

Random thoughts, running commentary, rants and raves...for 6 months prior to and 6 months following my 40th birthday in April 08.
Forever, this has been going on.
Spike Lee dramatized the issue in his film "School Daze" .
Now, today, I find countless blogs where colorism is being discussed and what I am reading makes me angry.
What I find most interesting is the INTENSE anger being targeted at light skinned African Americans. I found one blog where people on both sides were contributing their comments and feelings...and then someone jumps in and suddenly starts bashing light skinned people. At first, I wasn't going to give this blog any credit because much of the responses are ignorant nonsense. But, I sat back and realized that these are real people. These people are in school with our children, sitting next to us in church, working next to us in the office. So, I suppose we need to address this at many different levels. Don't get me wrong, it isn't this blogger than concerns me...it's those who have responded here.
Some of the responses to that blog mirror what I read in another article this morning: African Americans who are mixed race, on any level, are asked to identify themselves as mixed, or mulatto, or something else....but not as black or African American. Really? We really want that?
Let's think about that for a minute. Here are the questions I'd like to ask those who support the idea of asking mixed-race African Americans having to identify as something else.
Really, people. In the words of my good friend (who is white & Cambodian mix) Rose O'Donnell, this is a bunch of "ridiculousness".
Here comes the rant:
I am very, very tired of feeling like I need to feel apologetic for having light skin, light eyes, light hair. Wait! Let me go on before you jump in...
I was raised in a middle-class home, the daughter of an attorney, who was/is also an Alpha. My family, for many generations, has been free, educated and talented. I grew up in Philadelphia and in the Caribbean,when Dad was in the Attorney General's office of the United States Virgin Islands. I still consider the Virgin Islands to be my second home and get down there a couple of times each year. Yes, this has nothing to do with skin color. Just framing my background for you. If you think skin color is an issue in the US, you should go to the Caribbean. It is beyond reason there.
Wait! It gets better and if you are made at me for being light, you're about to really get mad...
My late paternal grandmother, Helen Chase Gilbert, was a Charter Member of Jack and Jill in Philadelphia. Jack and Jill was founded in Philadelphia in 1938, so this was the very beginning of the group. Yes, I am a current member and my hope for my daughter is that she will one day be a member. As I sit in my monthly meetings and glance around the room, I am greeted with beautiful, genuine smiles of women(of all hues) who are setting the benchmark in their respective fields - and their skin tone and hair textures are as varied as the day is long. As a matter of fact,when I served as President of my chapter, our First Vice-President was a darker skinned sister with twisted, natural braids. She was also a leader in her community and had been afforded the office of President before I, but elected to decline due to the expanse of her community obligations.
My mother was also member of Jack and Jill, and was also a Toastie. Yes, the Toasties...that group may have, at one time, administered the Brown Paper Bag test. My mother speaks of the test with disdain. She, herself, didn't know anything about the test when she joined. She is very fair and administration of the test was probably not needed for her. Once she learned of the test, she was embarrassed about it. Her parents and siblings would have all failed that test! Mom left the Toasties.
Most interestingly, on my father's side of the family (the more bourgeois side), most everyone is very,very fair skinned with more European features and straight hair. My paternal grandfather's brother "passed" all of his life. He lived in Florida, while most of us were in Philadelphia. Interestingly enough, we did see him quite often. He always showed up to important family events (alone) and sent Christmas presents to us all - a crate of fresh,Florida fruit - one for each household. He never missed a Christmas. We loved him and we forgave him. When he died, we each received a simple, handwritten note from his daughter: "Please be advised that William Gilbert has passed away. Sincerely, The Family." There was no return address, no details on where he is buried, etc. Of course, if we wanted to find out, it wouldn't have been hard. We have his former address and I'm sure one our family historians has his Social Security number. I am also told that someone in our family has some old letters written by my great-grandmother, asking Uncle Will to "make a choice" between worlds. I guess we all know which world he chose. Also, before he died, he wrote a memoir of his life.
This is the wonderful thing about Blogging. I can ramble off track and nobody can complain or accuse me of straying off topic. After all, this is my Blog (smile).
Back to the topic:
I've written all of that detail above because I wanted to give you a true sense of my point of view. My family and I would probably be considered Public Enemy #1 to all of those who are just generally angry at light-skinned African Americans and anything we've done that you would perceive as elitist and exclusive.
That being said, those of you who are just generally angry at light-skinned African Americans need to check yourselves. Quit the "I am a victim" role and take a more positive approach to who you are and how you are perceived. Look at the darker skinned role models in our community - the government leaders, the politicians, the physicians, the artists, the activists, philanthropists, etc. Come on down to Miami in July and check out the thousands of ladies walking into the Jack and Jill National Conference - check them out and tell me if Jack and Jill is administering a Brown Paper Bag test. Visit web pages for our strongest organizations and check out the photos of the membership. Tell me if you think they've shut out the darker hued from membership.
Here's what I think. I think the problem is with you. I think you meet people who look like me and a 1-ton chip immediately appears on your shoulder. You start to size me up. You want me to prove how black I am. When I was a young teen and I was enrolled in a local tennis camp for the summer, some of the African American players started a discussion about whether or not I was really black. I had to answer a series of questions. I guess I was too young and too insecure to tell them to go take a long walk off of a short pier. So, I answered the questions. "Would you rather watch Good Times or The Waltons"? Well, truth be told, I preferred the Waltons. I was around 13 years old and there was no way my mother would have let me watch a grown-up show with adult content like Good Times. But, nonetheless, I wasn't black enough because I didn't regularly watch Good Times.
Situations like the above repeated throughout my adolescence. I recall asking my mother to allow me to attend public school for 9th grade. I was tired of private school and wanted to socialize with more African American kids. I was already in Jack and Jill, but I was looking for something deeper. My parents were supportive and I tested for and enrolled in one of the city's Magnet public schools. It was not pretty! I rode to school on the public trolley or subway. Girls would yell at me from the back of the trolley as I got on "whoa, it sure is BRIGHT and sunny out here today" or "Look, it's Casper the Ghost". Once I arrived at school, things weren't much better. Kids would break into my locker, threaten me in the halls, try to cut my hair, etc. I did have some good friends - across the color spectrum. But, there was a pervasive ugliness against me, because of my appearance, my diction and my clothes (as far as I could tell).
After that year, my parents decided that I needed to go back to private school. I did, and things were ok again. We had darker skinned and lighter skinned girls in private school and everyone got along. I don't recall the color issue coming up for the rest of my time in high school. Not in my school, anyway.
This brings me to wonder whether the skin color issue is much more pervasive outside of the middle and upper class.
I wonder if the "skin color" debate is really just a smokescreen for a larger issue: Class.
If you were a dark-skinned, successful, pediatric neurosurgeon living in Westchester County NY with your dark-skinned millionaire husband and your beautiful, dark-skinned children.....and your housekeeper was light-skinned, would you still hate her?
In the end, I am of the opinion that this issue remains relevant in our community only because we keep it relevant. There are powerful, admired, beautiful African American women across all hues. Likewise, there are ignorant, shameless women across all hues. Focus on skin tone, from anyone, is simply a fuel to further ignite the fire burning in this community. We cannot afford to divide! If you find that you have chip on your shoulder about ANYONE based on the color of their skin, then YOU have a problem that YOU need to correct. If you don't correct it, then YOU are guilty of pulling the community into a deeper state of disrepair.
And, if I am not black enough for you because of how I look, I cannot help you. I will not apologize or have any empathy for you.
And, as far as the whole light-skin and being black enough issue is concerned, I wonder how you would feel about my cousin, Michaela Angela Davis. Is she down enough?
A nice Salon article here (love, love Salon!!) Love that she's using the term "hybrid". Hybrid is cool, right? I really like that term.
As far as the party promoter in Detroit is concerned, it was a stupid publicity stunt. And, now everyone is fired up about this instead of larger issues on which we should be focused today.....such as, Child Abuse!
Here's a poem to get your mind back into a state of saneness:
Sisterhood
A room full of sisters, like jewels in a crown, Vanilla, cinnamon, and dark chocolate brown.
Now picture yourself in the midst of this glory As I describe the sisters who are part of this story.
They were wearing burgundies, maroon and all shades of grays.
Some had elegant hats and others hairstyles of different arrays.
With sparkling eyes and shiny lips, They moved through the room swaying their hips.
Speaking with smiles on their cultural faces, Their joyful laughter filled all spaces.
They were fashionable and stylish in what they were wearing, Kind sisters who were loving and caring.
You see, it’s not about how these sisters appeared, Their beauty was in the values they revered.
They were smart, articulate and well read, With kinds of Latin history stored in their heads.
Jugglers of professions, managers of lives, Mothers of children, lovers and wives.
Good hearted, reaching out to others, Giving back to the community and supporting our brothers.
All of these sisters struggled the path. Suffered from prejudice, endured the wrath.
But they brushed off their dresses and pushed on the door, And they came back stronger than they were before.
Now imagine if you will The essence and thrill,
As you stand feeling proud In the heart of this crowd.
A sisterhood of strong women today, Still out in front, paving the way.
A room full of sisters, like jewels in a crown, Vanilla, cinnamon and dark chocolate brown.