Tell me what it’s like. You mean being black?
Over the recent weeks, that direct question naturally keeps being respectfully asked of me from well-meaning friends. And I’m appreciative for the genuine interest.
I must candidly confess my immediate thought is firstly an internal question: Is that the first time you’ve had that burning curiosity? You don’t have to satisfy me with an answer to that. Allow me to respond to your question, though.
We’ve been masking for a long time. All people of colour have had to wear masks to conceal our authentic voices, faces, emotions and thoughts for much of our lives. And, the clever woman of colour, her mask is her foundation. She carefully applies makeup atop her mask.
Principally, it’s exactly the same as I naturally imagine it is to be white, Hispanic, Jewish or Muslim. We wake up; brush our teeth; make our beds; take showers, and; we get up — dress up — ready to show up. Like you, we eat breakfast – increasingly, making poor food choices. We may catch up on emails and social media, watch Morning Joe, kiss our partners on the forehead and go to work (sans-pandemic or pandemic). And, I genuinely think that’s where the differences screech to an ultimate end.
But generally, we don’t feel any differently, I imagine. We care about similar things: Getting the bills paid; being in healthy relationships; not having that white woman squeeze herself into the corner of the elevator, her purse clutched as if she is trying to protect me from its contents. And that constantly bemusing thought of how I am going to respond to that neighbour who still seems confused that I share residency in the same Yorkville condo building as she does. It’s not her fault that she’s a fucking idiot. Or is it?
See? The same!
THE GOOD
I think it is cool as hell! Mostly.
There isn’t a piece of modern music that has not had our imprint on it. Hip Hop, jazz, dance, R&B, rock, pop, soul, Neo-Soul, reggae and house music. Everything but EDM.
And while the best actors in Hollywood still seem to be disqualified from winning Oscars based on the colour of their skin, everyone still knows that Denzel deserves a few more Academy awards. Julia Roberts, an excellent actress, once said as she accepted the same award before Washington had: “I cannot absorb living in a world where I have an Oscar for best actress and Denzel doesn't have one for best actor.”
We make great superheroes. Ask the Black Panther. Ask Giannis Antetokounmpo.
Jay-Z, Beyoncé, Drake and Rihanna are culture phenomena. As are Tiger, Prince, LeBron, Kobe, Michael (Jackson, Tyson & Jordan), Nina, Martin, Malcom, Maya, Usain, Barrack, Michelle, Misty, Serena, Venus, Marley, Oprah, Basquiat, DNICE, and Rupaul. Notice that they only need one official name.
We can’t watch a movie without talking to the screen.
We start shit: like, Tidal & Beats. And make it sound good. Because it sounded like shit before us
We do the math that made pyramids stretch upwards 4,500 years ago, and that sent people into space in the 60’s. We invent peanut butter and traffic lights. We do things that would make anyone proud. Just GOOGLE it!
We shut it down on VERZUZ. Ask anyone who saw Beenie Man and Bounty Killer. Jill and Erykah instantly made the social media world feel good for a minute, too.
I’m told the best weed is in Jamaica. So is the Blue Mountain coffee. And the beaches. And the food. And the music.
People of colour can not walk by each other without a nod, a smile or “hello.” We were taught that to not acknowledge someone near you is rude. Stop being so rude, people!
THE BAD
DWB is a thing. You know? Driving While Black. I don’t have a driver license because that leaves me with one less problem.
Why do you think they call it “The Projects”?
Our wise parents have warned us repeatedly: “When an officer stops you, keep your hands where he can see them, don’t move suddenly. Be respectful. Yes, sir. No, sir. You hear me?”
I’ve been in cars with lifelong friends and been pulled over by police officers - for having the audacity to DWB. Periodically it’s a pleasant exchange: “License and registration, please. Thank you. Have a good evening.” Although, I’m still not certain why we were stopped each of those times. That has happened too frequently to count. It’s just what happens.
Don’t drive through nice neighbourhoods. Even if you live in one. Don’t drive an expensive car.
Smile.
Every so often, it’s not so optimistic. Have you ever been pulled over and asked to get out of the car? Sure. But, have you been asked to pull over and stopped exactly as you’re about to enter the freeway? Perhaps. But have you ever been stoped, asked to get out of the car and had the female frisked? By ‘frisked’, I mean felt up. You would call it ‘sexual assault.’ Hands down her top, up her dress, panties pulled to the side as fingers enter her. She called it “finger fucking.”
That’s done for effect, too. You see, you’re being challenged: Defend her! You know you want to. I dare you to. But I dare you NOT to. It’s simple: If you do, your ass gets beaten for resisting arrest and assaulting an officer. And if you don’t defend her, she will hate you for life for allowing her that humiliation and indignity.
“Much appreciated, gentlemen. Drive safely, now.”
Smile.
There are other times where it’s your turn to be humiliated. If you’re lucky, it’s just ultimate humiliation. We now know that sometimes you just die. Still humiliated. Crying. Undoubtedly knowing you are being slowly killed. Agonizingly asking for your mother who died several years before. Hopeless.
Eyes fastened. Deep breath. Smile.
You grow up fighting a lot. You can recall all of the bullies you faced by name. I also precisely remember their spat venom: coon, spook, jungle-bunny, nigger, tar baby, boy, jiggaboo, monkey. Periodically they just spit in your face.
The jokes. “Do you know how God made black people? Freeze! Put your hands up against the wall” (they simulate the sounds and motions of spray painting.) “See! That’s why the palms of their hands and bottoms of their feet are white.”
Smile.
Your nose is overly broad, teeth too pearly, dick too long.
There are times where you get so outraged that... FUCK IT! I’m going to bust this boy’s skull. You stop yourself just before the skull is cracked, but other parts will leak blood. You never leave the scene happy. Just angrier, knowing you will have to do that again. Again. Again. You feel anger, a lot.
It’s all good. Smile.
You get someone white co-signing for the apartment or the loan.
You never get used to the same fucking people who, while entering your condo building, just steal enough room through the entrance doors for themselves to get through. They are genuinely shocked when you enter the elevator with them, keys in hand, going to a higher floor. FUCKERS!
You’re too dumb to play quarterback. Even while Warren Moon was rewriting the record books and Doug Williams was winning a Super Bowl. Forget that the quarterbacks in today's game are black and make the great Tom Brady look like a fire hydrant.
It’s not-so-subtly suggested that you go to trade school. Even though you achieve good grades.
Smile.
You can go to Columbia University; get a law degree from Harvard and come to be the President of the Harvard Law Review, and; be transformed into a community activist. You can become a Senator from the great State of Illinois. You can become elected the 44th President of the United States of America – two terms. You can do all of those things before turning 48, and it still won’t be enough to be considered an American. A birther conspiracy ensues. You aren’t human enough to be an American.
Drop your head. Smile.
No matter how good you are, you are always black. As Jay-Z said, "still nigger."
The world has plenty of patients, tolerances, and opportunities for mediocre white males. But that chance at mediocrity isn’t extended to anyone else. Just ask the 45th President of the United States. Shit, Willy Loman with his two good-for-nothing sons. (“Death of a Salesman,” we were warned.)
Sigh. Smile.
You wake up every day knowing you walk the streets and work amongst people who don’t wish you well. You know that there are some parts of the world where the violent scenes in the film, American History X (if you want to get angry, watch the film) - or Minnesota or Ferguson, are real and entirely possible - even on the multi-cultural tapestry of The 6ix.
Smile.
If denied a bank loan, it should be due to bad credit. Not because I am black. Stop following me around the store. I can afford what you’re selling. Or, like everyone else: I’m merely looking.
Smile.
We are to ascend the corporate tower. But only from the outside, using a rope. And, it has been greased. We are to climb, but always settle for something less. Then, adding injury to insult, told that we should, “just pull yourselves up by the bootstraps and stop complaining.” Fuck you. FUCK YOU!
No. Smile.
The examples are too numerous. We are treated differently. But I don’t feel unknown. I don’t want to be treated as if I’m marked. However, some parts of our world want me to feel I am inferior. We must habitually do a SitRep: a conscious self-assessment of our historical circumstances and our social situations. Don’t get extremely comfortable.
Smile.
What is it like to be black?
I’m tired. Sometimes angry, seemingly for no reason - though, with plenty of reasons, really. And I’m not permitted to indicate it. I’m tired. I’m thoroughly tired. And I’m tired of being tired. But I’m grateful you asked. Truly.
And one more thing: Through it all, I will not be diminished.