Thin, Black Skin
November 29th, 2006
I work for the College of Communication at the University of Texas at Austin as a web designer and writer. (I didn’t have much to do with the design of our current site. This design is the result of “design by committee”.) Yesterday I received a strange email from the President of the Black Faculty and Staff Association asking if I could please give her a call and answer a website question.
I’m not a member of the BFSA, because I don’t care about being black. I realize this “not caring” is a luxury borne on the backs of those who participated in the civil rights movement and borne of my fair-ish skin color. Nevertheless, I really don’t pay much attention to being black. I don’t consider myself part of the “black community”. It simply isn’t one of my personal identifiers. So I thought it a bit strange this woman would choose to email me out of the blue like that, but considering how much I love what I do I decided it wouldn’t be a burden to return her phone call.
It was a strange conversation. In the middle she stopped and said, “Wait…you are African-American, right?” I winced, and not only because I hate the term “African American”. I winced because I knew what that question meant, especially when it was followed with, “Where are you from?” Those questions mean, “Why do you talk like you’re white?”
I don’t sound like your stereotypical black girl. I sound like any California-bred Caucasian. This has largely been a good thing for me, because as we all know, “sounding white” (unless you “sound Southern”) means “sounding educated”. It’s unfortunate, but it’s true. The only time this was ever a problem was during my formative years when the black kids at my new public school (I had previously been a private school brat for 7 years) told me that I could never be one of them because 1) my hair was too good 2) I dressed white and 3) I talked funny. I was good and shunned by the entire black population at my junior high school, except by one other black girl similarly shunned.
Once bitten, I never really gained any black friends. My attitude after that was, “Fuck ’em.” Perhaps that’s underserved. And perhaps it’s high time I grew out of it. But thus far I am still apprehensive of black folks as a group. Not really individual blacks. It’s something I consciously work on.
But to return to this story, the woman on the phone wanted me to design a website for the BFSA—for free. Because, of course, I’m black and I should be happy to do free work for an association for blacks that I don’t care about and don’t belong to. Because by nature of my skin color, I’m automatically part of the club.
Except for all the times I haven’t been. Which has been my entire life.
The entire conversation felt surreal to me. After asking where I was from and verifying that I was indeed African-American, she asked whether the university I had attended had been “historically black”. What difference did it make? Did it make me out to be less of a black girl because I hadn’t attended a historically black school? And furthermore, why was so much of our conversation centered around being black? She wanted help with a website. While I realize it’s a website for black folks, was it important that I be “down with the cause” in order to help her with a website? Was it important that we discuss the ins and outs of my blackness? I don’t even know this woman. Why was it even appropriate for her to ask me questions about my background and education when all she wants is professional work done pro bono?
The whole thing made me angry. And on top of being angry, I felt hurt. And that part is difficult to explain. I’ve been an “outsider” all my life. Never white, but never “black enough”. It took until my early twenties to feel comfortable in my skin. But it’s a thin comfort, and easily damaged. And something about that conversation left me unsettled. Once again I found myself between worlds, but this time I felt belittled as well as taken advantage of. Because in a moment of weakness, I agreed to design a quick and dirty template just to get off the phone.
I haven’t decided yet if I will fulfill that agreement or email her to get out of it. I’m a pussy when it comes to confrontation.
Afterwards, my (white) co-workers and I got into a discussion about race and ethnicity that was interesting, but felt somehow shallow. Perhaps because they couldn’t really understand where I was coming from, much as they would like to. They mean well, and I know they want to support me. But this is a road I travel alone. It’s always been this way.
It’s actually very similar in the gay community. There’s this mentality that goes, “oh, you’re gay, so you’ll want to contribute all of your free time/money/whatever to any and all gay and lesbian causes.” And sadly, for a lot of people (I want to say ‘most’ here), any volunteering is just a see-and-be-seen sort of thing.
As to other people not really being able to relate, at least (most) white people realize that they don’t have a minority perspective. That isn’t always the case with straight people. I get a bit ruffled when a straight person compares a typical experience of theirs to coming out of the closet or even being gay. One straight acquaintence once told me regarding his divorce, “I imagine it’s a lot like coming out of the closet.” I’m sure he felt some sense of freedom after the divorce, but that’s not what coming out of the closet is like.
I’m sitting here upset and rolling my eyes READING it, I can’t imagine how upsetting it was to hear that junk at work. (But I do know what it sounds like. I have this discussion regularly about family members doing business with Christian business owners whenever they can.)
I double-dog dare you to set up a WordPress CMS for them using the default template. After all, you get what you pay for…
I HAVE LIVED AND HAVE EXPERIENCED ALMOST EXACTLY EVERYTHING YOU DESCRIBED “NEVER WHITE, BUT NOT BLACK ENOUGH” AND COMPLETELY UNDERSTAND WHERE YOU ARE COMING FROM. THANKS FOR SHARING, IT’S NICE NOT TO FEEL ALONE.
I’m afraid that I can’t offer any words of wisdom here (not that I ever can, of course), but I did find this a very interesting read. I’m sure that someone who hasn’t been there wouldn’t understand, but your writing is very lucid here and does, I think, give a glimpse of something I might not otherwise have seen.
I’d like to say sorry, I feel ashamed of being white now… because ‘blacks’ are commonly associated by most people as an ethnic minority with no education and rythmic accent. It’s something deep-rooted in us, at a subconcious level. Just the way we think size 0 is cool and women after 50 should hang their heads in shame and use anti-agin stuff as if gettin older is something we should be ashamed of.Anyway I have been bullied, discriminated against as many people have a prejudiced attitude towards me. Unfortunately as (much as I’d like to) I’m not black, but I am Polish and I live in N.I. which seems to give people an allowance to treat me like some inferior piece of crap.I am always excluded, taken advantage of, made to do all the work for the ‘cool’ kids. Day after day saddos with no self-esteem get their kicks out of making my life a living hell, which they quite frankly really dont need to do, but my stressed as hell parents do qute well themselves. Sorry to say all this, but u seem like such a kind and open-minded person, so I hope u wont mind.
how odd to read an article so much like a mirror. im also a fair skinned black girl who “talks white” and does web design for a living. if you said you were i.t. as well i would’ve thought someone was playing a joke on me. well unlike some previous commentors, i do have some advice for you. up until just a couple of years ago, i was also quite a wuss about confrontation. fortunately for me, a friend of mine caught me in a “2 days w/o sleep, spazzed out over-caffinated studying for finals” state as they were threatening another of my friends and my usually overly mild will and auto-anger repression system suffered a complete system failure. And in stereotypical style, i passionately and indignantly told her off. id seen mom do it, but i was always embarrased and had never done it myself. But when i did it, something id been holding back for years was released. it just felt so right to finally be verbally justified. i did have to do some damage control, and its very rare that im blunt with anybody today let alone have to “tell them off,” but every now and then its necessary. And its good to know that if i have to, I can. You may not have to be rude with ignorant people like the woman from the BFSA, but you can definately BE JUST AS FORWARD as she was, try “I’m sorry ma’am but i don’t see how the percentage of black people who attended my college is relavant to your web design needs, nor am i currently in the position to do pro bono work for your organization at this time. I appreciate though, just knowing someone prefers my design style to other designers on campus.” =)
Ola,
I’m sorry you feel that way. It’s horrible to be mistreated, and there’s never an excuse for it. It doesn’t matter what color you are: if you don’t feel accepted, that’s always hard. I’m glad you feel free to speak up here though; I only wish I’d noticed your comment earlier (I havent been getting comment notifications for some reason…)
People who get bullied are commonly being ignored.I had to drop out of one of my GCSE choices, because people who I had to work with started physically harassing me.They think I can take it, and have to bow to their abuse. They think I’m inferior.My principal made me make a lot of speeches about how great the school I go to is. I feel like there is nothing I can do. I am always being made to pay for what is being done to me.I just don’t get it.