Black, but by whose standard?

I should start this by providing some context as to how I grew up. I was born in Saudi Arabia (Al-Baha) in February 2000, however my time there was short-lived. In 2001, my father, a doctor, was offered a job working for the NHS and we relocated to Hull, England. I’ve often asked my parents “why Hull?” Sometimes out of anger, often genuine curiosity, and I’ve come to understand and accept it was simply where he was offered to work, nothing more. At the time, they were just happy to be in the UK.

I was lucky in that my parents valued the importance of a good education, and with that, sought out a private education in the area. This, however, meant growing up around a lot of white kids. Part of growing up in white spaces is you learn very early on how to act in different situations, including code-switching. I remember when I was younger, my skin was often met with fascination. Questions like “Do you still get sunburned?” Things like this, I look back on and laugh, you can chalk it down to kids being naive.

However, as you get older, the jokes become more commonplace, and more problematic. White kids love to test you, and if you have thin skin, you’ll have an awful time, simple as that. My experience ranged from the harmless microaggressions, such as constantly being told by teachers and parents how “well-spoken” I am, something I’m sure no white kid has ever been told. To the more serious instances of racism, which I always took as people exposing themselves, especially when it was received from “friends” calling me the N-word (hard er) or “Monkey boy” (yes, really). These outbursts were more representative of the characters of the perpetrators than mine, and I always saw it that way.

There’s a reluctance to retaliate, people are looking for any reason to label you as aggressive. One thing I always struggled to contend with, however, was people questioning my blackness, this maybe being because I am more subdued and laid back in my demeanour, which obviously conflicted with the representations they were picking up in the media at the time. I would often be referred to as “acting white”, this, however, would be in very specific situations and speaks to a wider conversation about white privilege. I say this because after moving on to university and seemingly escaping these small-minded comments, I was back home in December, attending a fundraiser for a good friend who passed away in 2021, whilst there, in black tie, someone came up to me and said “don’t take this the wrong way, but you’re really white” as if there is a correct way to take it. I’ve noticed that these instances come about when I would be enjoying a glass of wine for example, or at a nice restaurant, all things these people obviously associate with whiteness. This is a dangerous standpoint to take for a number of reasons.

The idea that I should have to meet a checklist or set criteria of character traits or mannerisms in order to qualify or earn my blackness is always one I’ve rejected wholeheartedly. If I get stopped and searched in the street, do you think the officer cares where I grew up, or how I spend my free time? In the eyes of society, I’m just the same as your favourite rapper, in that situation we’re both worried about the exact same things. I’ve always refused to twerk for anyone, or pander to anyone’s stereotypes about how they think I need to act in order to be black enough for them.

Donald Glover put it perfectly when he said that whiteness is blankness, in that it’s a blank slate. When you’re white you can be anything, there are no prejudices or pre conceived notions. When you’re black people try to add things to it, because there’s not a lot of us, so you’ll find yourself constantly being compared to the tiny number of black people they know, or what they see on instagram. What i found contradictory about my own experience however is that over time, having joined at 8 years old, you learn to build up layers, and hide the best parts of yourself to minimise attention and subsequently abuse, this is advised against long term as there is a risk of losing your sense of self. It’s not healthy, but it’s a survival mechanism. The side of myself that might qualify me in their eyes i didn’t feel they deserved to see, for fear of being ‘tokenised’, in reality they just want more reasons to test you.

I recently read about a woman named Sarah Rector. Born in 1902 in Oklahoma, the child of African descendants of the Creek Indians before the Civil war, which became part of the Muscogee creek nation after the Treaty of 1866. as such she was listed as a freedwoman and entitled to land allotments by the United States.

Rector was given 160 acres of land, 60 miles from where her and her family lived, it was considered infertile soil, not suitable for farming, with the better land being reserved for white settlers and tribe members.

The $30 annual property tax on the land however was such a heavy burden on the family that her dad tried to petition the court to sell the land, a petition that was ultimately denied, leaving them still liable for the taxes. To help with this, in 1911 he leased her land to the Standard Oil Company, and in 1913 a well was drilled which produced a ‘gusher’ that began to bring in 2500 barrels of oil a day, A strike that saw Rector begin to receive $300 in daily income. In October 1913, aged just 11, she revived royalties of $11,567, which led to pressure to change her guardianship from her parents to a local white resident. Given her new found wealth, in 1913 the Oklahoma legislature made an effort to have her declared white, making her better able to reap the rewards of her new social standing.

I say all this to say, the idea of affluence and blackness being mutually exclusive isn’t a new one, it’s an idea ultimately rooted in prejudice, and needing to see us as less than. Which i imagine is harder for someone to do as I’m sat next to them in the Ivy.

I’ve always fought to be myself, as that’s all i can be, and all i want to be. and leaving these spaces I’m unlearning a lot of the coping mechanisms i picked up over the years, giving me space to explore parts of myself i neglected in the past, this however doesn’t mean changing myself, or what i like, but rather delving deeper into those interests.

In conclusion, growing up in a predominantly white community and navigating the complexities of code-switching and microaggressions was not always easy. However, I’ve learned to take these experiences in stride and not let them define me. I refuse to meet the checklist or set criteria of character traits or mannerisms that some may have of what it means to be “black enough”. As Gambino put it, whiteness is blankness, and blackness should be too. It’s important for society to recognize and address these issues, and for those who hold these beliefs to check themselves. Those on the receiving end should remember to not let these experiences define them. You’re always in control of the narrative