The Study of Racialism

gemini072 · Moderator Joined: 27 Nov 2004 {Posts: 2942 }

p 213 Other Forces

In a book such as this, where race is examined exhaustibely (and exhaustingly, at times), it's all too easy to lose sight of the fact that race is never the sole influence in a biracial person's life. Depending on the day, the weather, or the concerns of the moment, the pieces that make up a sense of self come together differently. After all, who a person is can in part be defined by who they are called upon to be; one's identification with a political party may be stronger in an election year, one's sense of being American may be more acute while trabeling abroad.

Fluctuations in identity, in which part of the self takes the spotlight at a given moment, can also be ordered by basic survival needs. Sometimes, the acute demands of on part of a person's identity can make it more present, require it to be more aggressively tended than any other. In this chapter, three people discuss essential elements and forces in their lives besides race - and explain how these often superseded race as an influence on their developing identities and concerns.

A gay man talks about his homosexuality in relationship to his racial identity: how the two have developed at different speeds, in different environments. A woman describes a childhood home life that was less remarkable in matters of race than it was in growing up surrounded by people who were aged and dying. A young man tells of two experiences - substance abuse and having been put up for adoption - that have had as much (or more) impact as race on his life choices and direction.

Although all of these people had been asked to tell only as much of their life stories as was necessary to understand their developing sense of race and identity, each one determined that these other parts of their lives needed to be told. And so here are tremendously important parts of life that stand alone, distinct from race. But, of course, they do not necessarily stand alone, and fair arguments could be made that they may not be distinct from race at all. Certainly, their stories serve as acute reminders that race in America does not exist or define itself in a vacuum.-Lise Funderberg

Paul Whitaker
Age: 32
Residence: San Francisco, California
Occupation: Psychotherapist and psychological researcher

Paul Whitaker's parents met at Swerthmore College, outside of Philadelphia. His father was the first black student-and the only black student during his years there - to attend the school. He became a political scientist, with a specialty in Nigeria. Whitaker's mother was a French teacher at Swarthmore. For the first five years of her life, she had lived in Africa, where her parents were Protestant missionaries.

Whitaker's parents married when his father was 21 and his mother was 30. They had 2 sons and separated when Whitaker was four, his brother, six. With his mother and brother, Whitaker moved to Norton, Massachusetts, a predominately white town where he lived through high school. Although he was not close to his father, he regularly visited his paternal relatives in Pittsburg, Pennsylvania, where they ran a funeral home. Whitaker says that through puberty, he was not very conscious of racial issues. "Apart from my mother saying, 'You're biracial,' which didn't have a lot of significance for me, I didn't quite understand racial tension. Obviously, as I entered adolescence I heard about it, but it really wasn't a reality to me because I had experienced being accepted by both races and feeling part of both races, so it was abstract.

When we talked about pop culture images of biracial people, Whitaker pointed out that another aspect of his identity, homosexuality, tends to be represented with similar melodrama. "So I'm tragic, times two, I guess." he says. "A gay tragic mulatto would have been great thematic material for a fifties movie."

More to Come

I usually don't add my 2 cents to my postings but I will for this one. I'm posting this one because it deals with a person of partial Black ancestry who looks 'white', who also seems to have a healthy picture of himself as a biracial person. It seems too many times especially online that other biracial and mixed identified people allow pain, rejection, self hate and a few other things to define their biracial identity. My mixed identity came with no tension and was handed to me from both my parents like a gift. - modTy

Powell · Guru Joined: 27 Nov 2004 {Posts: 2462 }

gemini072 · Moderator Joined: 27 Nov 2004 {Posts: 2942 }

gemini072 · Moderator Joined: 27 Nov 2004 {Posts: 2942 }

Growing up, my identity was quite white. I physically am quite white. I'm whiter in terms of complexion and features than most biracial kids that I've met, more than my brother. I seem to have this mysterious look that can be identified as a lot of ethnicities. Most people think that I have some ethnic background, but have a hard time distiquishing what it is -Jewish, Italian, Arab. A number of things are more likely to be assumed than biracial.

Frankly, I wasn't identitified by others in the white community where we lived as being black unless I chose to do so. So in a sense, since I was living with my mother in a white community and didn't appear to be black to the majority of people, my identity was very much white. Also, I wasn't close to my father, and I think the emotional distance meant that I didn't identify with him. I don't know how much that would have made a difference in my racial identity at that point, with all the other factors the same. If I had simply felt closer to my father, perhaps I would have had more of a black identity.

I used to catch flak for my hair. I frankly don't remember thinking that it was a racial slur, though, but rather as just isolating something about my hair. The only racial discomfort I remember feeling back then was when I heard kids say nigger, and it was clear to me they weren't thinking I was a part of the group they were being derogatory toward at the time. So I felt conflicted, I remember that I did not identify my race at that time, at that age, so that there was a kind of hiding.

During that period, it seemed almost a technicality. If a form asked for my race, then I would check other and write biracial. Nowadays I often just write black. There's been a certain development in why I do that. Somewhat later on, I realized that to be part black is to be black in this society. But it's a strange position, I suppose, to be in some ways considered more black because I have black heritage, and also to have my particular lack of black identity or acculturation for as long as I did.

I started to become more aware and to have identity conflicts once I got to college. I was invited to a black student orientation, my roommate was black, and clearly I was being seen as a black student upon entering Wesleyn University.

I started to become very aware of what I didn't have in terms of a racial identity, and was very uncomfortable about it. I didn't have any real knowledge of black culture, so I didn't feel I fit in, and that was painful, that was hard. I think that was the first time I struggled with my racial identity. I didn't know any black vernacular; I didn't have this sort of strong, not only language, but body language and knowledge. There was a lot I hadn't read. I had never thought about my musical taste being black or white, but simply that I didn't consciously have a black collection of either literature or music. It wasn't something I had too much consciousness about.

At the same time, no one ever seemed to have expectations of me, not that they voiced. As far as I can remember, no one ever said to me, "You seem to have something lacking," so it was in large part that I had this sense that I would be judged for being too white, too middle-class. I try not to judge myself on that level, although perhaps I do. I guess I've struggled with that. But even to this day, I don't really adjust my personality or act any differently with Whites or Blacks. To do so would be false; it would be hypocrisy. If I had a comfortable exposure to both and it was really me to slip into [either one of] them, then the changing wouldn't be hyprocrisy. But to affect this inner-city black persona I've never had, that my father doesn't have, is a bit false. I will play with it in the way I will play with any sort of identity, but I won't try to pass as being something different than I am. I still to this day, though, have some self consciousness about feeling too white in black contexts.

I did very little about that when I was at Wesleyan because I didn't know what to do. I didn't actively become involved in black student organizations because I didn't have a black identity, so part of it was fear that I just was too white and wouldn't fit in, but also I didn't have any need to. That's one thing that makes me part of a very small minority amongst black people; I think it's quite rare to not have a need for black affinity. I didn't feel I needed that refuge or support or protection; I didn't feel I needed it to support who I was.

More 2 Come

gemini072 · Moderator Joined: 27 Nov 2004 {Posts: 2942 }

I started to be aware that the black part of my racial makeup had little significance to me. "Little significance" makes it sound as if I was totally unaware of racial issues, and that's not true; they certainly meant something to me, but on a personal level . . .? In other words, probably my perspective was more akin to a white person who black people and liked them as opposed to a black person.

Still, no one ever said anything to me directly about not being black enough. It's something I've suspected and felt in people's behavior to me, but it's never been said to me. So I don't know where projection stops and reality begins along that dimension. Maybe it's partially not wanting to be aware, not wanting to take it into account, because I don't want to think along those lines. I just simply want to feel comfortable with who I am and how I've developed.

I felt alienated at Wesleyan, and I left after two and a half years. I felt culturally apart there, but it's not that I felt like the answer was black culture. Maybe I felt the class difference. I was educated, but I certainly didn't have the money that the majority of the students had - maybe that was part of it - although I wasn't too aware of money then. You see, I just felt alienated. The academics were very good, and I was used to that and I anticipated that, but what came as a suprise was that interpersonal dynamics were always competitive and intellectual, and I could never, so to speak, let my hair down. I could never really be myself, and that made me feel very uncomfortable.

From there I went to Hampshire College, but not directly. First I came to San Francisco for half a year because I was gay and I wanted to experience a gay community. It was really a very freeing experience. Entering the gay community had a lot more to do with my identity development and my needs for community.

For most black gay men a hierarchy of oppression does exist, where affiliation with the black community is considered more important politically, socially, identitywise, and yet, ironically, a lot of black gay men actually don't socialize much amongst themselves. That's changing and that's certainly not a rule, but there is a subset of black gay men who don't associate much because they associate gay oppression wiht the black community, the black church, and a particular type of strong homophobia that they'd experienced within the black community.

There's a feeling that homosexuals debase the race, and so there's a kind of shame some Blacks can feel about that subject of the race. I think that black gay men do experience that dual oppression in a very difficult way - I don't actually feel a lot of these things and a lot of this experience, again, for physical reasons and, I suppose, cultural reasons as well - but what happens often is that black men coming out into the gay community find and feel more acceptance from white males. And yet there's a fair amount of racism in white gay communities, [just] as there is in the white community at large, and so it's hard not to feel that there's danger or threats from all sides. It's pretty surprising and shocking that there is racism with the gay community. They should know better because of their own oppression for being gay. It's also unfortunate that Blacks can't see that gays are oppressed and that the similarities could bring us together.

Often I think it's very much the opposite, that Blacks want to have a group they can look down on, that there's some comfort in being able to take one's feelings of oppression and to become the oppressor. I think we see that in all walks of socialization. But that phenomenon is really saddening to me; it just really shows how blind people can be, that they can't make that empathic leap that seems so obvious to me.

In terms of identity development, growing up I was much more conscious of the oppresive factors in society that would be a problem for me as gay then as black; that's not true of most black gay people. I think most black gay people feel that being black is more the case. But it hasn't been for me.

THese two communities, gay and black, have an interesting, complex relationship to each other. Within the black gay community, you always say "black gay," you don't say "gay black" -that sort of thing -because it's generally felt that the black part of the identity is the more important affiliation, that in the hierarchies of oppresion it's harder to be black than it is to be gay.

You put black first, much like saying "lesbian & gay," you always say lesbian first. It's just the politically correct way to do it. The more oppressed is said first because if you say gay and lesbian, it's an implicit preference, so you make up for it by always saying the other, which seems a little extreme as well. I'm involved with an organization called Lesbians and Gays of African Descent for Democratic Action (LGADDA). THere's a great preponderance of men in the group, and yet it's always going to be referred to as "lesbian & gay."

more to come

MP mulattoprince · Wizard Joined: 10 Apr 2007 {Posts: 464 }

Gemini072,

Thank you for posting this topic and excepts from the book. I find it very interesting how one being bi racial and gay but yet having a totally different experience in life from black gay men who have been raised in African American culture. To see gay life and bi racial life from the perspective of someone who was not raised in African American culture directly. It is good to get a different perspective, and sometimes being raised in African American culture only gives one a limited perspective from that culture.
I also feel that there is a bad stigma that goes along with being black and gay in African American communities throughout America.

gemini072 · Moderator Joined: 27 Nov 2004 {Posts: 2942 }

Now for me, the issue of passing exists on both dimensions because I have passed as straight and as white. I guess what makes them similar is that awareness that oppression is out there, lurking at the back door, and it's my decision to let it affect me or not. I have a sense of the potential for discrimination or perspectives changing as a result of factors or information I have control over.

I didn't need a black community to affirm my sense of identity at Wesleyan because I didn't have much of a black identity at that point. I'd say it's only in graduate school that I really started to form a black identity, and only in the last few years, since I've lived in San Francisco, that I've made active efforts to do so. I joined the political group, LGADDA, and I've just been making an effort to be more aware of black culture, in reading and making friends and activities, like in planning a party and thinking about racial balance. These are the sorts of things that I didn't use to think about.

With something like a party, the motivation is to have balance so that everybody feels comfortable, much like I seek sexual or gender balance, or even sexual orientation balance. I suppose, for example, I could have a party and invite only black people, but that to me seems more artificial. I'm invited to all-black parties and I don't think it's artificial that there aren't white people there, but it would be for me because I would be actively excluding a lot of my friends and just don't do that. I know friends who have white and black friends, and sometimes they want to have a party of all black people, so I guess that may be reflective again of that thing about needing the group. I feel my needs from the black community are more about my own growth as opposed to feeling a need for protection.

I get a little uncertain of what it means to be black or white. In other words, sometimes I feel like I'm pretty white, and yet, I wonder then, well, what does that mean? What does it mean to be black or white, because it operates on so many dimensions.

When I feel more white, that's about something physical, about how other people react to me in terms of oppression or discrimination. It's also culture and class: middle class, predominately white neighborhoods, predominately white schools. I don't see white people as different from me, and I think that's very different from most black people, maybe even very different from biracial people. I pass very easily as white, and so I have a sense that I do know what it's like to be fully part of white culture: being amongst white people for long periods of time. Also, the white culture is just more available for everyone on TV, in the media.

I don't know, however, what it feels like to be black in the sense of encountering the day to day assaults, the interactions that occur based on physical appearance. I'm not saying I'm not accepted by black people, but if I were darker-skinned and had more pronounced, African-descent features, I think some Blacks would trust me more. And to some degree I understand that, because I can be exposed, I can have an understanding, have sensitivities - but when you can pass, you can pass. It's a different experience, because it's the insidious stuff that really is the very painful part of prejudice.

Sometimes I think it's easier to deal with blatant prejudice. At least you know what you're dealing with. It's all the little subtle things: that you don't know if this person's being rude because your're black or are they just rude? Are they being patronizing, or isthat the way they talk? Never quite knowing how one's race might be figuring into a job decision that's being made. I don't typically have to ask myself those questions; I assume that for the most part I'm usually evaluated as white.

In my own experience, I've seen dating relationships turn off as a result of prejudice once someone realized I was black. Usually it's an insidious type of situation where they don't let on, but you slowly realize it, and then some other pretext comes up. So, again, it's partially speculation, but I think there's definately some truth to that; it's happened to me a few times.

more 2 come

Bischoff · Mentor Joined: 20 Jan 2008 {Posts: 395 }

When he says he can pass for straight, I wonder if he means he can speak without a lisp since a large percentage of gay men do have that lisp tone to their voice.

Lill · New User Joined: 21 Dec 2007 {Posts: 43 } Location: Sweden

I totally understand were he the guy in the book) is coming from. I am also raised in a total white community, even if I lived with my father for half of my childhood, our home and lifestyle was more Swedish. So I do not relate to the "black" culture at all. Maybe it is because my father was from Cuba and not American, I don't know. My culture is Swedish AND Cuban but mostly Swedish because this is the country I'm living in.
I really don't understand the way many biracial people in USA only identifies with one part of their parents culture and colour? For me it would be like denying my own parent. I really don't get it??? Rolling Eyes

Bischoff · Mentor Joined: 20 Jan 2008 {Posts: 395 }

What part of Cuba is your father from ? How culturally Afro Cuban was he, was he into Santeria for example ?

Lill · New User Joined: 21 Dec 2007 {Posts: 43 } Location: Sweden

My father doesn't live anymore unfortunately he died 10 years ago. He was from Guantanamo and yes he was indeed in to Santeria and I hated it when I was young. It was so embarassing when my friends came home to me to play and there were glasses of water behind doors and candles lit in the bathroom and sometimes he sat and prayed aloud in the living room. I hated all the questions it aroused from my friends.
So my father was very Cuban, he also was a really good cook and he cooked dinner as often as my mother did so I'm raised with both cuban and Swedish food. he also always danced salsa with me so now I'm very grateful to him because salsa is very hip in Sweden and I know how to dance salsa very well, thanks to my father.