When I first heard that "Dark Girls' was coming out last year, I was excited to see how they would piece together a tale/narrative for all of us to ingest. Having read "Our Kind of People" and "Skin Deep," seeing the seminal work "Black Is, Black Ain't," and thinking through the visual of "School Daze," I was excited to see a thoughtful perspective on colorism.
Unfortunately, the challenge for me is that I really don't like talking about this issue with non-black people, because it is a sensitive topic...even for me. Once while we were in seminary, a professor had us read on the complexities of colorism in the black community and discuss it with our classmates. For one of the first times in the history of my life, I was unwilling to participate because the damage of colorism is real, and I felt, and still very much feel that the matter is much more complex than people can admit or understand. And, in a classroom of predominantly white seminarians, who still just wanted a colorblind reconcilliatory society without addressing the ills, I was not willing to have this very tough conversation.
But, today I reflect because the binary of dark-skinned rejection and light-skinned privilege isn't always (are even in my mind predominantly) the case. Other variables, like class, education, and gender complicate this continued house/field negro duality. And, unfortunately, while Dark Girls explored the kind of shame and pain my brothers and sisters of a darker skinned face regularly...as it should, what it expressed in silence, was that light skinned brothers and sisters are somehow walking around carefree, living lives of relative celebrity and opulence - as though they were in a pantene commercial.
However, childhood reminders make me aware that this is truly not the case. I can remember the many stories of my aunts and uncles who came of age in the civil rights/black power era being called by other black people: "yellow shit," "stringy haired sell-out," "mixed-breed," and "white trash." They were often told (as I have been), "you aren't black" and "you think you better than everybody," while whites often asked them, "what are you." My mother would often reply, that she was a human! But it infuriated her. And much of their lives they had to spend time negotiating what it meant to be light-skinned in a black context that thought they were the enemy.
Even in my life, I have had young brothers seek to fight me so that they could see if my skin would darken by their punch. Or, when I was with my dark-skinned family taking pictures, one family member said, while holding the camera, "put the spot in the middle." These kinds of experiences continue to sit with me, and remind me that even though I have advanced degrees around African American studies, work in a Black Cultural Center, and spend my days and nights thinking about Black space, I will never be Black enough for some.
Many a light-skinned person understands this...and at some point seeks to carve out a life that is authentic regardless of the rejection that honestly holds all shades of Black people hostage to poor self image and low self-esteem. As a man, my self-esteem has been battered by the rejection of love interests who have said to me: "I don't date light-skinned men!" And, I have had to ask myself each time: "what does this mean?" Am I not worthy? Am I the sell-out? Is she trying to stay true to her visual/physical desires?
Some of my male friends surmise that light skinned brothers don't get any love because they are soft. And, here is another complexity of race and gender...and the damage done on Black people around this issue. If light skinned brothers are effeminate and dark skinned brothers are masculine, aren't we reifying stereotypes that enforce our own degradation? Aren't we saying what was said at the turn of the (19th and 20th) century: light skinned equals uncle tom/zip coon and dark skinned equals buck. And, these conversations are prevalent with men as much as they are with women. My own experiences have taught me that brothers ease their concerns about colorism through the use of sarcasm and jokes. Its always funny to note that in my experiences its never light-skinned brothers willing to start down this path that can sometimes turn into an all out verbal assault.
I can't put my finger on it, but I think that what Fannie Lou Hamer said about the US is true for how we handle colorism: "Nobody's Free Until We All Are Free!" Until we are all able to admit that trauma has been done and is perpetuated daily on all shades of us, we will only be able to pick at the blistering sore, rather than provide a substantive balm. As I told one friend who was intent on commenting on my complexion, but who had chosen to marry a person lighter than me: "you do know that your boys will probably end up my complexion...why are you so intent on hatin' on me?"
That's the real question. How do we love our people no matter what shade they are? How do we address our own desires...and at the same time heal from our reprobate states? How do we address our pain in 2013? The first is to admit the following:
I know Dark Girls hurt, but I also know that Dark Boys, Brown Girls, Brown Boys, Light Girls, and Light Boys hurt too.
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