Doesn't Matter If You're Black or White?

This post was written by another member of this blog who has yet to actually register for an account, so I've been asked to post it for her. Cheers- Sage

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Don't matter if you're black or white eh?

So what if you're neither black nor white? A long time ago, I was sitting on the couch with the TV tuned to Oprah. Tiger woods was on. I didn't really know who he was at the time. I didn't and still don't follow Golf or any other sports, I prefer to play them. I was relaxing, half listening to the show when I managed to catch Tiger's response to a question Oprah asked. He said (paraphrased), "I don't consider myself black."

My attention snapped into focus on the TV screen. Now I don't remember much, but what I did remember was the backlash to that answer in the news and Oprah's follow up question, which was something like, Are you sure that's what you want to say?

As a person who is mixed (black father, white/Indian mother) I was very aware that I fit into neither race. In West Africa, where I was born & grew up, people there are actually the color black. To them, my brown skin was more white than black. The curly hair stood out like a sore thumb too. One of my earliest memories is of being mobbed by a pack of black school children, and being surrounded and exclaimed over by excited kids. In those parts, a live white person was a rare and foreign animal.

In North America, anyone would look at a picture of me and say black without a second thought. And that was shocking to me, when I first arrived to North America. People here considered me black, wow. I was very uneasy. I was being told two different things by two different cultures, neither of which I was fully a part of.

As I grew up in North America, I learned to ignore and eventually become indifferent to the labels. I never took part in any conversations that went too deeply into this topic because I was well aware of the Tiger Woods effect. Within me, I was well aware that if I were to step back into the home of my childhood, I would be seen as closer to white than black. And because I grew up with an African culture, I don't identify with African American culture either.

And so? What to do? The identity crisis was too much. For me, I ignored it until I was ready. My sister embraced African America culture fully, and my brother? Well, let's just say he’s doing better now.

To say that I’m black denies part of me, denies my mother’s culture. To say that I’m not, sparks outrage, as Tiger found out. My answer? I’m neither, I’m both. I prefer the middle way, the paradox that is both true and untrue.

-Bemused