you can’t see past my skin color, that’s on you and there is no love lost between us. Those that I call friend, those that I call family, they are comprised of many backgrounds and colors. Their defining characteristic is that they all know me for me, not for the color of my skin. 

A white cat and a black cat both walk the same, shit the same, eat the same, play the same, yet we don’t use their colors to dictate their actions. If the black cat likes to sleep on the couch and the white cat like to sleep on the floor, we don’t say it’s because one is white and the other is black. A brown oak tree and a white oak tree both grow the same, both roots dig into the ground while their branches reach to the sky looking for sunlight. If one falls before the other, we don’t say it was because of its color. I have a black Ford truck and my buddy has a white one. Same year, same model. They both drive the same, they both have the same engine, 4 wheels, 2 doors, and a tailgate. If one runs out of gas or breaks down before the other, we don’t blame that on the color of the truck. Black Mamba is a deadly venomous snake, your average black snake isn’t. But that has nothing to do with the color of the snake. Do you not realize, black man and black woman, that in all of creation, we are the only animal that dictates actions, words, and behavior based off of skin color? If the rest of nature don’t care, why should we? But we are humans and we are so smart that we create problems for ourselves that exist nowhere in all of creation. We humans are so smart that sometimes we think ourselves into stupidity. 

Now, I am fully aware of the argument about how because blacks were oppressed that this and that and the other became a part of our social psyche, etc. What I am about to say is in no way denouncing or minimizing the actions and effects of slavery and the highly charged racial issues that are about as old as this country. But take a second to think about this: people have been enslaving people, white people have been enslaving white people as long as people have existed. But why don’t we hear the white man railing against the white man for keeping him down and making him a second rate citizen? Why hasn’t the white man’s social psyche been broken to the point that he creates identifiers for himself and then gets mad as society for identifying him by those very same identifiers?

Did slavery occur? Was it horrible? Should any human be treated this way? Was the Jim Crow era disgustingly wrong? Are there problems with the corporate, educational, financial, and political systems in this country that lead back to race? Yes, on all accounts. These are all incontrovertible facts. However, as I advocated personal responsibility before, I do so again. Were I to have dropped out of high school, become a drug dealer, gotten arrested and generally lived a life of wanton crime and degradation, ending up dead on the street, whose fault would that have been? Would it have been the white man’s for holding me down? Would it have been my parents’ fault? Would my arrest for my actions have been simply because the white police man tryin to keep a nigga from makin a buck? Who would have borne the responsibility for my life? Was my dropping out because of the color of my skin? Were my choices dictated by the color of my skin? If that is the case, then every man and woman in jail should be released because the crimes they committed were dictated by their skin color, and as such, they bear no responsibility for their actions since they did not choose their skin color, and thus did not choose to commit the crime. But does that really fly? 
I didn’t think so. 
I have done things that I am not proud of, but I did them because I was a young and dumb fool, not because I am black. I have not done as well as I could have in certain things, but that was because I slacked off, not because I am black. I was not kidnapped, chained, and forced to work in a field. I was not lynched. No “White Only” signs prevent me from going into the diner down the street and having a beer. No federal or state laws prevent me from going to the school of my choice. No white man with a gun to my head is telling me I can’t do this or that because I’m a nigger. No fault or failure in my life has ever been because of the inherent nature of the color of my skin. I have nothing to blame on the color of my skin. My success or my failure is based on my choices and my actions, not the color of my skin. 

So, my skin is black, but that does not define who I am. I define who I am by what I do, what I say, and by what I stand for. I like who I am and I am proud to be me. Am I proud of all the great many black men and women who have gone on to do great things and do I hope to give other black people hope and pride in whatever I do in life. However, I do what I do because I choose to do so. I am who I am because I choose to be so. My mind is mine and mine alone. I think for my own damn self, sometimes I don’t think as much as I should, so any failures are mine and mine alone, not some far-fetched breakdown in the social psyche.

None of this is to belittle or demean any black man or woman. It is to wake you up, to call you from your complacency, to hold you accountable for yourselves, as we all should. Any other way, I wouldn’t be me. Any other way, you wouldn’t be you. That doesn’t mean you are too black or not black enough. It simply means you are you, regardless your skin color. You do what you do because that’s what you want to do, not because your skin color makes you do so. You, black man and black woman, are and always have been capable of soaring to great heights. Stop limiting yourself. Stop creating your own stereotypes. And if someone is telling you otherwise, then stop listening to them! You, your body, your life, is a blank open book. You write the definition and the story, it doesn’t write you. If you don’t like the story, then erase it and start over, or tear out the page, or change the outcome. The story isn’t already decided because of the color of the book. So, black man and black woman, define yourselves, write your own story. 

I am black, I am a man. I am a black man. But most importantly, I am who I choose to be.