Much Deeper Than Being Black…
10 Ways to Rise Above Cultural Bias
I knocked a girl across a chain-link fence who tried to bully me along with her older friends.
I had to fight an older boy who knocked my head against a concrete wall.
I was told by my big sister, who was my babysitter while our parents worked if I didn’t fight back, she was going to whip me, which is why I fought back with a vengeance.
Eventually, my big sister, who was pregnant defended me. She stood up against a boy who was going to attack her with a bicycle frame. The guy was a teenager and I had just turned eight.
These are true encounters along with slurs and name-calling I received during my early years. Yes, some of it was bullying. But there was another reason why I was harassed.
Fast-forward into my adult years, there were several situations where I wasn’t bullied, but shunned and discriminated against because of the same reason I was picked on as a child.
A few years ago, I became a member of a newly-established church. The church started ministries and connection groups to allow members to get acquainted. I joined Saturday morning aerobics, which became more of a clique, which I initially denied since it was a Christian group — how wrong I was!
During the initial session, I was the first one there. I spoke to each lady as she arrived. As attendees continued to show-up, the organizers distanced themselves from me and became more interactive with the new arrivals. I ignored the distancing and maintained positive thoughts.
When we went inside, it became clear to me the organizers didn’t want me to participate. Since I never favored being where I’m not wanted, I left.
I sat in my car a moment before driving away to reflect on what had just happened. I thought about each woman, what she looked like, the type of car each lady owned, recalling what each wore to church when I would see them on Sundays. I thought about their occupations and where they worked.
I thought it’s a shame I had to go through the process of evaluation to understand the rejection.
Sadly, it didn’t matter that I dressed as they did, drove a nice car, or worked for a major pharmaceutical company like the rest of the group.
This comparison is only to demonstrate that we were all in the same socio-economic class; and that the playing field was level. I knew about their backgrounds from previous gatherings within the church, where I had also been excluded and rejected. I thought I would give it another shot and attend another get-together to confirm my theory.
When I joined the U.S. Air Force, three of my female military buddies and I arrived at our new duty station.
After a few days on base, we met three male soldiers we had seen in passing a few days prior. The guys engaged my buddies in small talk, while I stood to the side, with their backs facing me.
After my buddies briefly chatted with the guys, all six of them left as three couples. Again, I was left behind.
Generally, when there are friends, there’s usually enough matchmaking to go around for everyone. But not for me. The guys didn’t intend for me to be a part of their plan.
Even in marriage, my mother-in-law rejected me. Since she couldn’t get rid of me, she slung insults at me at every turn. But my husband, her son, was always there to defend me.
Kids on the playground taunted me, so I played alone. Throughout my life, rejections have been part of my existence, not that it was okay.
This brings me to the backstory of the rejection I received. I am African American. But the slurs in this piece go beyond and much deeper than being Black.
There’s a term I didn’t know existed, to describe the type of discrimination and rejection I received. Although I experienced it my entire life, I didn’t become aware of it until later in life.
The word is ‘colorism.’
Colorism is different from being discriminated against in America for being Black, which was the first level of discrimination I experienced.
Colorism is discrimination against an ethnic group by people of the same ethnicity. This type of discrimination is determined by the hue or tone of one’s skin, which I take a step further as the second level of discrimination I have endured throughout my life.
In plain and simple terms, colorism is the darker your skin tone, the less desirable and unattractive you are. Colorism also translates into less privilege, fewer opportunities, whether you get the job and lesser pay than someone in your ethnic group with a lighter hue to their skin.
Each case I’ve shared is my real personal experience. So, you might ask, if everyone in my exchanges is Black or a person of color, why the discrimination?
My skin is dark(er than everyone else’s).
In the case of the ladies in the aerobics class, they were medium-brown- to fair-skinned.
My military buddies had a lighter skin tone than me. I’ve experienced many snubs by guys because of my skin tone. Even today, I’m so conditioned that I brace for rejection when meeting a guy for the first time. Online dating has never been a positive experience.
As for my mother-in-law, she was fair-skinned with long, wavy, black hair, which she could brush down to her waistline. But I was too dark for her son. She had a fair-skinned, reddish-brown-haired, freckle-faced girl picked for him.
On the surface, it didn’t matter. But deep down, it did. Being shunned crushed me!
I could tell you endless stories of my personal experiences of existing in a society where I have every right to belong, yet, I was invisible.
Not only does colorism exist in the Black culture, but it exists within other ethnic groups.
For years, even as a child, it mattered. But, in many ways, I had not only dark skin but tough skin.
If I didn’t look the part, I couldn’t (by choice) and didn’t want to be a part, which was my resolve.
Yes, I picked my battles. Some things weren’t worth it. It took too much energy.
Slurs, slights, and name-calling such as “Black-burnt pancake face.” “Black-burnt biscuit.” “You’re dark, but you’re cute.” “She’s dark, but she dresses nice and she’s intelligent.”
These were the way others described me during childhood, teen years, and so-called ‘friends’ during my adult years, whose skin was much lighter than mine. The ‘friends’ thought they were giving me compliments, but it only demonstrated their ignorance.
I realized when I became an adult, why I was a loner, shy, and always needing my own space. Being shunned had manifested in ways I began to understand, which shaped me, in part, into who I am today.
During my lifetime, I’ve taken rejections and moved-on, where I saw a path. I may have been invisible to many, but I’ve always made myself apparent where I made a difference. I’ve always believed I was born with a purpose.
I want to share ten positive affirmations, attitudes, and actions you can adopt to navigate, ignore, and practice to rise above the bias of colorism to live YOUR purpose:
Ways to avoid colorism from consuming you:
1. Realize YOU have value.
2. Repeat daily “I have self-worth — yes, I DO MATTER.”
3. Think of your importance to those who love you, being part of a family, the things you do, YOUR contribution to society.
4. YOUR existence is meaningful.
5. Understand that institutions that embrace lighter skin than yours, are NOT the standard for what is/isn’t acceptable via skin tone, ethnicity, etc.
6. Be mindful that you are above standards society has set for you.
7. No longer accept what the past and the present have imposed upon you. Refuse to carry that unnecessary burden. DON’T own it!
8. Know the issue is NOT with you. It’s with individuals who, and institutions that impose judgment and limitations upon you. It only becomes your issue when you adopt it.
9. Your best defense is how you respond to it. It’s your choice.
10. Always remember, YOU are BEAUTIFUL!
I must share a poem I recited when in fourth grade at the Black History Month play at school. I understood this poem to be one of Langston Hughes’ response to segregation in America. However, I never realized I held this poem, not only in my memory but in my heart to use decades later in response to segregation by my people.
I, Too, Sing America by Langston Hughes
I, too, sing America.
I am the darker brother.
They send me to eat in the kitchen
When company comes,
But I laugh,
And eat well,
And grow strong.
Tomorrow,
I’ll be at the table
When company comes.
Nobody’ll dare
Say to me,
“Eat in the kitchen,”
Then.
Besides,
They’ll see how beautiful I am
And be ashamed —
I, too, am America.
