Spokesperson

I'm not sure if I've ever written about this but I'm pretty sure I haven't. Last night I went out with some coworkers and awaited to hear comments I knew were brewing behind curious eyes. Bar settings seem to be a breeding ground for socially-charged conversation that is normally a little uncomfortable/awkward? The conversation got interesting when we started talking about guys, what type of guys we were into and other fun dating-related subject matter. When I tell people my "preference"it doesn't seem to be met with too much surprise, but it is met with unbridled assumption that I somehow hate myself or think I'm disconnected from my heritage, which is I assure you not the case. It's an understandable conclusion to draw, but it simply is not true. However, this was not what got under my skin. What really irritated me is the notion that every single black person is a spokesperson for their entire race. I was asked why a lot of gay black men prefer white men. Um. Ok. I have no idea. Number one I am not a gay black man, but even if I was there is no possible way for me to conceive the thoughts and actions of all gay black men no matter how smart or informed I thought I was. I honestly enjoy talking about race, but in a situation like this with a presumptuous (unintentional I know) leaning it's hard to have a desire to continue the discourse.

I had a conversation with one of my friends about how the world perceives me and my ongoing battle with my indifference towards the world's perception. I am me. I can be no one else and considering how short life is I don't want to be anyone else. It's too hard to conform when conforming means losing yourself. And I'm not saying by any means that I'm "different" or "better" in any way shape or form. All I'm saying is that I can be nothing else or more than who I am. It's devastating to realize that individuality is a privilege- a privilege denied to many, many people. My face is suppose to represent every African American person (not even just women apparently) without question or doubt. My utterances carry the weight of my entire race- my history, my ancestors, strangers, people I know, people I'll never meet, people who hate me, people who love me, etc. You get it. Imagine having THAT much pressure on yourself every day you present yourself to the world.

I forget not everyone took race/sociology classes in college and aren't aware of certain societal constructs, rules, stupid "normalcy" that we're taught oh so subtlety. So I am by no means mad at this person for asking me such a loaded question, more disheartened by the reality that most people see nothing wrong with asking questions like that in mixed company... or ever really.

And as a tribute to the late Amy Winehouse...

RIP girl.





I'm out.