For eight years I have knocked on Black America’s door in hopes that someone would let me in. Instead, I keep getting a “thanks but no thanks” card in the mail. I have forged several meaningful friendships with women of color si nce I moved to America. However, I am disappointed with my interactions with most black people since I moved to America. I am disappointed in constantly having to justify and defend my blackness. realize now that I came here with extremely unrealistic expectations, that have influenced my reactions to these situations.
I have sought comm unity all my life. In coming to America, I thought that I could finally be a part of a community. Little did I know how very disjointed and fragmented black America really was. I did not know that the shade of your skin (and to some degree the circumstances in which you are raised) dictates whether you are considered a part of. I was not prepared for the rejection, and even eight years later, I am caught off guard by some comments, questions and assumptions.

I am often asked “what are you mixed with?” When I respond that my birthfather is African American, I usually receive perplexed looks, as I clearly do not reflect their image of what a black and white biracial person should look like. Some go on to ask whether I have confirmed that my birth father is black….”perhaps he is actually Hispanic.” Nevertheless, yesterday was a first for me. During a conversation with some friends over drinks, I was asked how I felt about passing for white. What stunned me most was the phrasing of “since you pass.” What would make someone assume that I was taken back by the matter of factness of her assumption that I have the “privilege” of passing as white. I am sure that my friend did not intend to offend, but it stung nonetheless. I can no more reject my blackness than I can my whiteness, as they compose the two haves that make me a whole person.

Comments and questions that attempt to force the recipient to , continues to underscore the exclusionary attitudes and behaviors prevalent within the black community. It also speaks to the fact that people of color continue to “other” and marginalize each other based on arbitrary aesthetic demarcations as to what is and is not considered a person of color.

While I under

stand that group dynamics naturally dictate membership based on degrees of inclusion and exclusion, the manner in which these dynamics materialize within black America is perplexing. As black America continues to exclude those of us who are biracial, bicultural, or mixed from full, legitimate membership, it sends a message that true diversity is not desired within the black community, or at least diversity that falls outside certain parameters. In essence the black community has internalized race oppression and repression, thereby creating its own internally marginalized and excluded population.

Regardless how light or dark our skin tone is, those of us who are multicultural or mixed, have just as much of a right to be a part of black America. The ways in which we experience oppression and alienation might take on different dimensions, but the fact remains that we experience them due to the color of our skin. I just never expected to be marginalized or ostracized by other people of color.

I clearly do not believe this is hard and fast., that everyone in the black community subscribes to this viewpoint. I have only rece

ntly built relationships with other Black people where I do not feel like I am under a constant microscope or constantly need to justify my blackness. I value their friendship and have learned tremendously from them. They have provided me with incredible insight and have helped me along my journey.

It became crystal clear to me last night, that as long as Black America operates like a fraternity, vetting and rejecting those who do not meet arbitrary and elusive exclusionary criterion, that door is never going to open.