disenchanted

A woman told me today that I wasn't actually "privy to the black experience" because my skin happens to be white. I suppose, that on a certain complexly confusing level, I would be inclined to agree, but I'm not a person that believes that there truly is such a thing as "the" black experience. Yes, there are vast quantities of similarities between the experiences of the great majority of black people in this country - some which I have been "privy" to and some which I have not - but not everyone has had the exact same experience. There are times when my white skin has opened the door for discrimination from other black folk, and other times when the complete oposite has been true. Even though I don't appear to be a very sensitive girl, and I really don't let many things get under my skin, this kinda shit bothers me. It's fine that I'm not "good enough" to be black in that woman's opinion, but I know from experience that she's not alone in her beliefs.
In the past, I've been told that I really shouldn't refer to myself as a black woman, not only because I happen to have a white mother, which makes me less than black right off the bat, but because I happen to fall at the absolute lightest end of the skin tone spectrum, I'm not really allowed. I've never shared this with any of the people that have anointed me with similar sentiments, but I always think, "try and stop me." It's not as though I had a choice on which skin tone I'd get, and if being black were simply a case of hue, there would be an enormous shuffle of identites on this planet. I am so much more than my skin, dag gummit.


It stings to be told these kinds of things, but just for a moment. She only makes herself unworthy of my company with beliefs like that. Her loss.

Yeah, and I could totally get a tan, or something, but I don't even like the sun all that much and orange just isn't a good color for me.