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Part 2 of 4 | See Previous Post Zakiya: I am Black. I am Black at work. I am Black in the grocery stores. I am Black when a police officer pulls me over. I am Black when I walk down the street. I am Black when I apply to schools. I am Black when I feel insecure - or not pretty enough around white people. I am Black when I second guess myself. I am Black when I see bullshit like this post. Regardless of your opinion of my Blackness, there are ways to approach the subject rather than regarding yourself as the owner of my identity. White people have already stolen my identity - I live in [that] everyday. That's my struggle. But you, as a Black queer woman of color, will not sit on your culprit when [I am not] your enemy. I am not your damn enemy. When I said define Black, define African, I am not saying that as some pasty white person working at my father's hedgefund who is denial of their significant birthrights. You as a Black woman should be ashamed. I am aware of my privileges, woman. Yes, I am a light-skinned woman with long, curly hair. Yes, my father is from Liberia. Yes, my mother is white. But that doesn't make me no less Black to the oppressors of this world... Kim: But it does. Plus, you're half-white and half-African, how were you connected to the transatlantic slave trade again? Because that's Black. Black isn't some umbrella term everyone can huddle under. Just because you look Black, or even feel Black, doesn't make you Black. Have some respect and recognize your privilege: You're extremely light with a white mother and an African father. You have not only light-skinned privilege, but you're rooted in an African culture that allows you and your African friends to define yourself in ways Black people will never have access to. So be that, but you're not Black. Comments are closed.
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