“You’re so white.”
It’s amazing how one sentence, three simple words that on their own mean next to nothing, can be so profound and eye-opening when strung together in such a way. This one simple, but oftentimes offensive, sentence is one that I have heard many times over my thirty-one young years. Now, I am very proud of my background and culture. I love that I have strived to become educated and continue to do so, despite multiple hardships. I admire that I carry myself with respect, dignity, and class. Above all, I relish my achievements; against everybody’s unwelcome but freely spoken disparagements, I have overcome and I have achieved more than anybody at one point thought was possible for me to do. But, maybe in spite of all of my accomplishments … I am not white!
I am black, but I will leave that alone for now.
So, I refer back to the GhettoNation book discussion that I wrote about before. As I was watching this discussion, one person in the audience started talking about how she has to “dumb down” between work and home because her “peeps” thinks she acts too “white.” When the author provoked her more, the young lady in the audience explained that at work, she is very cheerful, energetic, and willing to help out when needed. At home, she feels like she has to behave in a certain manner in order to be accepted. If she says hello to a passerby, her friends look at her sideways. If she reads a book that is not perceived as a “black book,” then she is questioned. The young lady continued by saying that in order to fit in, she just changes her persona: she is one person at work and a totally different person at home, a challenge that she is not sure she is up to continuing.
I can empathize with this young lady. I know exactly what she is going though, how she feels, and the struggles she still has left to endure. I have had to live with the same issues and accusations my whole life as well. I still continue to fight with the demons of my acceptance. Watching this discussion and hearing this young lady talk about her desire to fit in and be accepted by her own people got me thinking, exactly what is “acting white” and “acting black” what does “dumbing down” mean? I mean, as professional black individuals, do we really have to “dumb down” in order to be recognized by our black counterparts?
I will be the first to admit that I am completely, without a question, guilty of this. I am very refined, professional, and almost bourgeois when I am at work. I laugh and smile at the corny jokes, I wear the “uniform”… muted colors, casual yet preppy, not-quite-so-dressed-up look, and I put that high … almost squeaky, inflection in my words that gives an essence of pertness and vigor. All this “fakeness” helps me to fit in at work, a world where I am successful and coveted for my experience and knowledge. When I am around my friends, I chill a bit more. There is more slouch in my posture, more slang in my vocabulary, and, in general, just a bit more ruggedness in my overall demeanor. I bump my music as onlookers bob their heads, I speak in the vernacular of the streets, even though I fight to stay current with the ever-changing, and even more confusing, slang of the week. No matter which situation I’m faced with, I struggle to fit in … always on the edge of being discovered and portrayed as the fraud I am. The little mixed-breed mulatto searching for acceptance.
Back to the discussion: Cora Daniels asked that young lady in her audience where she felt more comfortable: at work or at home. Without so much as a blink of her eye, the young lady stated, “At home.”
