Stuff black folks don’t do: Creating our own oppression

By Guest Contributor Tami, originally published at What Tami Said

I’ve been thinking about Max Reddick’s post, “Oh, the places we could go…,” which we crossposted last week on Love Isn’t Enough:

A couple of months or so ago at the end of the summer, my wife and I planned a trip with a few other African American couples we know just to have one last bit of fun before summer ended. When we first conceived of the idea, we bandied about several suggestions, but all of them seemed so absolutely done.

Someone suggested a cookout at the beach, but I was beached out, and I don’t particularly find the beach all that fun. Of course, Disney and/or Universal Studios in Orlando were offered, but we go to Orlando several times a year already so that was out. And in that same vein, someone suggested Busch Gardens in Tampa, but that too was voted down.

Then my wife suggested that we go somewhere and do something none of us had ever done, something unlikely. And we finally decided on a destination and an activity. But on the eve of our trip, one by one the couples and families called us to say that they had to cancel, that they would not be going. And each couple and family proffered the same excuse: “We all talked and decided that that’s just something black folk don’t do.”

Evidently, all of the black folk got together, or at least enough to form a quorum, and decided that black folk didn’t do such things. Read more…

I thought about this–what black folk don’t do–while driving to and from Washington, D.C. this week. I love a good road trip. Driving allows a glimpse of the country and the way people live in a way that flying over does not. There are so many hidden treasures to be found–kitschy shops, little towns nestled in the mountains, frozen in time. Of course, you also see the bad, not just charming Americana. But the bad–the urban blight and rural poverty–are as much a part of the American story as the good. Perhaps we would be better at governing our country if we took time to stretch our legs in another person’s space from time to time–stand on a corner in a city deserted by industry or have lunch in one of those picturesque old-fashioned towns with flags lining mainstreet. It’s all America.

When I was a kid, I had this dream of driving cross-country in a really cool convertible. I haven’t achieved that dream exactly, but, in our 20s, my girlfriends and I took annual 10-day road trips during the summer. We piled in a rented minivan and did it on the cheap. We slept five or six to a room and ate at inexpensive local places. Our goal was exploration. We’d pick a direction–east, south or west–and plot points along the way where we might want to spend a day or two. If we saw a sign for a little-known historical sight or the world’s biggest ball of twine along our route, and seeing it struck our fancy, we’d head off down the trail. On the way to New Orleans, we took a detour to see the campus of Ole Miss, because of its place in civil rights history. On the way to Vegas, we toured the Painted Desert and Petrified Forest. I count that time touring the country with my girls among the best times in my live. We had a ball, learned a lot and saw amazing things. There was one night, driving through Texas and New Mexico on a desolate, dark road with the moon shining full, tinting everything blue, that I will never forget.

There is another thing I will not soon forget: That nearly everyplace we went, the Grand Canyon; Salem, MA; Tombstone, AZ; the Garden District of New Orleans; we were the only black people there. Not surprising, I guess, because when I talked about my travel plans with black friends and coworkers I received the same message that Max did: “Black folk just don’t do that.”

I know that I occupy a privileged place in many ways. My family took trips when I was growing up. I am educated and have a career path that allows me to take a couple weeks off to travel. I have the resources to afford travel. I know not every other black person can claim these things. But, the thing is, the people I was talking to could. These were eduated black professionals with knowlege of all the places they could go and the resources to get there. Black people are less prohibited in our ability to move about this country today than we have ever been. So where did the idea come from that even if we have the ability we are not to allowed to explore the country our ancestors built with their sweat and blood?

Where do notions of what black folks do and do not do come from? Have we been so tempered by racism that even when we aren’t faced with racial restrictions, we create our own?

Rightfully, a lot of ink and effort is expended on pointing out the lack of equity between black people and the majority culture in education, good housing, safety, opportunity and other resources. But I think we don’t talk enough about what happens once those things are achieved, at least in part.

We cannot stand at the rim of the Grand Canyon–one of the seven wonders of the world–because “black folks don’t do that.” We cannot travel overseas. We can’t be marine biologists. We can’t listen to rock music.

It’s like that grasshopper in the jar story (which could be total BS) that says if you catch a grasshopper and place it in a jar with a lid on it that eventually the grasshopper will eventually tire of smacking against the jar lid and will stop trying to get out. You can eventually remove the lid and rest comfortably knowing that the grasshopper will not escape.

Through most of our history in this country black people have lived within limits imposed by the majority culture. And, I should add, as we discuss often on this blog, we still do live with limits. It worries me to see those limits embraced as “black culture.” Take away the limitations and there will still be things we will not allow ourselves to do, even when they are good for us. We will create our own oppression. Every time we say “black folk don’t do (fill in the blank),” we become complicit in our own bondage, barriers to our own freedom.

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Photo Credit: Ranjay Mitra

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Comments

  1. Eva wrote:

    Wow, I went cross country when I was a child in 1972 with my church, we ate at every Denny’s from east to west.

    I was always one of those people who felt that no one could tell me what I could and couldn’t do. I live in NYC, anything can happen here. If I thought about all the things that could happen, I’d never leave my apartment.

  2. Jadey wrote:

    That grasshopper in a jar story is probably true. It’s called the condition of learned helplessness, originally tested on dogs in electrified shock boxes, and later found in human responses in less artificial situations. It’s a facet of learning, where, after being in a situation where one cannot escape or cannot control the situation, eventually most people will give up trying, even if the situation changes to allow escape. It’s linked to depression and is essentially a coping mechanism of last resort (better to give up than continually have one’s hopes dashed), and it’s more than likely very applicable to this conversation. (Clearly, the condition is neither irreversible nor universal. It’s just a behavioural phenomenon.)

  3. MyEyesSee wrote:

    “Black people don’t ___.” is one of my biggest pet peeves.

    From listening to rock n’ roll to watching the Winter Olympic games to following the space program to collecting stamps to white water rafting. I’ve heard it all and it saddens me because folks don’t get that they’re limiting themselves. If white folks told us we couldn’t ___ we’d be up in arms.

    This is truly one of the saddest things about my peeps. The good news is that I’m from a family that said the world is for me and doggone it, I live full out and explore whatever interests me. I’m not letting anyone dictate my tastes and pursuits, although it often makes one an oddity in the community. (Sigh)

  4. in a land w/o sea wrote:

    reading this, i’m reminded of gil scott-heron’s riff on why there were no black people in the movie “jaws”….

    brown immigrant child that i am, my parents encouraged all the cultural stuff, museums and the symphony and the like. i’m sure there’s a little bit of colonial mindset there: “it’s from europe, it must be good.” we never went camping, though, or skiing on any kind of surface. in retrospect, i think that my parents considered such things “dangerous” and couldn’t fathom why someone would deliberately place themselves in harm’s way.

    and when i was 16, my (US born) cousin ran off to join the sandinistas (this is what she told me; what really happened is that she hung out with other americans in managua, drinking rum and dreaming of revolution). i begged my father to let me go with her, and his response to me was: if you want to see poor people, go back to the philippines!

    i realized then for the first time how privileged i was to be able to have such choices.

  5. Sean wrote:

    Interesting post, Tami.

    I was (and still am) one of those “I can do anything, be anything, and go anywhere I want to” types. And I do remember having to deal with the ‘we don’t do that’ type of resistance.

    When I rode Metro, I personally couldn’t fathom why a group of young black dudes would get on the bus, then deliberately go sit in the back. I figured “Well after years of being told where we can and can’t sit, if these guys DECIDE to ride in the back, then Rosa Parks’ sacrifice helped make it so. Who am I to question?”

    It was all good until the self-appointed, gate-keepers of authentic blackness (GKOAB) started giving me grief over the way I chose to live MY life.

    “You a science major? Nerd!”
    “You listen to this? Are you a white man in disguise?”
    “You used to live in South Dakota??? Ewwww… I hear they’re a bunch of racists over there.”

    …and the old perrenial nugget:

    “You talk like a white boy.”

    ARGGGGHHHH!!!!

    Well, I’ll just invoke the side of me that the GKOAB didn’t approve, by invoking that song by Creed: something to do with creating our own prisons.

    So in the spirit of seeing if I measure up to GKOAB standards I’ll check off a few items to see if I’m really black or not (tongue firmly in cheek):

    I don’t like basketball.
    demerit.

    I can’t swim.
    point.

    I like (old school) rap
    point.

    I like Chopin and Bach’s sonatas and partitas.
    demerit 5 points.

    Lost count on how many times I’ve been stopped by police without cause.
    10 points.

    I actually wear my pants around my waist.
    demerit 3 points.

    Never bungee-jumped.
    2 points.

    Went ice fishing on a frozen lake.
    demerit.

    Just how these folks ascertain what’s black or not is just plain asinine to me.

  6. lunanoire wrote:

    People who can and do take advantage of travel, etc. can have a great time expanding their experiences. I was a former synchronized swimmer who saw no one else who looked like me save for one teammate, even in out-of-state competitions.

    Let’s remember the social price to pay for participating in not-stereotypically-black activities. Many people are unwilling to pay that price, so ignore some of their curiosities or participate in secret. Being “the only one” or “one of a handful” gets old for some, though others thrive on it.

    Being on the team took me to a town with a famed aquarium and my first and only sunburn in AZ. I also received dirty looks when a team member was stealing from people’s swim bags.

    Isn’t this the flip side of an earlier post about how some white people feel entitled to go wherever and do whatever, including attend sacred rituals for insiders only, or enter a special birthing hut for mothers and mothers-to-be as a man?

  7. A.D. Nix wrote:

    @ MyEyesSee
    Um, WORD.

    I think so much of this self-circumscribing and in-group policing is motivated by fear and anxiety. And “authentic” blackness is supposed to be above both. So, rather than admit to trepidation, let’s just say it’s something that black folks don’t do. I can’t because I’m black, not because I’m scared or intimidated because I can’t be scared or intimidated because I’m black. And, biggest fear of all – someone calling your blackness into question. Better to toe the line than risk going out of bounds.

    This really reminds me of some of the conversations here re: Covering.

    I thank my stars everyday that I was raised by two dorks who never hesitated to do whatever they wanted (within their means), Haters and Authenticators be damned.

  8. Deaf Indian Muslim Anarchist wrote:

    I don’t know if this has something to do with this post, but my best friend (who is a black male) often jokes about how black Americans don’t go camping, fishing, hiking, or other “redneck” activities (as he calls it).

    He said it after I told him we should totally go fishing because I’d never fished before.

    But guess what? Desi Americans dont’ fish, either!! None of my Desi friends have gone fishing, camping, hiking, etc. either…

    I’m still looking for someone who wanna go fishing, camping, hiking, shooting, and all that outdoors-y stuff with me.

  9. Azizi wrote:

    I wonder how much our [Black people's] failure to tests ourselves in different recreational settings has to do with race fatigue-that is wanting and needing a break from having to deal with the stress of being “the only one” (meaning the only Black person) or one of very few Black people in a particular setting. Note that I wrote “race” and not “racism” fatigue. My definition for “race fatigue” means being tired of interacting in a setting where you are identified by your race or ethnicity (using the USA definition of Latino/Hispanic for “ethnicity”, though perhaps other definitions of ethnicity might apply. I think that “religious affiliation fatigue” and “gender orientation” fatigue might also be similar forms of this type of fatigue such as being the only Muslim in a particular setting or being the only gay person in a particular setting).

    To share what may be comparable non-recreational examples- I definitely felt race fatigue when I was one of three Black women dorm residents at a small private college in the mid to late 1960s (There were also three Black men who were dorm residents. If the adminstrators thought that this would mean that the none of the Black male students would date the White students, that plan failed).

    A number of times I’ve been the only Black person or one of very few Black people in non-recreational settings such as a member of non-profit task forces & boards. And I was the only self-identified Person of Color on a folk music blog (although that blogging was supposed to have been a leisure time activity). In these types of settings, after a while, I got tired of being tired of even well meaning racial comments (like the comments from other women in that college dorm about why I was greasing my hair.) But on the other hand, I also got very tired of addressing the rose-colored “there is no such thing as race” attitudes/comments and the overt racism on that blog.)

    My point is that sometimes self-segregation is talking control and I don’t mean this in the negative, learned helpless sense that Jadey mentioned in her (his?) comment above.

    I think that many Black people not involving themselves in recreational activities and settings where there aren’t a “comfortable” number of other Black people [whatever that number is] has to do with why and how we build & defend our comfort zones. Most of us have to deal with being identified by our race at our workplace. We also have to deal with being identified by race-or the possibility of having to deal with race/racism during many other daily interactions such as shopping, and even driving while black. I think we need times and spaces where we have a break from dealing with race. I think we need times when we can kick back and RELAX and not worry about anything race related what so ever. I think involving ourselves in activities or vacation spots where there is likely to be no other or few other Black people means that we will have to be on guard (or at least still be the “designated Black person”) whether we want to be in that role or not. Being the only Black person means that we may be asked to “translate” what other Black people in the news said or meant by their actions. Also, being the only Black person means that may be no other person whose got your back if s*it goes down-either verbally or physically. I don’t think those concerns can be discounted, though-unfortunately-the notion that another Black person would have another Black person’s back in such settings is likely not real…

    I think another reason why many Black people aren’t in to activities that they regard as “not what Black people do” is that we have a low tolerance for taking the risk of being embarrassed among non-Black people (the embarassment might be felt because [through lack of experience] we can’t do a certain activity well-yet.

    I’m not saying that these reasons for not going outside our comfort zone are right. I definitely think that people should expand their comfort zones, take risk, and challenge ourselves. But I also think we have to be real about why people may not do so.

    This said, I’m sure my conclusions about this subject are ‘colored’ by my growing up in segregated New Jersey in the 1950s and living in Western Pennsylvania from the late 1960s to date. I learned from the 2008 presidential primaries that these two states may be more racist than other parts of the USA.

    I’ll be interested in reading posts about this topic from people living in other parts of the USA and elsewhere.

  10. Serious wrote:

    I treat these moments as teaching ones and push back heavily on people who makes comments like this out of ignorance. Even if they dismiss me, at least I’ve stated a line of argumentation that they’re not likely to hear as much as they should.

  11. Eva wrote:

    @Azizi

    You make a very good point. I think if you substitute “black” for “woman” you’ll also find apprehension. I think it’s about not wanting to be in a situation where you might not feel safe.

    I once worked with a black woman (only in her 30’s) who told me that she was NEVER going to have a passport because she wasn’t ever going to leave the US. I wonder how much of that is based on someone, maybe even a family member telling her that as a black woman she can’t just think she can travel the same way a white woman can.

  12. Val wrote:

    @Azizi

    I agree with you. I also don’t get why Black people who don’t want to do things that Whites have traditionally done are put down for it. Are Whites put down for not doing things that Black people do?

    Also I think that many Black people don’t want to spend hundreds or thousands of dollars to travel or pursue activities where they may face the same racism they face on a daily basis at home.

    Finally I think that many Black parents pass down a certain cynicism about doing certain things because of bad experiences they may have had.

  13. PPR_Scribe wrote:

    I can’t speak to all instances of “Black people don’t _____” But part of what is going on when Black friends do this to each other is a kind of social policing.

    When my family gets together with other middle class Black families, we have formed a sort of space of belonging. We are safe in a way that we often cannot be in mixed-income Black groupings, or middle-income mixed race/majority White groupings. But that safety is, I believe, seen as pretty fragile. Doing something that would test this fragility has the potential of destroying one of our few safe places.

    In such contexts, I think saying “We (Blacks) don’t do that” is really protecting that space, and through that space protecting a racial authenticity.

    Perhaps the same can be said of other social groupings–for example, with lower income POC. But in those cases I think lack of prior exposure, disposable income, etc play a bigger role. What is interesting to me is when this happens among Blacks who *do* have the education, prior experience of being “the only,” income, time, etc.

  14. PPR_Scribe wrote:

    Isn’t this the flip side of an earlier post about how some white people feel entitled to go wherever and do whatever, including attend sacred rituals for insiders only, or enter a special birthing hut for mothers and mothers-to-be as a man?

    Yes, I think you’ve hit on something. On the other site where this appeared some were wondering what the “White equivalent” to this would be. Perhaps there is no “equivalent” but this entitlement notion is the other side of the same coin.

  15. pololly wrote:

    Agree 100% with Azizi.

    I understand we can always point fingers at the black community and black individuals for ‘oppressing ourselves’ but there is race fatigue, there is racism fatigue and there are also plenty of white people policing the line as well.

    It’s funny that some people brought up the ‘black people don’t swim’ line – how long ago was the trouble over some black kids playing in a country club pool? Last year? Doesn’t sound like it is just something passed down from ‘generation to generation’ to me.

    “I think another reason why many Black people aren’t in to activities that they regard as “not what Black people do” is that we have a low tolerance for taking the risk of being embarrassed among non-Black people (the embarassment might be felt because [through lack of experience] we can’t do a certain activity well-yet.”

    Exactly. It doesn’t help when anything you do is considered to reflect on ALL other black people as well. So if you can’t swim well, it’s because black people don’t swim. If you don’t golf well, it’s because black people can’t golf. If you are ‘loud’…

  16. Dion wrote:

    I’ve heard this phrase oh so many times. As a young black male who sang in a heavy metal band (yes, loud, screaming, circle pit, moshing, head banging, ultra political heavy metal music) for several years, I heard permutations of this phrase a thousand times over. “Black people don’t listen to metal!” I always found it funny though that often times more than not, it was other black people making the statement. I never understood then, nor do I today, why we so often choose to pigeonhole ourselves, and put up our own walls to enjoyment, enlightment, and new experience.

  17. pololly wrote:

    @PRR Scribe

    I love this post (13). I hope I’m reading you correctly but making it explicit/going even further;

    On destroying the group dynamic
    Every single person in that room knows that there are compromises, frustrations and humiliations with being a POC in this world but that we cannot be perfect. There are times when we wish that we had called out a racist remark or not been cowed by a rude or cold attitude. But it’s difficult to know how you are going to react until you are in that moment. The one saving grace is that most of these humiliations are *silent*. When you are frustrated, angry and just plain tired of it – at least you don’t have to sit there *knowing* that *they* know. But leaving the ’safe space’, leaving the comfort zone with other POC: if there’s an issue there are witnesses. If you fail, or you slink away or even if you tell them straight – someone else witnesses your humiliation and *knows*. Maybe they thought you weren’t strong enough, maybe they think you’re a sellout or maybe they think you overreacted or that you aren’t articulate enough or smart enough and that you just failed black people. That’s the burden we POC face.

    That’s why a lot of people like to be the ‘only’. Let’s be honest – let’s say someone lets me know that just by the virtue of being black I am not welcome into what they see as their space, sometimes I don’t care. Many times I’m angry. But sometimes it hurts. And I don’t want people to witness my shame. And shame is a powerful tool when you’ve had to fight for dignity, no?

    So you have a group of people who have a place where they can talk and behave with freedom from the white gaze, essentially. And what you are saying is – let’s reintroduce it and see what happens. And maybe it’ll be fine but maybe it won’t be. Well, a lot of people are gonna say, you know what? I value this *too much* to take the chance. Racism, ‘race’, discomfort, powerlessness – all those things are real outside this room. Too real. Even to the non POC who are friends and we love and love us. Even to our bosses and contemporaries who value us and like us. So why on earth risk it?

  18. Eva wrote:

    Just a question, what exactly is a “safe space?” And what makes it safe?

    I guess I was raised by people who taught me not to give a flying frig what a white person thought about me because no matter what they did they were going to think what they wanted anyway.

    It’s what they say: Try to please everybody, no one is pleased; please yourself, at least you’re pleased.

  19. PPR_Scribe wrote:

    Just a question, what exactly is a “safe space?” And what makes it safe?

    Again, I can only speak to what I have felt in such situations. “Safe” is knowing you will not be made fun of because you can afford to do x, y, or z (as you might with less affluent Blacks) or be made out as exotic or suspect because you can afford to do x, y, or z (as you might with other middle income Whites). “Safe” is knowing you can talk about anything–from “traditionally” Black to not–and not have to justify yourself. “Safe” is knowing you can talk about the racial microagressions you experience with others who will empathize and not say you’re being oversensitive.

    And “space” is not necessarily a literal, geographic location, but a social space made up of other Black couples/families.

    I don’t think any of what I was trying to capture really has anything to do with “pleasing” White people or anyone else.

    There are times when we wish that we had called out a racist remark or not been cowed by a rude or cold attitude. But it’s difficult to know how you are going to react until you are in that moment. The one saving grace is that most of these humiliations are *silent*.

    Pololly, your comment made me think of this: I think there is a lot of untruthful boasting that happens when a group of “onlies” get together. I think many of us re-tell stories of what happened at work or on the cul-de-sac that makes us out to be more heroic than we actually were. That is interesting: Are folks sometimes afraid that they may have to “put up” in such new situations if they are with other “onlies”?

    In general, I think with my group of friends we are pretty fortunate and risk-tolerant. And my spouse and I have also lived for an extended period of time in Germany where we were lucky enough to find other Black couples who were open to getting out and exploring.

    But even then I have sensed that there may have been limits to what everyone in the group would agree to.

  20. Azizi wrote:

    Here are some additional thoughts on this subject:

    I don’t want to give the impression that I think it’s always okay to close oneself off from different experiences because of concerns about race/racism. I think Black people miss a lot of experiences and opportunities by doing so.

    During the 1960s, the phrase “culturally deprived” was hot. White people (and some Black people) talked about Black people needing cultural enrichment. A built in assumption with this phrase was that we (African Americans) didn’t have any culture that was worth mentioning. I am definitely not talking about that . But for instance, in the city where I live-Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania-there are relatively inexpensive children’s, history, and art museums and the zoo (to mention a few cultural venues) that are within relatively easy access by bus. But there are lots of working class and poor Black people who rarely go out of their neighborhoods and rarely attend those venues except as children on school sponsored trips. Although Black people are about 20% of the population of the city and less than that in the county, when you attend those venues other than on school trips, it looks like 99.9% of the population of the city is White.

    Yet Black people do attend certain outdoor concerts in the downtown area of the city because they know that there will be a certain critical mass of Black people at those concerts (and therefore they feel more comfortable being there). In other words, it’s not just lack of money, or lack of transportation, lack of interest, or not wanting to “act White” that explains why Black people don’t involve ourselves in certain recreational activities.

    Besides being aware of this dynamic, what can be done about it in the short term? Of course, we should continue to work to eradicate personal and institutional racism. But that’s a long term goal. I was going to say we should continue to work to raise children and you are confident. But I think that even when you’re very confident, there comes a time when you need a break from being identified by your race.

    I wonder what coping strategies people have who are “the only ones” in states within the USA or in other countries, regardless of what that “only one” is, be it race, ethnicity, gender, gender orientation, or religion. I guess the dynamic is probably different when a person grows up as the only one but still it would be interesting to “hear” how people in those situations deal with the issue of race fatigue-if indeed they felt such fatigue.

  21. pololly wrote:

    I think there is a lot of untruthful boasting that happens when a group of “onlies” get together

    Agreed. To all of your post actually. I just don’t think that it is as simple as people ‘losing out’ by refusing to ‘act white’.

    Part of enjoying activities can be redefining them, discussing and developing them etc. Maybe many POC *know* that they have more freedom to do this with POC centred/inclusive activities. Thus on balance, they may get *more enjoyment* out of extensive activities in their ‘comfort zone’, rather than outside it. Nothing wrong with that.

    And if travel broadens the mind, why is the typical traveller that I’ve met a privileged neo colonialist pig? Travel doesn’t really broaden the mind, *experiences* do. My response to all of my white friends gushing about collecting more bead necklaces from slum children in Guatemala is that I’m interesting enough. I’m pretty well educated and foreign and decently well travelled so I can tick a lot of ‘not like the other blacks’ boxes I suppose (which seems to be the game here). But I don’t make decisions based on some abstract ranking system – I balance *my* concerns and *my* desires to make *myself* happy. I’m not *oppressing myself*. I’m not stupid. Sometimes that means not taking an aqua aerobics class because I can’t be bothered with the ‘hair discussions’. Sometimes it means avoiding drama/situations. But other times that means jumping off a yacht in the greek islands with a bunch of hot Israeli men (yep :-) ). And other things I can’t say in public LOL.

    Life is complicated. And I’m not really convinced of any argument (and this includes the one made by the OP) that doesn’t include some indication of how the line is also policed from white society.

  22. Anonymous wrote:

    I’m also one of the “I do what I want” types (now), but I do have to admit that in doing the things that “black folks don’t do” at times has hurt being called out about it.. however I had to always remember that this group self-policing is rooted in ignorance, fear… something other that freedom of self expression. It took a long time to get to the point where I decided my life was my own and didn’t belong to the “GKOAB”.

    Example of self oppression:

    http://www.americanthinker.com/2009/11/the_vilification_of_rush.html

  23. bdsista wrote:

    Deaf Muslima, whoever told you Black folk don’t fish is damn lie! I know more Black folk that fish than a little bit, including my ex husband. Down south almost everybody fishes especially in the SC lowcountry area where they crab too and her in MD of course. I got friends who rent boats and own boats and email me more pictures of them with fish than I actually care to look at. Yes Black people camp too, boyscout troops and popup campers and all. There is an Association of Black Watermen here in MD who do talks and have an exhibit about how Blacks worked the water and used the waterways as part of the Underground Railroad. Frederick Douglass escaped by water. So the camping, fishing, hiking thing is totally false.

    co sign to a lot of you on here, I too am one of those people who travel alone often, been to Europe several times alone and to visit friends and got used to being the only Black person sitting on the grass in the village square drinking a stein of beer during Fest in this itty bitty town in Germany. The only Black person at the fabo fashion show that Galerie Lafayette presents Tues am in Paris, the only one at Napoleons Tomb and the Military Museum in Paris, chased out of the Louvre twice, and the Uffitzi in Florence once, the only Black person in the catacombs of Paris cuz I mistook them for the sewers trying to do the Les Miserables tour thing, but got confused. Drive fearlessly from A to B in this country as I have found that most rural white folk are pretty friendly as are most folk in NYC.

    I don’t walk down dark alleys in most places anywhere in the world and I speak to everyone because I have learned that people can be anxious and scared of me and I can dispel that with a smile and simply saying hello, including infamous menacing gangs of young black males, who often are so used to being dehumanized and feared that I have surprised them by simply speaking civilly. But then I am a teacher and recall a conversation where a neighbor complained to me about the young Black men who hung out at the 7-11 and being on a community board what was I going to do about it? I replied that having taught those young men, I suggested she speak to them as they were her neighbors children.

    I have found that women of my age group who are more educated (40-50s) travel more because of income, time and perhaps confidence you gain being older. But there is a class component as well, no question. All my friends who travel are all middle class. My parents sent me on my first trip to Europe at 15 and I did piano lessons and symphony trips from age 5-6, ballet and art lessons too. My Mother always talked about not being culturally deprived which I now understand as knowing and appreciating the culture of other places, mostly white, but other cultures as well.

  24. CKR wrote:

    I agree with some about how we should not limit ourselves or not do something we WANT to do b/c others may disapprove. BUT I also agree with what others brought up about race fatigue. THIS IS ALL TOO TRUE-lol. Sometimes you just don’t want to deal with it, especially when you deal with it constantly. Of course I wouldn’t let it stop me from doing something I really wanted to do, but if I can avoid yet another situation (especially what is supposed to be a relaxing vacation) where I feel awkward, stared out, or “out of place” sometimes that’s what I will do.
    I don’t blame myself for that, I look to society and how we still have a long way to go to finally get rid of these invisible barriers or unsaid taboos that surround us.

  25. Charles J wrote:

    As a Black person who has traveled the world I do find myself asking the question, to friends who travel the US who are Black, are there Black people where you are traveling? I ask this question as a joke and not as a joke because as many have stated above. I think the issue is safety. My father and I once ended up driving from Maryland to his hometown in Georgia and we did not know it but we ended up in one of the country’s most documented racist towns, where we could have been easily hurt because we were ignorant of that town’s history.

    I honestly do not feel POC are creating our own oppression. I feel we are working in an oppressed society where safety is an issue.

  26. P wrote:

    I was always considered “not black” in my HS years and a little beyond because a lot of my friends weren’t black. That experience taught me not to care about such things.

    The most of of the box thing I did inside the USA was go snowmobiling in Grand Teton Park (Wyoming) and it was one of the best experiences I ever had. If black folks turn their noses up to something I have done, I just say “whatever, that’s not MY problem!”

  27. Stephanie wrote:

    My cousin just sent me a video that she did with Blair Underwood that is very good timing for this post. It mocks the idea that you discuss when white hikers don’t know how to handle a black man hiking in the woods.

    http://www.funnyordie.com/videos/24b56caf3e/black-hiker-with-blair-underwood

  28. William wrote:

    I like this topic. I believe that it is truly a family and culture issue. If you are brought up with the idea of travelling and that you can do whatever and go wherever you want to go you will pass on these same beliefs and values to your offsprings. My family are a bunch of nomads spreaded all over the US and at different times throughout the world (some for work and others for military, myself the aforementioned), so we are used to travelling and going and doing different things. If you are not exposed to this either through family or friends at an early age then the older you get the harder it becomes to get out and spread your wings to the world. I have travelled (will continue to do so), skiied, surfed, white water raft, and numerous other activities that some African-Americans say we do not participate in, oh yeah, I love U2, glad Creed is out with a new album, grew up on Billy Idol, The Cure, etc…, but I also love The Jacksons, Alicia Keys, Tupac, Ice Cube, N.W.A., UKG, etc… I think we have learned in the last 20 or 30 years that we can be just as diversified as any other group of people and enjoy life just as much. Some folks are just stuck in time and still have a semi-Plantation mentality (but at the same time, I’m sure some of the authors friends heard the statement mentioned throughout the article in their household when they were growing up). My wife and I try to live by the creed of “Live, Love, Laugh” and we plan on passing that on to our one year old son.

  29. Moviegirl wrote:

    Hey all this post really touched me in ways others haven’t, ha!

    I too love to travel and hike, climb and swim. However, most of the traveling I do is outside this country. There is something a little bit more safe for me in Europe, Brazil, South Africa than in Montana, Arizona and Utah. Which is a little bit more than nuts but when I get stared at in middle America I feel out of place, when I get stared at outside this country, it’s because I’m so beautiful people have to stare.

    Maybe it has a little to do with the fact that if I go overseas to Europe, I expect people of color to be few and far between, and I’m going there for a once in a lifetime experience. However, if I go to a Irish pub in Bensonhurst (a historically segregated Brooklyn neighborhood), I know it’s going to be self-segregation on the part of most of it’s clientele and because someone dragged me there. I did the latter and had my one and only panic attack–scared isn’t the word.

    I have a friend who’s a “big girl” her term, not mine. And she thinks about her size more than her race, she’s african american. She would never let her race determine where she goes–her motto is “I have just as much right to be here than anyone.” But the way she thinks about her size (it varies) is sometimes the way I think about my race. It’s small and subtle but I do think about it.

    Do I want to go skiing in Switzerland, or visit historic buildings in Germany, yes; do I want to drive cross country, maybe; do I ever want to visit Wyoming, NO!

  30. Jenna Rose wrote:

    Just watched this TED talk/performance a few days ago; thought you all might enjoy it :)

    http://www.ted.com/talks/stew_says_black_men_ski.html

  31. mute wrote:

    @bdsista

    why did you get chased out of the Louvre?