A Monolithic Tension
“Blackness is not a monolith!”
This is a common refrain heard loudest from the mouths of Black people desiring for their differences to not be flattened and overlooked by non-black audiences who often call us by each others names if more than one of us happens be in the same room. This has always been a phenomenon that has perplexed me given the vast nature in which Black people visually exist but that is an article for another day.
It is an inherently human trait to want to be seen as different and unique, no matter one’s background. But for Black people, there is a more dire undertone to the plea- one that exists within an inescapable vortex where meaning has no room to be negotiated and stereotypes are commonplace. Here, being Black equates to running on an endless hamster wheel to avoid reductive generalizations that don’t even begin to identify who we actually or have the to potential to become. When Black people scream to the world that we are not a monolith it is because what we desire more than anything is to be fully seen and heard for who we are instead of boiled down to the most extravagant or worst signs, symbols and meanings of what society has decided to associate with the color of our skin.
This hamster wheel has created an crushing tension within Black people as we we find ourselves in a fruitless war with one another when it comes to how we label ourselves and the behaviors, habits and traditions we are expected to participate in. Feeding this tension is our desire to be recognized as unique from one another by outsiders while also adhering to the invisible rules of belonging in Black culture where we are to remain loyal to an often singular set of identity codes. Essentially, while we push on one end to have our diversity recognized by non-blacks, on the other end exists a more foreboding menace that resides within our own communities where we are often chastised, ridiculed and made fun of for even considering an existence outside of the core tenants of Blackness and Black culture.
The result is a stagnant meaning and definition of Blackness that stifles evolution, and diversity in our existence when anything other than cultural familiarity enters our public squares. It is this very dichotomy that makes statements like “Blackness is not a monolith” not only difficult for outsiders to recognize (not that they are trying hard to do so in the first place), but also impossible for those within Black culture to agree to when there is an overarching expectation to behave within a certain “allowable framework” of Black identity.
Our Need for Sameness is Rooted in Survival
Given how Black people have historically been grouped together, monolithic Blackness made sense when it first emerged. When one slave acted out of turn, we were all punished. When one Black town decided to become its own successful entity, everyone was, quite literally killed. When one Black figure in the civil rights movement did something to upset the government, the communities and neighborhoods (s)he was associated with were quite literally destroyed. In the past, we were punished and slaughtered en masse so often that monolithic Blackness had to exist so that we could save ourselves and one another. Coming together, despite our very diverse origins and cultural traits was quite literally a means of survival. It was imperative that our ancestors mute the parts of themselves that were different and abide by an unspoken behavioral code for the cause of being seen as human and deserving of freedom and fundamental rights. This would serve as the key formula that other disparate groups of color learned to take on for themselves when advocating for their own human rights.
But in even in those efforts to be seen as one, holes still existed within the foundation as society found ways to place us in hierarchies against one another. Meaning some of us were allowed to momentarily touch the hem of white society and bathe in the privilege of a life without repercussion and strife. While were weren’t granted full access to those privileges, once we could taste such a seemingly elusive future, many of us (along with many other non-black people of color) have been on a race to associate with whiteness as much as possible with the goal of guaranteeing an easier life of access.
This worked over time to set the stage for a less unified version of Blackness and Black identity.
Evolution in the Black Community Can Feel Like Terrorism
For Blackness to truly exist along a spectrum it must allow room for differing opinions and actions. But to allow such an act can feel like cultural sabotage from figures who present themselves as moving against our best interests as a whole. But, if we are truly to be considered diverse in range, then we can not also work to mute these perspectives either.
In the past, we had singular leaders speaking on our behalf because our very lives depended on it, and because they were the ones wider society deemed allowable to speak for us. Today, given the multitude of platforms and ways we can speak for ourselves, this formula and approach is no longer relevant. After controversial remarks were made from a famous rapper, American News Commentator Van Jones took it upon himself to apologize on behalf of all Black people for the rapper’s statements. This was quickly met with commentary from Black culture experts who felt as though Van Jones did not represent them or their ideals- whether or not they agreed with the apology.
Gone are the days when Reverend AL Sharpton or Don King could represent the whole- today we have delegates of many and this is not necessarily a bad thing. One prominent figure speaking for all quite simply cannot be the case when so much of who we are exists so diversely.
The Act of Distancing
When we double click into the reasons why some of us insist on being seen as less monolithic, we would likely uncover the intentional “othering” that is at play, where we say with conviction, “they are not like me, I am not like those ones over there”. This is not stated in a tone of reverence but instead of shame, disgust, disappointment and dismay. A cognizant distancing in these instances is paramount for keeping ones credibility in Black culture.
In our world, being different can automatically paint you as wanting to be White, as being anti-Black, not belonging, as a bed wench or an Oreo (the list goes on and on). While some scenarios and situations may warrant such labels and critiques, we can not continue to ignore the complex nuances involved in such a reductive labeling structure.
We can see some of this play out in real time with controversial figures like Candace Owens and Herschel Walker – individuals seemingly breaking away from popular views in Black culture even though their perspectives are likely more prevalent than we may want to give credence to. It shows up in other ways as well, as in the case of Megan Markel who has been ridiculed for how she labels herself- a biracial woman raised in, by all means, a bicultural world. The very act of labeling herself biracial, despite the fact that this is her truth, is seen as an active rejection of Blackness or as an attempt to remove herself from it, even though she’s simply reporting the facts of her upbringing. It is the treatment she eventually faces from British press that reminds her of what so many Black Americans know- that the one drop rule will always prevail and that, no matter how you see yourself, others will always see you as Black first. Ironically, we are the ones who are guilty of continuing the oppressive tactics of whites when we work overtime to remind Black people who may dare see themselves as different (not necessarily as less Black) that they are no better than those of us who have become used to our skin color being tied to the negative meanings associated with Blackness.
And so this brings forth a different type of distancing- the kind that comes with most amount of ridicule and naysaying. But when you feel as though you cannot exist as your full self within your own culture, the answer is to retreat or dissociate. For these individuals, the goal soon becomes self-preservation from the very community they are meant to call “home”. The penalty for daring to look, behave or label yourself other than what is expected to you is a self-induced ostracization which often happens when individuals find themselves not Black enough to fit in. Eventually, the only way they know to validate their choices is to double down until they are seemingly cornered into a world of loathing their own kind- a revolving nightmare that they can’t get out of because they no longer remember a time that existed before it. And so they are forced to navigate a new type of identity predicated on the basis of rejection.
I’d argue that it is often not a preference for Black people in the margins of their own culture to exist here- in this no man’s land of belonging. But it is instead a sort of last resort to find a sense of home elsewhere, even though they know they may never truly belong anywhere or at all.
Honoring Black Culture While Making Room For Change
African America culture was forged and crystallized overtime from the pain and strife of people we will never truly know. This is likely why it is so heavily guarded and gatekept. It is a truly unique and special world to belong to and in a time where black culture is increasingly encroached upon there is an urgent need to keep it sacred, and safe from the dilutive tendencies of gentrification and its ability to obfuscate the most cherished parts of who we are. This fact, along with how Black people in America have historically been treated are key drivers for the sustaining of monolithic tendencies in Black culture. It gives us something to belong to- something to be tethered to.
At the same time, Blackness in American is changing and, if we are truly being honest with ourselves, the ability to exist differently and as we truly are is what our ancestors were fighting for in the first place. The act of labeling yourself as different should be interpreted as an act against Blackness and/or Black culture, but instead as an act of discovery and self-actualization. It is well known that in America, most Black people will eventually be treated as less than. For most of us who choose to explore an identity outside of the traditional confines of Black culture, this fact is not lost on us. Until we are all free to negotiate who we are, and which identity parameters we belong to (vs. the ones that are foisted upon us) we will never be able to realistically convince anyone that Blackness is not a monolith.
It’s time to let it go.