The Black American Monolith: Society & Its Perception of Blackness
Over the years, I have been many things: Dominican, Puerto Rican, Honduran, Panamanian — the list goes on. When asked the ever-haunting ‘what are you” question, my response is always “Black.” Unbeknownst to the asker, this abuts their perception of blackness with what blackness truly is. The succeeding questions and comments can only come from a place of ignorance. The rapid-fire negotiations and prejudiced perceptions come from a lack of understanding about what it means to be black in America and how outward perceptions can be inherently incorrect. There have been schisms among black people in the United States and across the diaspora. There is no greater enemy than one’s own willful ignorance.
“I No Black”
The United States is the only country in the world where your race comes before your nationality, allegedly. In the Dominican Republic and across LatAm, your darkness is your most defining characteristic. Dark-skinned women are subjected to colorism in its most extreme form. Their only characteristic is their most visible one. They become “La Negra” and internalize that anti-blackness before truly being able to conceptualize what that means. Even light-skinned people are subjected to an aspect of the colorism that dark-skinned people face. Being told “you’re so dark” or “you’ve gotten burnt” creates the impression that blackness is something to avoid. Even celebrities aren’t exempt from this anti-blackness.
Look at former baseball player Alexander Rodriguez, colloquially referred to as A-Rod. On February 24, 2024, he posted a video in response to being called black, saying, “I know that I am dark, BUT I’m Dominican.” There is a belief that your proximity to whiteness is representative of a person’s morality or social identity. Black Americans are victims of white supremacy that is further perpetuated across minority communities in the U.S. The same white supremacy that those communities are victims of themselves. It’s as if we’re all dying of thirst, but they believe it’s our oppressor who has the water. Even outside of the United States and Latin America, France, India, China, Korea, and many other countries uphold this centering of white supremacy. Whether it’s rooted in classism or a fear of oppression, minority communities and the desire to be juxtaposed with whiteness play a part in the oppression of the black American identity, as well as black people globally.
“Boyz n the Hood”
In the 1920s, the American gangster was the classic Italian-American gangster. They bootlegged, racketeered, and were members of organized crime families. During the last hundred years, the American gangster has shifted to the American thug — a black man from a poor neighborhood selling drugs and carrying guns; a “gangbanger.” Within the United States and possibly internationally, the perception of black identity began changing under the Nixon Administration. The criminalization of marijuana and the overarching War on Drugs have had lasting effects on the black American identity. Public policy and gerrymandering have dismantled the black family unit, suppressed the black American vote, and oppressed black Americans socio-economically.
This has created a cycle of violence and crime as a struggle to survive and thrive. From this cycle comes Boyz n the Hood. Boyz n the Hood tells the story of Tre Styles, a young man who reunites with his childhood friends while being surrounded by the neighborhood's booming gang culture. The movie and others like it engage with the broader social and political issues of the early 1990s and is one of the pioneers of the “Hood Film” genre. It’s a movie that has gained global popularity and acclaim. However, this popularity unintentionally helped solidify the view of black Americans as thugs and gangsters. It’s not just film; 90s gangster rap, literature, and other media helped cement the black thug into American politics and identity. Gangster rap is a tale of struggle, showing the despair and resilience black Americans experience in their efforts to overcome systemic oppression. This media serves as a cautionary tale and an illumination of the black struggle in America. Although this plight is clearly illuminated in the songs, the amassed popularity often causes viewers to miss the nuance of the media. Whether this is due to a lack of understanding of Black identity and culture, or a general ignorance, Black Americans are much more than this narrow-minded perception.
“I’m Not Black, I’m OJ”
American white supremacy has infected the minds of the American populace like a disease. The black American identity has been juxtaposed with either victimhood or gang-banging. This often creates internal struggles within black Americans themselves. They have to determine whether their Americanism is contradictory to blackness and how to reconcile two identities that seem to abut at every turn. Furthermore, because of Jim Crow and the systemic oppression of Black people, the Black voice, in many cases, has to be monolithic. We have to identify as a unified black people because, as history has shown us, cracks in the wall will cause the whole house to fall down.
This is reflected in the Black Panther Party, the Nation of Islam, and other black groups that existed to bring freedom to Black Americans. This has, in many ways, suppressed the voices of black folks who don’t necessarily fit into a stereotypical mold. They are often “othered” within their own community and end up associating blackness with exclusion. This othering and a desire for assimilation to whiteness is how self-loathing black folks are created. American celebrities are also not exempt from this anti-blackness. The “I’m not black, I’m O.J.” quote is a very apparent display of self-loathing and anti-blackness. Othering yourself from blackness, whether because of wealth or influence, doesn’t change what the people around you know. Racism is not the spawn of classism but its sibling. Although there is an understandable point in not wanting to be associated solely with your race, and it isn’t inherently a bad thing to want otherwise, the existence of systemic oppression and white supremacy means there is an irreconcilable division between the desire for a global, unified society and reality. There is no one bigger than the program — in the U.S, all black people, regardless of status or skin tone, are black.
Ultimately, there is no black American monolith. Black people come in several different forms. There is a very real and rampant oppression of black people across the globe, but it is important for us to make peace within ourselves and keep pushing forward to a better tomorrow. No one has to love their oppressors, but they have to come to terms with the reality of it. In the words of Eldridge Cleaver, “The price of hating other human beings is loving oneself less."
Devon Froehlich
Devon Froehlich is currently pursuing her second degree in Anthropology with hopes of getting an MPA or Juris Doctorate. Co-editor of Jou Jòrdi, she is an advocate for socio-economic equity and the advancement of POCs everywhere. She draws inspiration from figures such as W.E.B Dubois, Thurgood Marshall, & Shirley Chisholm
