Baldwin & Beyoncé & Black History Month

There have been so many think pieces flooding the internet these past few days about Bey’s new video and its complex symbolism that for some reason is making people uncomfortable, which has me like:

There’s also been this weird prospect emerging that’s gaining an alarming amount of traction, which is, there’s a “new kind of black” person or idea. In my opinion, whenever I hear notions like this it just seems plain insulting. It’s like hearing, “But you’re not really black” or “I don’t consider you black.” It’s an insinuation that there is some kind of definition of what it means to be black, as if it’s “different” to challenge the status quo. It’s time to turn this tedious, parochial idea that has plagued what it means to be black for centuries on its head. There is no such thing as a “new kind of blackness or black person.” There is finally an acceptance of the fact that blackness means an infinite amount of things, because people can’t be one dimensional even if they tried. Yes, even you Stacey Dash are not just a scary testament of self-hatred.

I think Bey’s new video is so refreshing because it’s devoid of the fake, overly produced, annoyingly flashy music video, but is a celebration, embracing culture- black culture-and critiquing society in a way the mainstream hasn’t seen before. It’s not often, these days, a star of her caliber throws caution to the wind to examine the shortcomings of our current social climate and takes an obvious stand on racial, controversial issues.

There have been scores of historical and contemporary figures who have used their talents or their clout to discuss what it means to be black in a way that is beyond the monochromatic language associated with conversations about race. Whenever I think about race I always think of this person. One of my favorite human beings who has written countless essays on the subject and continues to inspire me beyond the grave. Of course, it is the incomparable James Baldwin.

Baldwin also celebrated black culture in his writing and made me want to be a writer because of the way he used the very language that created such strong rhetoric for oppression and hate, but transformed it into a beautifully complex narrative that is non-apologetic and has an uncanny demand for respect. He writes in a way I have yet to find anywhere else. His command of language, the grace of his candor- he’s a timeless mind that doesn’t get nearly enough attention, but this is not surprising, just disappointing.

Anyway, I digress. The entire point of this post is to point out this celebration of blackness by a black woman and how seeing a video in this context is a game changer. Baldwin speaks almost (ALMOST) ad nauseam about the way black people are perceived and the serious issues that lie in needing approval by the very people who refuse to see you as anything but what they perceive you to be. In a society that is constantly chipping away at the self-esteem of black men and women so painstakingly built on a history where our ancestors were subjected to atrocities and horrors that are unspeakable, unthinkable, this music video cut through all of that bullshit and celebrated black culture.

In other (more boring) news, it’s Black History month and every year I swear the same five figures are plastered all over everything. I’m not saying these five people are not important, it’s just frustrating that there is very little done to showcase more than the “first black (insert insane profession here that confirms that racism is rampant)” or uncover black individuals who have had a tremendous hand in building modern society. It’s one of the most insulting times of year, because it’s the shortest month and, in schools, it’s a lazy testament of how little this country cares to actually face racism. I GUESS this list is a start.  

Black history is intrinsically tied with American history, but this pointed distinction each year that because of the discrepancy in curriculum… and America culture(?) there is still a need for this month because this history would otherwise be ignored. That to me is the biggest issue - this annual reassurance that things have not changed. And if you’re one of those lunatics who thinks we should “be grateful you get an entire month, because if there was a white history month everyone would be mad,” I’m not sure who you are or on what planet you’re existing but the ignorance of statements like that are what make my blood boil and put me into an all-encompassing rage. Black history should be taught throughout the year, because it’s not like it happened in a vacuum, divorced from the reality in which it was occurring, on some third dimensional plane. It takes effort to separate out Black History from the history of this country and I like to call that effort, racism.

So, it was nice to feel those same feelings of pride while watching that Beyoncé video and seeing a part of me, various aspects of blackness, be given this insurmountable glory, this infectious glamor, this fistful of motivation, this long needed affirmation using imagery that is so inherently within the context of black culture that’s been glaringly missing from mainstream media. 

Plus, nobody has pull like Bey.

And nobody will ever be able to get down like Baldwin.

I’m out.

Open Letter To African American Kids... er, Black Kids.

Dear Black Kids,

I’m going to follow this irritating trend I’ve been seeing with celebrities writing these boring open letters about vapid, stupid things like Miley Cyrus’s future/well-being. I want to write a letter to African American kids argh, people of slave decent that live in this country and anyone of color really who is constantly subjected to prejudicial standards, constantly told they are to be a certain way or suffer the dire consequences of being ostracized and ridiculed. You are not alone.

Let me tell you an anecdotal tale of ignorance that has stuck with me for years. Don’t worry it’s not in the bad way where I think about it every night before I go to bed, tearful and broken down, begging for some kind of solace in solitude. I don’t rock back and forth in the dark praying for this experience to disappear from my brain matter forever. It actually makes me kind of sad and a little bit angry, which does nothing but drive me to be as me as possible.

It was a late night after dance class. My friend’s mom picked us up and we could barely contain our excitement in the back seat of the car for we were on our way to see the SpiceWorld. We excitedly chatted in the back about our favorite spice girls (Scary was mine and Sporty was hers - the best two if you ask me). Mid-conversation her mother turned around and said to me, “You speak so well. You sound just like a white girl.” I was stunned. My ten-year old self knew what she was saying sounded inherently wrong because I didn’t understand what “speaking white” meant let alone the fact she was insinuating black people were not allowed to speak a certain way. Now, let me clear something else up since we’re on the topic of vernacular. This is another lesson I had to learn thanks to mainstream media and a heap of other prejudices I embarrassingly collected, unknowingly, over the years. The way you speak does not define you. This is maybe one of the most important lessons that are never taught. It doesn’t matter what words you use to express yourself they are not in direct correlation with intellect, compassion, empathy, passion, etc. How you speak is merely something taught. No one should feel they need to speak a certain way to fit in or be comfortable in this country. People DO need to heed their personal issues with race and language and not be judgey assholes like I once was and I’m not going to lie, sometimes, still am. I try to check myself as often as possible to remind myself not to fall into the man-eating trap of racism and stereotyping. Anyway, that comment was the first of many I would endure over the course of eight years from middle school all the way through high school.

This letter is for those black kids who were/are called “white” because of how they speak, dress, the music they listen to, the movies they like. This letter is for the black kids who want to break out of these ridiculous stereotypes and represent themselves instead of an ideal perpetuated and almost mandated by this now secretly racist society. Don’t be daft. Racism has not ceased to exist because there is a black president, au contraire it has become more clandestine, more cunning and exposes itself oh so subtlety in the underrepresented models of color, in the exoticized black character in sitcoms and dramas, in the “she/he looks good for a black woman/man” comments among scores of others.

This letter is for those black kids who so desperately want to be something more than their skin color. It’s for those kids who will never forget where they came from but are ready to move forward to where they want to be. This letter is to explain that there is no one in this world who is allowed to tell you who you are except for you. This letter is a plea to society to back the hell up off these racial constructs that have done nothing but harm and divide a nation that is in need of major healing.

A lot has changed since I was a kid. This whole “natural hair phenomenon” alone is enough to make my head spin. It’s fantastic! However, it is a baby step in the right direction. Tyler Perry movies still exist so movement will always be a bit stunted, in my opinion. The rage he incites in me is unparalleled. I digress.

In conclusion, be you. You are beautiful no matter what they say. Yes, I just used a Christina Aguilera lyric, but it is true. No matter what anyone says you are beautiful. You just have to believe it. No one can have any power over you unless you let them. Ok, yeah, that was Eleanor Roosevelt. Again, it’s true. No one is allowed to tell you who you are.

I will close this letter with a quote from the late Amiri Baraka,

“There’s no intrinsic value of being black; there’s no intrinsic value of being white. It’s a fake concept, but certainly I’ve…been oppressed by it all my life.”

Don’t let these concepts oppress you.

Love from the moon and back again,

Christina