AfroLA’s leader reflects upon gatekeeping Blackness and widening the lens toward inclusivity.
By Dana Amihere
I was recently asked to be a part of a podcast episode on interracial relationships. The show, Slate’s How To, is hosted by Amanda Ripley, one of my solutions journalism heroes. I was excited because my episode was hosted by my friend, AfroLA supporter and SoJo pro Hélène Biandudi Hofer. I was more excited because it was an opportunity to be in conversation with two other Black women married to white men. They understand when occasionally there are disagreements with your partner over race. They have lived through some of the same challenges. This was valuable for me not only personally, but professionally, too.
Listen to the episode, How To Be Yourself in an Interracial Relationship, here.
When AfroLA was publicly announced in April, I was elated. The kudos and encouragement from friends, family, industry colleagues and strangers who champion the same racial justice issues I do was overwhelming. It validated the months of planning and work that had led up to that point. But, as with anything presented on social media, there were detractors.
(These are real comments from AfroLA’s social media channels and on detractors’ social feeds post-launch. A few have since been removed. I’m purposefully not naming anyone or linking to these comments because they don’t deserve to be amplified. The original comments’ text is bolded with my response underneath.)
“Colonizer. Gentrifier.”
Ouch, but I can see how you might feel that way.
“You can’t speak for a community you don’t represent.”
Well, who can? If I’m not ‘Black enough’ and not ‘L.A. enough’ to do this work, who is? And, why do you get to decide who is?
“Black lady transplant trying to imitate [name of Black outlet omitted]. This is exploiting Black communities in L.A for the usual ‘career boost’.”
Nope, nope, nope. Like 46.7% of Angelenos, I wasn’t born in California. I was born and raised in central Florida. But, I’m a tax-paying homeowner who chose to live in a community 20 miles away from my old job so that I could live and raise my kids around neighbors who are majority Black people. As for a “career boost,” I’m starting AfroLA from the ground up with nothing — no millions in philanthropic funding, no salaried full-time staff, no office space. I didn’t get into journalism to be rich (ha!), and I have yet to draw a paycheck from this work.
“Your ‘news’ outlet is branding itself as ‘Unapologetic’ & ‘Black’ when having a White spouse would make a conflict of interest to that.”
Hold up, now…so I can’t be “unapologetically Black” because of who I chose to love and marry? Take a row of seats, ma’am. _/ _/ _/ _/ _/ _/ _/ _/ _/ _/ _/ _/ (This comment was ironically made by someone who describes themselves as biracial…)
“Don’t bring home a white boy…”
I will never say that being a proud Black woman from the South married to a lovely white man from a corner of Kansas is easy. It has never been and never will be easy. As Hélène highlights in the podcast, this year marks 50 years since the Loving v. Virginia decision that struck down states’ bans on interracial marriage. In 1958, nine years before the Loving decision, only 4% of Americans approved of interracial marriage; in 2021, that number was 94%. But, that doesn’t mean there aren’t still challenges we must confront each day.
The third Black woman who participated in the podcast discussion was Karyn Langhorne Folan, author of Don’t Bring Home a White Boy: And Other Notions that Keep Black Women From Dating Out.
“Am I allowed to do this? Is this the right thing? Am I a traitor to the race? Am I doing something that is jeopardizing the culture that I love? I mean, it doesn’t make me any less African-American, any less of a black woman. I’m very proud of that identity.”
When Karyn said this, I felt like she could’ve been talking about my critical experiences with AfroLA instead of what it feels like to share your life with someone of a different culture. To me, the bottom line in either scenario is the same: I am who I am. I choose to love someone different than me, and that makes my life complicated. But my skin, my heart isn’t any less Black because I did so.
Those who oppose me and my role in AfroLA are laser-focused on Blackness as a monolith. They’re self-appointed gatekeepers of who can be Black and what is Black. AfroLA is the antithesis of that thinking.
“Some of our racial comfort is we all need to become a heck of a lot more comfortable with each other. We need more shared experiences.” –Karyn Langhorne Folan
AfroLA is grounded in intersectionality and widening the lens of who and what is considered “Black enough,” especially in one of America’s most diverse cities. It’s a chance to embrace intersectionality, immigration, interracial relationships and changing understandings of gender and sexual identity. It’s even why we’re a solutions journalism newsroom. SoJo is contextualizing, finding nuances, presenting multiple perspectives of an issue to help people understand the implications and impact of that issue. (To me, it’s what journalism should be in the first place, not a subset of it, but I digress…)
My critics are right. Yes, I’m an “outsider.” But, perhaps if they widen their lens to understand AfroLA, they might understand that I’m new and different, but I’m interested in collaboration, not takeover. There’s enough room for all of us in local news that serves the Black community to exist with plenty of space to stretch out and maintain autonomy. We can all eat, y’all.
Here’s a few things I want these folks, and everyone else to know:
- “Outsiders” can be helpful to see issues from a perspective that people living with them have become numb to over time.
- But, some stories are best told by community “insiders” who aren’t looking in. (This is why parachute journalism is so harmful.) It’s why AfroLA’s editorial strategy relies upon content by community contributors. They can tell stories the community already values and cares about — because they’re from the community — as opposed to what us from the outside think is important to them.
- Someone who isn’t “Black enough” or “L.A. enough,” can (and will) successfully lead this venture without pushing an agenda that is “corporate” or with a “gentrification” or “colonization” mindset.
- I’m invested in the community for no self-serving reason and have made myself and my family a part of it, with no plans to leave.
Hélène closed out the show with something her parents told her growing up. It really sums up how I feel about my marriage and about AfroLA:
“What we’ve got is something special. Doesn’t make it easy. It doesn’t mean everyone will accept it. But, what do we care? It’s ours. And it’s sacred.”
AfroLA officially launches in early 2023, but we’ve already started producing quality journalism for L.A.’s Black community.
- Explore the archive of AfroLA’s pre-launch stories.
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Dana Amihere is a data journalist, designer and developer. She’s the founder/executive director of AfroLA. She’s committed to solutions reporting that centers racial and social justice, especially through data-driven storytelling.
Previously, Amihere worked in data, interactive design and news apps for KPCC/LAist, The Dallas Morning News, Pew Research Center and The Baltimore Sun. She owns Code Black Media, a digital media and data consultancy. She is a lecturer at UC Berkeley’s Graduate School of Journalism.
