Tag: blackness

  • Wakanda Woman do you really want?

    Wakanda Woman do you really want?

    #Wakandaforever and ever and ever.   đź™…đźŹľ  Seriously.

    Short caveat before providing a minor critique of the response to the Black Panther movie. ~ Black Panther was such a substantive movie.  I REALLY enjoyed it and have begun to think about how I can live in such a way that Wakanda can move beyond a figment of my imagination. I’m re-imagining how I can participate in creating a world where black and brown people of the diaspora know their worth, are proud of their ethnicity, freely celebrate their culture, and have the skills necessary to drive innovation in technology.

    Caveat over.  đź™…đźŹż

    Men, I need to talk to y’all.  Especially black men.  I need answers.  Stat! Maybe you’ll shine some light so that I can cast less shade, because I have plenty to throw right now.

    Never have I seen black women who are bald or have short hair and darker skin praised for their beauty AND strength by…black men.  Black men have praised plenty of black women that have long, straight (or minimally kinky) hair, with lighter skin as beautiful. This type of praise is unconventional in the American black culture.  However, since Black Panther so brilliantly displayed women with such phenotypical features, they pretty much have gained goddess status.  Bruhs are like… “Nakia, Okoye, and Shuri, are my new standard for beauty…”  As a woman of dark skin who’s not always experienced this type of affirmation from black men, I appreciate that! My contention is with the “new-found way in which you’ve presumably embraced my strength as well.

    20180130_03_SHOT3_0040_C.JPG
    Letitia Wright, Lupita Nyong’o, Angela Bassett and Dania Gurira photographed exclusively for Entertainment Weekly by Koury Angelo is Los Angeles on January 30th 2018 photographed exclusively for Entertainment Weekly by Koury Angelo is Los Angeles on January 30th 2018

    STRONG BLACK WOMAN – not new, so let’s not treat it as such

    While Wakanda itself is a fictional place in Africa, the Dora Milaje Warriors of Wakanda are not.  Arica L. Coleman, of Time, recently wrote an article, “There’s a True Story Behind Black Panther’s Strong Women.  Here’s Why that Matters” that provides historical context.  Many black women are unofficially given the title of “strong black woman” and it carries with it unbelievable weight, often to the detriment of emotional, physical, and spiritual health.   Peep this book from Dr. Chanequa Walker-Barnes, Too Heavy a Yoke: Black Women and the Burden of Strength, if you desire some freedom here. This is not the strength that beams from my sistahs on the screen of Black Panther.  It is not the strength that simply ignores pain.  Not the strength that forsakes self-care for the care of everyone else in their tribe.  These women are physically and intellectually strong.  They are beautifully portrayed as women whose strengths are not seen as a threat, but as an additional weapon in the protection of a nation they all love.  Think asset not liability.

    Here’s why I’m salty.  I’m salty because my social media news feed has been full of posts and comments from black men that are practically giddy with the portrayal of women in this movie.  Especially commenting on their strength and beauty.  Well, guys, there seems to be a contradiction in what your social media post say and what I’ve experienced in life as a real-life Dora Milaje woman.  Yep, self proclaimed Milaje woman.  Here’s what’s been communicated directly and indirectly to me by men as a strong black woman:

    Your strength is intimidating, so tone it down and don’t have too many thoughts on the issue. 

    Be anything but assertive in the presence of men.  Too much sauce is too much sauce.  Minimize your intelligence at those times. 

    You are so much more beautiful if you have hair extensions that make your hair straight or very long.

    Regardless of your education and experience, your voice is always less valuable than any man in the room.

    Your dark skin is exotic.  You are not beautiful enough to be pursued in relationship, only observed.

    The list could continue, but the point is not to be exhaustive, but to challenge this notion that black men really do find the Dora Milaje warriors, Nakia, Queen Ramonda, and Okoye attractive with all of their strengths.   As a friend and I discussed the movie, she brought out the perspective that because T’Challa’s black panther suit was brilliantly designed to absorb kinetic energy with each bullet fired at him and later reused in his own defense, she often wanted him to take “more hits” so that his defense would be even stronger.  Such an interesting concept with parallels to black men across the diaspora.  Black men have been taking hits for a long time.  They’ve had a shield that absorbed a lot of the blows for them; the black woman.  Black women are still absorbing daily blows for black men.

    As we close out another Black History Month and a month that celebrates love, I ask men again, Wakanda woman do you really want? Many of you already have women with the strength of the Dora Milaje warriors as family members, colleagues, and friends.  Hug these women.  Protect these women.  Walk through healing with these women.  Help facilitate the dreams and gifts within these women.  Love those women. #InWakanda, strength is only a threat to the enemy, not family. We are all family in the African diaspora.

    After Wakanda, it appears I no longer must choose between beauty and strength.  As a dark-skinned woman with thick kinky hair, it’s always been one or the other.  Men, I hope my real-life experience begins to match what’s on your social media feed. I hope to see board room dynamics change.  I hope to see many of my beautiful and educated, black friends change their status from “single” to “in a relationship” this year.  I hope they will no longer be despised for their strength, but fully loved amid it.  Brothers, if there was ever a time to shoot your shot, it’s now.   Maybe elements of Wakanda will become a reality sooner rather than later…

    “Gender roles and strength don’t counter each other at all.” –

    Thought on Black Panther from Michelle Higgins of Truth’s Table

  • Am I Black?

    Am I Black?

    20150611_123830“Am I Black?”  This question has echoed in my mind since it was so loudly projected from the mouth of a little boy (approximately 5 years old) to his parents as he sat with them and watched a portion of a video about the middle passage at The Griot Museum of Black Historyin St. Louis, MO.  The innocence and complexity of his question is what wrenches my heart.  In this beautiful world, it would be great if slavery never existed and if African American parents and those of other ethnicities never had to share with their kids the atrocity of their nation’s past.  In particular, their decision to treat certain people inhumanely.  This little boy could not understand why, in his own words, “only black people were treated this way…”  He actually asked his parents, “where are the white people?”  His mind could not process the reasoning behind the variation in treatment.  They spoke honestly and with lots of grace; not with malice or slander, but with love for their son and his tender, impressionable mind.  I am not a parent, but I commend these parents for walking gingerly with their son to help him understand his history and the importance of valuing all human life.  This indeed was one of the most precious moments I’ve experienced recently in our racially charged society that wants to dismiss the impact of years of oppression on people groups.

    For the past few days I have juxtaposed this little boy’s simple question with the recent events in Orlando, from the #PulseShooting to the shooting of #ChristinaGrimmie.  I love the city of #Orlando and I’ve been grieving with those in my hometown.  My community and people that I love and know are hurting deeply. We cannot understand the senseless act of these shootings.

     The beauty I beheld as this little boy asked this question was profound. You see, he didn’t “know” he was black because his experience as a little black boy was just as it should be.  He has not yet known what it is to be treated differently because of his skin color.  I am not sure that I want to wake him up from this dream.

    As a follower of Christ, I believe the church is called to make this child’s “ideal perspective” more of a reality, but we have to first deal with the sin in our own heart.  The reality that we just may be treating people differently because of their skin color.  Sunday is still a very segregated day in our nation.  The reality that we, the church, may be choosing not to get to know people because their lifestyle(s) don’t align with our beliefs.

    People are more than their ethnicity.  They are more than their sexual identity.  Oh that we would learn to live and love one another as people.  Not as pretentious, external, superficial, descriptors such as race, gender, and economic status.  This week in the wake of the Orlando tragedies I believe I was granted a gift from God to spend time in Colorado with a couple who co-founded a non-profit, which is making a difference in the lives of children who are aging out of foster care.  The gift for me was that although I “knew I was Black” in Colorado, I didn’t “feel” Black when spending time with their family.  I held tightly to this feeling because it was refreshing.  Typically, “feeling Black” when I am the minority means that I am treated as inferior and presumed weak.  To be in a community where I am clearly an ethnic minority (Colorado isn’t particularly racially diverse) and to be welcomed and loved as a person first, is a gift I treasure.  There might have been second glances from others as I sat around the table with this couple, their daughters, and a friend, at a local eatery, but at that table we laughed together and enjoyed each other’s company in earnest.  And although I am not their daughter, I felt protected by this couple in an incredibly beautiful way.  This was a dose of authentic love.

    If there was a gift that I could give to those who’ve experienced marginalization, it would be the gift of authentic love. To authentically love allows us to accept people as a part of God’s beautiful creation.  There is no doubt today that I am proud to be black.  But if I am honest, I have had to fight for this freedom of pride in my ethnicity, namely the darkness of my skin and kinkiness of my hair and all that I’ve been told that this represents in our western society.  What I have recognized recently is that fighting for freedom of an insecurity can be costly.  It can mean rejection from those that love you.  It can mean career assassination.   It can mean depression and sleepless nights.  I do not presume to understand the fight of those who are in the LGBTQ community.  What I do know is that I would like for #America and at times, those in the church, to stop making presumptions about their character and worth because of their sexual identity alone.  This is nonsensical.  Seriously.  We are people first.  Let’s treat each other as such.

    I grieve with all of the families whose loved ones lost their life during this tragedy.  I grieve with those in the LGBTQ community who feel the palatable weight of being targeted because of their sexuality.  I grieve with the family members of the shooter who may now be treated differently because of what he did.  I grieve for the christian church who has yet to learn that we all share a mutual brokenness as people; we are all in need of a Savior (Jesus Christ). Those who are black are in need. Those who are white.  Those who are heterosexual.  Those who are homosexual.  Those who are wealthy.  Those who are poor.  Those who are human are in need.  As we have a greater understanding of this need, we will lower our personal pedestals and stand together as people.

    “Be happy with those who are happy, and weep with those who weep.”  Romans 12:15