Half-white & Half-black
Do I still Get to Talk about Racism?
“You’re only half-black. Why do you care so much about racism?”
A friend once said that to me. We argued for a while; I got over it. But it made me dig deeper into how white folks perceive mixed-race people.
In some scenarios, mixed-race people are not given full recognition by either of our cultures, which, as I’ve mentioned in the past, can leave our identities a little disjointed, especially when young.
Although it’s not the focus of this article, I think it’s important to note that before certain watershed events in the last year or so, people of colour were combatting racism the world over. Yet, something I have picked up on recently is a greater focus on who, specifically, is entitled to speak out on issues of race.
Several times, I have come across the belief that light-skinned people aren’t qualified to be spokespeople where racism is concerned. While I agree that it is true to some extent that colourism has an impact on one’s experience of the world, I don’t, however, believe that this makes us less equipped to challenge people’s racist perspectives.
Depending on one’s preconceived bias, there is a tendency to assume that all light-skinned people have an easier life than their darker friends. But the crux of this matter lies in one’s community. On an unusual number of occasions, I’ve spoken with black people in the UK who assert that the country is not racist. Isn’t that strange, when light-skinned folks like myself have experienced something different?
When I used to attend church, people’s opinions towards white Britain were quite varied. What surprised me was that so many I spoke to often acted a trifle clueless when racism was brought up. Those, like myself, who’d lived most of their life in the north of England were woefully familiar with racism.
Yet there were some, who I considered well-educated and of a similar age to me, who saw the UK as a land of opportunities, unhindered by race. Perhaps they were just blessed and highly favoured, unlike me, who was constantly hiding my authentic self — a bit of a backslider, in the words of my old pastor.
To be sure, there was undeniable truth to their words: the UK is a land of immense opportunity. I can say with confidence that there is no other country I’d rather have been born in. Despite my deep love and admiration for the other countries I’ve visited, I know where home is, even if it’s pretty racist.
But do I really get to put my hand up and say that? Some people want to decide that for me. Now that it’s ‘popular’ for people to show their solidarity with POCs (despite not knowing any), colourism is being talked about more and more. The world wants to know who to put in which box, and who fits best where.
The way I see it, my mixed-race identity confers advantages just as easily as it confers disadvantages. When people have racially insulted me, they didn’t hold back because I was a few shades darker than others, nor did it mean that they held their punches. When people referred to me as the ‘n word’, they didn’t say ‘half-n*****’.
With that in mind, being light-skinned is only relevant in certain situations. If someone has a problem with non-white folk, it doesn’t always matter how dark you actually are: that person is going to let you know how they feel about you regardless of complexion, whether with their voice or their fist.
In the recent BBC documentary Race, Pop & Power featuring Little Mix star Leigh-Anne Pinnock, the singer draws attention to the fact that she felt unable to embody what black people wanted in a spokesperson on account of her light-skin. Some, it seemed, would much rather have a dark-skinned person speaking out against issues of racial injustice. What really irked me when hearing that was the fact that in pretty much every other situation, she was denigrated for being the ‘token black girl’ of the band. Too white for blacks, too black for whites.
Thinking back to my own experiences again, and knowing many dark-skinned people (not just in the UK, but also from other European countries) who believe that they haven’t been particularly affected by racism, it’s quite mystifying that mixed-race / light-skinned folks can be regarded with apprehension in this debate.
Racism is not actually something that all people of colour are intimate with, and it comes in varying degrees of intensity for all of us. Some may have been lucky enough to only recollect a couple of bad experiences, others live with racism every single day. Where you’re from and how you choose to live your life is what really affects how you perceive this issue.
Personally, I’ve never not been aware of the fact that most rooms I walk into, I can count the black people on one hand. I’m constantly thinking about the fact that I’m not white and that this can influence everything I do on a given day.
And so, going back to my opening quote, you can see why I was annoyed by that comment. When it suits people for argument’s sake, being light-skinned falls neatly into the colourism debate whereby I ought to feel distanced from issues that affect black people, and in some cases, not really even black.
Shocking as it may seem, on some rarer occasions I’ve even had people making racist jokes about black people in my presence assuming that they wouldn’t offend me.
The thing that always helps me to know where I stand in this situation, regardless of what anyone else thinks, is that I may know myself to have mixed heritage, but there’s only one of those identities I can realistically claim in everyday life. Could you imagine if I started walking around saying that I was white?
It’s either mixed-race, or black. To claim whiteness would be inconceivable in society’s eyes because as the status quo goes, that would be claiming power that I, as someone with a black mum, don’t deserve. Although I recognise my privileged status thanks to a stellar education, most of the benefits that come with being white are, unexpectedly, reserved for white people.
In the past, before it was woke to be black, I was often asked if I felt closer to one side or the other. I always hated that question. There have been times where I’ve felt disconnected from both of my cultures and really struggled to make sense of who I am, but nowadays, I’m a lot more confident in my own skin. Steadily, my existence straddles a dimension where both of my ethnicities overlap without one diluting the other.
In sum, there’s always more that we can do, whether white or POC, to raise awareness about issues in our community or in the world when it comes to race. And everyone’s voice matters in this movement. Authenticity is amazing and brings so much more credibility and power to one’s voice; I know that my own mum and people of her generation know racism on a far more severe level than I do.
But I still think that my voice has a place in this argument, irrespective of my complexion or where I grew up. We are all constantly trying to connect with ourselves and our environment on a deeper level. In times that change as quickly as these, we need to be making our embrace wider and more inclusive. Everyone is invited to speak up and stand against oppression, and although people’s roles may differ in this battle, our voices are equally important.
– —
