Feature

How to Represent Black Folks When the Only One Is You

Saturday Jul 11, 2009 – By Janelle Harris

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Published 7/11/2009

I’ve never been a sought-after celebrity, never sang a song on stage (except for that one unfortunate karaoke incident), never had the paparazzi chase me down in the street or out of a Starbucks to hang on my every word, speculate how my relationship is going based on the amount of stuff I bought and then race back to the office to talk trash about my outfit. But I can empathize with the feeling of having to be in the spotlight-ready all the time. While I’m no Halle or Rhi Rhi or Sanaa or B, I have been the only black person in a room full of white folks. More times than I care to calculate, actually. So trust and believe, this much I do know: You better be prepped for your own personal close-up if you ever find yourself the only polka dot in a sea of porcelain white.

My experience on this matter stretches back over 15 years, way back to when I was a wide-eyed freshman in high school. I had moved from a large metropolis full of all kinds of brown and bronze and chocolate-y dark people to live with my grandmother in rural Lancaster County, Pennsylvania. Straight Amish country. Fields and farms and lots of fresh air and bugs and all kinds of things that generally make city girls swat, scream and flail about. Aside from the National Geographic aspect of my transition to God’s Country, USA, there were all kinds of social adjustments to be made. I was promptly enrolled at the local high school (whose mascot was a mule, if that gives you any indication at all about the level of sophistication we’re talking about here).

Once the forms had been filled out and the shots had been administered and my class schedule had been squared away, I became the sixth black student in a population of 1,600 kids. (Thas’ right—six outta 16 hunert.) Without even volunteering for the job, I became the physically uncrowned but undisputed reigning regional Miss Black America. As far as a good majority of the students at my school were concerned (and even a hefty portion of the teachers and administrators), I was equipped to answer their every burning question about Africa, music, soul and other mystifying issues swirling around the subject of Blackness.

Why don’t we wash our hair every day?

Why did it seem like every Black person had a thousand cousins and extended relatives?

How come we walk like we’re limping?

And just what is grease and how do we use it in our heads?

History class was a trip. Music class was a trip. But the biggest laugh of all was gym (shout out to every team leader who picked me because, obviously, my skin color makes me a natural born athlete. Sorry about all those missed lay-ups and bricked jump shots!)

After my joyous graduation and inevitable release from the hallowed halls of hillbilly-ism, I moved on to college—at none other than the first Historically Black College or University, thank you very much: I needed to be surrounded by my people. But four years flew by and sooner than I expected, I found myself looking for a job, otherwise known as dancing for the man. Back to switching the way I talked, the way I carried myself, heck even the way I laughed, to appease and include the non-black company I was in—only this time, it was to tap dance my way into a full-time position in corporate America. It was much different than humoring the curious kids in my high school. Too much swagger in my walk could suggest one of two things: 1) I was one of those fabled black sex kittens or 2) I didn’t have the carriage to represent said company name with professionalism and white bread purity. And one Ebonical slip from me would confirm to them not only my inability to do the job, but the probable incapability of everyone who looked like me. That’s a lot more to think about in a job interview than your basic “where do you see yourself in five years?” line of questioning.

In social situations, in the academic arena, at the office power networking luncheon, at the neighborhood hockey game (and just what are you doing there, anyway?), there stands a good chance that you, too, will be more than just a face in the crowd. (Read: spotlight on the black girl.) So here are three off-the-cuff tips on representing black people in a less than diverse situation:

1. Don’t get too comfortable.

Once, in a conversation with a white woman at an art gallery opening, the talk initially flowed so familiarly and freely that I lost myself and hollered “girllll, please” while we were laughing. She immediately looked perplexed; I immediately felt like a dummy and we parted ways with the quickness. The point is, never become so engrossed with the goings-on that you forget that unspoken but very real rule: be a watered down version of yourself. Stay true to the real you, yes. Just give them you at 45% instead of you at 100, the you you are when you’re around your brown-skinned brothas and sista girls. Someone is bound to oppose this concept (there’s a comment box at the bottom of the page, baby) but sure as last night’s lotto numbers, you’ll lose your connection if you get too Black on ‘em.

2. Shock the crap outta them.

White folks, bless their souls, consciously and subconsciously like to throw curveballs into the conversation to prove their superiority and mental dexterity. They pull out words that regular people just don’t use on a daily basis or random facts to show off all of that sparkly high-end education they’ve received over the years. So it often rocks them down to their Birkenstocks when we can jump into the mental ropes and chop it up about whatever obscure fact or item they’re trying to work into the conversation. It helps to know a little about history, a little about literature and a lot about current events and politics, since those are their favorite subjects to broach.

3. Carry yourself like royalty.

My grandmother always told me this, and I find it to be a dead-on, can’t-even-debate-it-truth: when you know you came from greatness, you act like you came from greatness. Don’t slump, don’t slouch, don’t allow yourself to be visibly intimidated by an Ivy League degree, a holier-than-thou disposition or a complete lack of the filter that generally keeps people from asking the kinds of questions that have been posed to me in the past. Aside from ancient royalty, we have the blood of the most intelligent, charismatic and faithful people pushing us on, so all of that bowing, scraping, cowering and superficial phoniness just isn’t part of our natural black DNA. Stand tall, look everyone dead in the eye and represent.

Author’s Disclaimer: Please understand that there are some big time generalizations at work here and that though I am aware that there are Fergies and Asher Roths and Stephen Baldwins and Jennifer Grahams (my ride-or-die best friend in high school who just so happened to be white), the clueless folks, for the most part, reign supreme.

Andrea says:

June 15, 2009 at 9:40 am

Wow, this was great. So much more eloquent than I could ever express. Being an artist in art school I was always (except for one or two times) the only person of color in all my classes. Actually in grad school I was the only brown face in the entire graduate program at the art school.

I was indeed the Black representative, especially with my natural hair. There are always so many questions and I answered them, yet they still never understand how this hair can come in so many shapes and forms and textures. I won’t even get into the workplace atmosphere. Same Black questions, different approach and territory.

Thanks for a wonderful article. You see, this is the kind of stuff I wish Black in America covered.

↑ Reply

ceecee says:

June 15, 2009 at 10:23 am

I can so relate! Straightforward tips that work like a charm every time I’ve used them.

NinaG says:

June 15, 2009 at 10:40 am

I’m sure many people can relate to your experiences – I know I can, but honestly I’m tired of trying to impress white people or hold myself back around white people. I have a problem with not getting to comfortable around white people and just being very skeptical about their intentions. This has done nothing but inhibit my relationships.

June 15, 2009 at 10:43 am

Oh yeah, have you read ‘Shifting: The Double Lives of Black Women In America’? This is a great book, that details the psych impact of having to code-switch, etc.

Reese says:

June 15, 2009 at 11:14 am

Very well written article and so true! I thought you may know me personally, as I can relate to most of the scenerios in this article. You made my day…thanks!

A*E* says:

June 15, 2009 at 12:45 pm

This is the story of my life! I’ve gone to majority white school all my life (except for college, go Rattlers!) and I can most definitely relate. I’ve also found that ignorance comes in all colors and races too. We shouldn’t have to be the “black ambassador” for white people nor should we have to prove our blackness to each other either.

EnsomCityEmpress says:

June 15, 2009 at 1:14 pm

i totally adhere to all this rules, my fave is shock the hell out of them, which means talk intelligently with thought and accuracy, and blow the stigma out of the water, because you know they have the stereotypes in their mind whether or not they say it.
and another thing i think you forgot to add, play DL on the attitude which includes but limited to: snapping the fingers,tapping the feet,wringing the neck and saying “HMMM MMM”.
I have a very strong Jamaican accent, and they are always shocked when i tell them that i dont smoke marijuana or listen to Bob Marley, that always shocks them.

WonderWoman says:

June 15, 2009 at 5:59 pm

“JUST LIVE YOUR LIFE”. America is a different place,come to Canada. There are going to be stereotypes everywhere but when are you going to move on? Acting paranoid is not the way to go about it. Being articulate and intelligent for blacks is shocking? ummm, wow ’cause most of my teachers were white and they taught me Education was key. Growing up in Canada I see the opposite of what you guys see. Negative stereotypes portrayed by the black communities that blacks here try to fit into to prove their “blackness” or “hipness”…… many black people look at me and turn their noses up because of the way I sound or talk, pick a lane I say. Either we’ve moved on and we’re trying to get ahead or your just moving backwards.

Laquita says:

June 16, 2009 at 10:25 am

Great article, great tips – reminds me of when I was in college.

Rashana says:

June 16, 2009 at 12:03 pm

Love it!

Adrienne says:

June 16, 2009 at 12:46 pm

Hilarious! All the bricked jumpshots had me dying! This was one of faves on this site so far. I am hooked on this site!

Jade says:

June 16, 2009 at 12:56 pm

I freaking love this article! SO true.

Dede @ Clutch says:

June 16, 2009 at 1:01 pm

Janelle you are too funny! All I am going to say is me and you had the same type of background and I can attest and back up these tips 100%.

Jas says:

June 16, 2009 at 2:56 pm

That was a funny article but all too true. I can remember being the only African American in my department at my last job. And boy did I get hit with those questions that oh so badly always wanted to ask but couldn’t until they met me. I remember when I wore flat twists in the front and had my hair out in the back and my co-worker couldn’t understand how I was able to flat twist my hair in the front even though I had a bang. She assumed I had put weave in my hair. I tried explaining to her that weave is not needed to do such a style. She was still confused. Or the time when another colleague assumed I had relaxer in my hair because my hair was straight. I promptly corrected her and told her my hair was free of chemicals and boy was she shocked and surprised. And Andrea, I’m right there with you with the confusion of how Black people can have so many different textures of hair. Like we’re all a carbon copy of one another. One size fits all…NOT! Just like them we come in different sizes, hair textures, complexion and so forth.

In any case, it’s always nice to read articles such as this. Keep ‘em coming!

QBG says:

June 16, 2009 at 9:12 pm

Love it!!! Thanks for sharing this all too familiar story!!!

Donni Doree says:

June 17, 2009 at 10:57 pm

When I was in college at North Carolina Central University, I heard Tavis Smiley speak.. the most important statement of his message (to the majority black college) was “that when you walk in a room, the whole race walks in.” That always sticks in my head when I’m in a room full of clears… Great article, Janelle!

Nikea says:

June 20, 2009 at 2:50 pm

Great Article! I’m glad I’m not the only one who recognizes the type of unsaid but very really pressures of being the spotlight. When I was 15 I moved from inner city Ohio to go to boarding school in bumblefuck CT to get a better education. And the cultural difference was a shocker like no other. I realized some/most of the time I couldn’t just wild out and be me, cuz I was only black person many ppl knew personally. I remember having to explain everything from the black hair thing, to what Friday (the movie) was, to what Bet Television was, which actually turned out to be B.E.T. Even tho this was during high school, probably my most irresponsible years, for the most part I didn’t act out of whack cuz I knew that could become the general consensus of what “all black ppl did” and Lord knows, I’m not the one to follow, but at the end of the day, I didn’t have it in me to not care and be the bad example. It already took these ppl 15 years to meet and actually know a black person, I just wanted to add to the progression at that point.

I think you hit the nail on the head with the ‘don’t get to comfortable,’ section becuz that’s the truest shit I’ve ever read. One time, coming fresh from a vacation back in Ohigh, I was chillin with some of my boarding school pplz and I let the big N slip. One chick literally asked, “did you just call me a (slight dramatic pause) nigga?” Prolly one of the most embarrassing moments of my life, but I haven’t done it since, fair to say I don’t get too comfy too often.

RoyalT says:

June 21, 2009 at 1:55 am

There are just some things that I am so over having to explain to white folks. My hair being the main topic. I’ve had more hairstyles than I care to remember over the last couple of years and of course some of them envolved some extra length that didn’t come from my scalp. I always get “Did you cut your hair?” after I take them out. It’s so old now that I just respond a short “No” and keep it moving.

I don’t feel the need anymore to let in my non-black cohorts on all of our secrets.

Jennifer (Graham) Edmonds says:

June 25, 2009 at 4:42 pm

I had to comment since my name was dropped (now I’M going to have to fight off the paparazzi…thanks!). Being a “clear” myself (LOL Donni Doree), I am definitely guilty of asking questions. But that is because I am curious by nature, whereas I cannot speak for all of the “transparent” population. =) While I can attest to asking questions about cultural differences, I do know that without a friend like Janelle to graciously give me answers, I may still be ignorant to the truths that her and her family have taught me over the years.
That being said, this is a fabulous article. It honestly makes me ill that anyone must tone themselves down to appease society, and the writer-always one to make you think-touched on the subject beautifully. She is such a beautiful, intelligent, honest, insightful, loyal person and I thank God everyday for letting her be in my life. I wouldn’t change a damn thing about her!
Keep it up, Miss Janelle, I’m so proud of you!

SMH says:

June 30, 2009 at 11:40 am

Well, I don’t think I’ve had this issue because I don’t do anything of the things you mentioned “girl please” or “nigga” don’t think I’ve ever said those words in my life. Anyway I think so those are bad habits and it wouldn’t be so much trouble be an ambassador if it was just habit. I don’t mind being and ambassador if I am the only black person it doesn’t take any extra effort. It’s probably more difficult to deviate because I’ve been like that my whole life. I think its because I grew up around a lot of white people and never was part of African American culture like that; I grew up with just my Jamaican and Latin and “White” culture.

Anyway, I believe that it shouldn’t be such an effort to be an ambassador because your trying to prove black people aren’t what they picture them to be why do you have to work so hard to not do certain things? If your actually the way you portray yourself. I just wanted to put that out there but good article I just don’t really relate but I was curious. Sometimes, I’m pretty ignorant about African American culture which is sort of annoying when I’m in a new situation with other white people and they ask me questions that have to do with African American or Southern Black culture. I just kindly say I’m Jamaican and Cuban anything you want to know about those cultures I’m more likely to be able to help you. Oh and I’m natural so usually get a comment about that which is fine with me.

Mr. Hardy says:

July 4, 2009 at 1:50 am

now this article was some real slick talk mama. pleasw translate to those people you speak of

AC says:

July 11, 2009 at 7:18 pm

This article is awesome. You just told the story of my life. I’ve definitely had to make some adjustments after graduating from an HBCU & now finishing grad school at a majority institution, & looking employment in a majority job market. It’s true about being a watered down version of yourself…my mom & grandparents always said “they don’t need to know everything about you, even though they’ll tell you their whole life story.” It’s frustrating b/c the fact that you have to be ‘less of yourself’ is just proof that we’re not in a post-racial society as some Whites claim in attempting make me feel guilty for my guardedness. This line is especially more difficult to dance now because of how much smaller & more intimate the world is via online social networks…it’s easy to forget the rules on facebook/myspace/twitter. Knowing someone casually gives license to send a friends request…opening up images & details of your life, hobbies, & interests to some people who would have never had access to that information before.

Kat says:

July 20, 2009 at 4:33 pm

Pfft. This article is lame with a capial L. I don’t jump thru hoops for anyone. But I have freaked out some white people by my punk rock/goth look, spaz to rock music and really freak them out over some heavy metal (the kind that makes your ears bleed). Bring on the death metal, woooooo! They’re surprised at me at my musical choices and style of dress. Why?!?!?! Maybe I don’t want to dress like the people on BET. Punk rock isn’t just for white people. Heck, if it weren’t for Ike Turner, Chuck Berry, or Little Richard, we wouldn’t have rock music, ok???

I do have a notion to b*tch slap some ignorant idiot when rap comes on the radio and I get asked about it. Fool! I don’t listen to rap! But I know some white people that are OBSESSED with it and know every song on the radio and who the artists are. They’re blacker than me (wink)!

Nicole says:

July 31, 2009 at 2:13 am

I’ve found the best way to be a “representative” is to not be one. Represent yourself, be yourself, and the rest will follow. Don’t even attempt to speak for anyone else and if that notion even comes up, I quickly clarify my thoughts are my own and my own only.

Lady_Detroit says:

August 2, 2009 at 6:44 pm

Welcome to the story of my life! I definetely don’t get too comfortable at work. Ppl will share their ENTIRE life stories (infertility issues, medical history, life at home — an unemployed, lazy husband, family outings, on occassion their sex lives) and I just can’t take it. “[Insert Name], you’re always so secretive! You never talk about yourself!”…yea because I don’t want all my business in the streets, you are not my FRIENDS you are my co-workers, and my personal life hardly has anything to do w/ me performing my job effectively. (Rolls eyes) lol.

I definetely enjoyed this article though. Since I love to read and pride myself on staying abreast of current events locally, nationally, and internationally, I STAY droppin’ knowledge when the occassion presents itself!

Jane says:

August 3, 2009 at 5:46 pm

I LOVE this article. I am the only African American in my department…as a matter of fact the only Black person on the second floor…only 1 of 3 Blacks that work in the office building…(there’s probably about 10 of us all together office and warehouse workers included)….

And I find myself constantly listening to my coworkers give me the “Black girl voice” only when they are speaking to me… and my supervisor using the phrase “all good in the hood” and the gentleman in the cubicle next to me giving me the “Heeeyyyy GUUURRRRLLL” when I come in from lunch….

It drives me to complete insanity!

MS. COMPLEXITY says:

August 22, 2009 at 9:47 am

This was a GREAT article – especially the royalty bit. My mentor once told me “WALK IN LIKE YOU OWN THE PLACE!” And that’s what I do when I’m at work. That place is MINE!

Kitty says:

September 8, 2009 at 11:38 pm

Thank you for this article! I’m a dark skinned Puerto Rican (I’ve been thought of as black by others including other Latinos unless I start speaking Spanish) and I’ve been in some of those situations all my life. Thank you so much for the help.

Amanda says:

September 22, 2009 at 9:44 pm

LOVE this article! I did my master’s in Coventry in the United Kingdom and even though I knew it would be a culture shock… it was… a shock.

I’m from a small Caribbean island that is like 95% black so going to Cov which is probably 90% white was such a major shift.

I was the only black girl in my class and I definitely experienced most of those things you mention (except the superiority complex bit – liberal white Brits are waaayyyy too polite and politically correct to even give off a whiff of that).

But most of all I experienced… the hair thing. I have dreadlocks which were just about nape length when I went there and my hair CAPTIVATED people – they had seen braids and straightened hair but I think I was the only black woman at the university with dreads – the only one I saw at least.

Once, I flat-twisted my locks so that they all laid down on my head and I looked as if I had a short do. My classmates nearly passed out. Everyone thought I had cut my hair and when I pulled one of my locks out of the twist to show that it was all still there, it was like I had pulled a rabbit out of a damn hat. They couldn’t comprehend it.

ChinyereCouture says:

October 13, 2009 at 1:41 pm

Oh. Lord. This is SO true especially the “give them 45%” part.
I’ve gone to white schools my ENTIRE LIFE, but God bless Jack & Jill, because without that organization my name might as well be Becky. I’m a senior at a small, predominantly white private school, and as the only black girls until about a year ago, I was expected to be the quintessential Shaniqua. People literally called me that. I don’t really care, because I’ve been here so long that everyone knows I’m not loud, crass, or even the least bit ghetto (Okay, maybe a little loud, but cut me a break), so it’s basically become a joke. But when last year, another black girl came (Speak of the Devil, she just walked into the library), and fulfilled their wishes and expectations of what a Black female “should be”. (Jesus, she’s sitting next to me.) She took alot of the weight off of me to live up to something I will never be. All of these rules here are exactly what I’ve been doing the last 4 years (took me a WHILE to get it) and I want all of y’all to know that I’m applying to Howard this Fall. Mhmm-hmm. A girl can only take so much. NOW I GOTTA GO BEFORE SHE LOOKS AT MY SCREEN.

October 13, 2009 at 1:44 pm

OH, and the whole hair thing. THAT I learned in elementary school.
(After taking out braids/weave)
Becky: “Did you cut your hair?”
Me: “Sure.”
Now, I just got my weave redone, and I told people I “got my ‘extensions’ redone.”
They’ll take that answer, no problem. They do that shit too.

somebody out there says:

November 21, 2009 at 8:01 pm

What you’re describing is called a “pattern interrupt”.