For all the talk about whether U.S. Sen. Barack Obama is “black enough” to win the support of African-American voters, one question that has barely been addressed is this: Just what does it mean to be black?
To hear some tell it, if a black person does not attend an Apostolic or Baptist church, come from the inner city, play (or at least like) basketball, wear a certain type of clothing and listen to rap and R&B music, then his blackness is open to challenge.
Too many Americans, blacks included, derive their understanding of blackness from popular culture and its easy characterizations — the focus on sports and entertainment; the derivative and accented English; the brand-name sportswear and flamboyant jewelry. These characterizations trap African-Americans and limit the idea of blackness to a transitory style. They grossly fail to reflect the breadth and depth of black culture.
How is it that actor Ice-T, who is light-skinned, has a white wife and rapped about killing cops and selling drugs, is universally seen as black? But Obama, who is light-skinned, has a black wife, worked with low-income communities and has a law degree, is questioned about his blackness? Something is indeed wrong with this picture.
The blackness question is not an issue just for Obama. It is an issue for the black community.
Though Rev. Al Sharpton — who has straightened hair like a stereotypical street pimp and tends toward the oratorical style of a Baptist minister — is readily identified as black, Condoleezza Rice, Oprah Winfrey, Wayne Brady and a whole cadre of other black professionals get called on the carpet of popular questioning about their blackness because of the way they speak or dress.
Much has already been made of the idea that speaking clearly and using correct grammar and proper enunciation is “talking white.” Worse, some misguided black students also equate getting good grades with being white. Clearly, the meaning of blackness is confused not only outside the black community but inside it as well.
Compared with most other countries, the United States is exceptional because blackness here relates to both race and culture. In Latin America and the Caribbean, for example, race does not determine culture; nationality determines culture.
Take a case close to home: Former Chicago Cubs slugger Sammy Sosa, who is from the Dominican Republic, is considered racially black. But he is Dominican by nationality and culture. His culture is Dominican, not black.
Because of segregation in the United States, a separate black culture has developed beyond the national culture. Race has taken on extra meaning here. It is not just a physical description. It is not just a political concept that awards privileges based on skin color. Race is also a cultural description for blacks in the United States.
So what exactly is blackness?
Politically and physically, blackness includes but is not limited to the experience of being recognized as black, and the experience of having a familial link to a history of oppression related to skin color.
Culturally, blackness includes but is not limited to: resilience and adaptability; creativity and generosity with limited resources; turning negatives into positives (ranging from experiences to language usage); valuing inclusiveness and cooperation; maintaining oral traditions; recognizing and valuing extended family and fictive kin; valuing individual competitiveness but within the construct of the collective; valuing spirituality and nature; operating from a world view of forgiveness; tending toward the colorful relating to personal and domestic adornment; and being celebratory and participatory.
These are broad characteristics. And they are most certainly not limited to blacks. But blackness in its cultural essence relies on these core values and characteristics.
Looked at this way, the popular idea of blackness is exposed as being severely limited. We know that not all black men are basketball players or felons. All black women are not single mothers, say, “uh huh, girl,” and move their necks to accentuate a point.
Black people ski, sky dive, are Hindu and hike. They own tanning salons, camp, play golf and listen to Yo-Yo Ma, Metallica and Brahms. They live on the Gold Coast, drink lattes and vote Republican. Many blacks also do not like catfish, Flavor Flav or Jesse Jackson. Many don’t dance, accept low academic performance from their children or come from single-parent homes. Many blacks do not call each other “nigger.” And they will not vote for Obama simply because he is black.
While all Americans should reject the popular cultural representations of blackness, it is imperative for blacks themselves to do so. Blacks must flee from myopic views of themselves to avoid falling into the trap of cultural limitation.
When we all understand the breadth and the depth of blackness, there will no longer be discussions about whether a person is black enough. Being black will be enough.
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Yan Searcy is an associate professor in the departments of social work and sociology at Chicago State University.
ysearcy@csu.edu.
