It’s OK for white people to say that they wish they were black. It’s seen as self-deprecating, an act of appreciation for a culture that doesn’t get enough respect. There’s supposed to be a certain degree of shock value to it — like, perhaps, you’re a greater person or have a deeper sense of appreciation for culture than most people because you want to be black. And then there’s also curiosity as to what life is like for someone else. That last bit — we all have that, to one extent or another.
But if you’re black, you’re not supposed to want to be white. It’s seen as a bit uppity, as if you think, inside, that you’re “better” than the default of how society sees you in your black skin. And it’s seen as an indictment of whiteness — it introduces the idea that the difference between you and I is skin tone. It forces white people to face the fact that being white is better than being black in society.
And black people don’t like it, either, oftentimes, because admitting that it’s better to be white takes our eyes off being black. Many of us are interested in enriching or combatting the picture of “blackness” in the United States, and looking wistfully at white skin doesn’t help.
But what about me? My opinion might be silent…except white people ask me, often (perhaps hoping to be reassured that white privilege is a myth) “Have you ever wanted to be white?”
Here is the truth:
When I was a kid I hated my skin so much that one day I scrubbed my face hard for several minutes to make it lighter. It gave me embarrassing dark spots on both cheeks for months; unfortunately, I still have the scars as a reminder every time I see myself in the mirror (or take a selfie).
Yes, I have wanted to be white. And the solution has not been ignoring color. I don’t have that option. Due to subtle differences in ways I’m treated and what I know now, because of research, about the realities of race in this country, I’m constantly reminded that my skin tone is connected to an inescapable political identity. The cold, hard figures show that, in spite of constant gaslighting, black people aren’t making it up. I’m in the political category of being black in America. Nobody asked me if I wanted to be, and I can’t escape it so far as I can see.
Accepting it is not enough, in my experience.
What works is being proud of my skin. And not just in a vague way — in a way that is proud of concrete aspects of my family, my heritage, and the black people who fight and continue to fight, under tremendous opposition, for equality in this country.
This pride causes no small degree of consternation among many white people. We’re all people, they say. Why do you have to go around proud of being black?
Others, feeling pity, may come alongside and ask, “How can we, as white people, help you be less ashamed of being a black person?”
One thing I’ve learned — one thing I’ve HAD to learn — is that there is a difference between your skin tone and the socioeconomic, political identity of whiteness. When someone says, “How can we, as white people, help black people?” they are asking, “How can I use my whiteness to help you as a black person?”
I’ve been scratching my head about that for a long time, because I haven’t really been sure.
But I think I have an answer, somewhat.
You can’t. Because you’re not just asking to help me — you’re asking to help me (whether you want to or not) as a white person — where “white” is a very (impossibly?) stubborn political category that you seem to embrace in the very asking of the question.
Flaunting the fact that you’re white as if it gives you a special advantage in combatting racism reinforces the superiority of whiteness and, by extension, racism. Maybe you don’t mean it that way, but that’s the way it works.
So maybe the question should change from, “How can I, as a white person, help?” to, “How can I erase the concept of whiteness?”
I’m not saying you gotta do this. You don’t. But if you want to help end racial division in this country (read: not framed as helping black people, which is problematic, but as ending *racial division*), the best way you can help is not with a focus on using whiteness to help black people, but by looking at the concept of whiteness itself and dismantling it.
If that becomes your project, you might be surprised at how many black people are willing to help you out. A lot won’t; we’re too busy building our pride in being black. But a few of us won’t mind at all.
But as long as you’re white (as a political category), I have to be black. As long as whiteness becomes a place of privilege, blackness exists as its opposite and is given to me, and establishing pride in this concept of blackness is necessary in order to gain dignity in a society in which this whiteness exists. And the ultimate goal of this blackness is to dismantle whiteness. Whiteness has to surrender first to stop the opposition.
Just so you know. It may never happen, but that’s where we’re at, more or less.