Essay On Blackness

For all intents and purposes, I am Black; proudly so. I am NOT African-American. No doubt, I am a person of color, but I do not allow myself to claim a whole continent's worth of heritages, cultures, traditions, backgrounds, and customs. Recognizing that a vast portion of my heritage was lost to history, my use of the umbrella term Black is magnanimous. My direct lineage is unclear. My family has become a large melting pot of many different groups of people. But to America, I am Black; proudly so. Often times, it is difficult to find makeup colors that compliment my brown skin complexion, or hair products that are aimed towards my kinky-curly-coarse hair. As a result of recent events, like the police killings of multiple unarmed Black people, I often

times fear for my community. Becoming anxious when I catch sight of police officers is habitual. Yet, would I give up being Black if I could? There's not a chance. Recently, "The Bluest Eye" by Toni Morrison was assigned to me for reading and analyzing. This was the first time I had been assigned a novel written by a Black person about Black people in school. It took my last year of high school to be assigned literature that I could directly relate to. Often times, people who aren't of color don't comprehend the true meaning of Blackness. To some, Blackness is something that can be patently put on and taken off.

Blackness has more face value than just the amount of melanin in one's skin. The culmination of my people's songs, dances, hairstyles, clothes, slang, etc created a force that extends far beyond the domain of the favorable reception that it actually receives. Blackness, it seems, is a cultural phenomenon. It's "trendy." It's "cool." Cultural appropriation will never sit right with me. When I see Eurocentric models strutting down high fashion runways with cornrows in their hair, I grow more disheartened with society. Black hairstyles, like dreadlocks or cornrows, on the heads of Black people lead to no jobs and prejudiced stereotyping. Black hairstyles on the heads of white people lead to New York, Paris, and Milan Fashion Week. Why is my Blackness acceptable only for people who are not Black? Miley Cyrus dances provocatively and plunges the world into the era of dancing sexually, freely and carelessly. Nicki Minaj performs in a similar fashion and is condemned for her actions. Kylie Jenner receives lip fillers to achieve fuller, poutier lips; takes the world by storm. An internet trend is even created to mimic her borderline exasperating

look. However, as a child, I was often mocked for the size and fullness of my lips. Why is America so afraid of my Blackness? Even as a small child, I understood the consequences and significance of the shade of my skin. As a kid in middle schooler, I struggled severely with self-acceptance and self-image, often times wishing I was Caucasian with straight, blonde hair and blue eyes. As I matured, the more accepting of the person i'm stuck being I became. Now, I love my Blackness. My chief goal is to spread awareness. I want people to realize that Blackness is not something that can be flippantly tossed around. I want people to understand the feeling I get when I see white people getting kudos and praised for things that Black people have been doing for years. I simply want people to stop attempting to flatten the real issue at hand. When everything else has been stolen, I simply want to be selfish with my Blackness.