Putting A Smile On Your Face While Being Oppressed

Is this how the Black community is to act when under the thumb of white supremacy?

“I’m a lover, not a fighter.”

I have to keep reminding myself of this every time I see a horrific display of racial injustice. It becomes increasingly difficult to maintain any level of sanity knowing there is a concerted effort each and every day by some to silence those of us in the Black community. I wonder if Sun Tzu is taking calls.

Samuel L. Jackson’s twisted house slave character Stephen in Django Unchained comes to mind when I think of the insane expectations placed on the Black community and how we should simply shut up, mind our business, and do as we are told. For so long this twisted way of thinking has poisoned the minds of many in the white community. An unexpected byproduct of this is the poisoning of the Black consciousness. Such a destructive influence can manifest itself over generations no matter who the recipients are.

Are we expected to live out our days in complete servitude? I guess this depends on whom you ask. No one wants to live this way — no one.

Who, who do you serve? For whose empire and for whose whims? Is your honor judged by men? — Fishbone

How do I carry on throughout the day with little hope that my voice will be heard, my mind respected, and my being valued? In many cases, having to rely on the will of others for my success is humiliating. Sure, I have confidence in who I am, what I can do, and my ability to create a good life for myself. But is this enough?

Unfortunately, this is a ceiling for many Black people. Beyond this is the sad reality of hoping an opportunity will be afforded to us by a system that has no regard for our wellbeing, advancement, or way of life.

In no way am I suggesting that every interaction with our white brothers and sisters deserves suspicion, or that my mere presence in this “sea of foam” is only a segregated piece of the social puzzle; what I am referring to are experiences of being labeled as an object or the subject of a generalization for the sole purpose of entertaining a white audience.

Shuckin’ and jivin’

Ebony O. McGee, Associate Professor of Education, Diversity, and STEM at Vanderbilt University’s Peabody College discusses how Black academics were regularly advised by white peers to be “more entertaining” when presenting their research to mostly white colleagues. If this is how many in the white community view Black people — sources of amusement — exploiting this further promotes the idea that Black people are nothing more than objects to provide entertainment.

This same expectation that Black people perform for their white colleagues is not solely relegated to academia. In many instances, Black people are expected to and sometimes made to feel that they have to perform above and beyond their job in order to maintain employment or keep in the good graces of their employer.

Not every situation is the same of course, nor has every Black person experienced being used as an object in a white space. But many have.

Years ago, while at a company retreat, I was pulled aside by the CEO and asked to “rally the crowd.” “Tell them a joke.” “Get them excited.” To “motivate them, and create some energy as ONLY I knew how.” I’m neither a comedian nor a Tony Robbins disciple — my talents were best utilized occupying the seat closest to the door while fighting off sleep during the president’s “it takes a team” speech.

I was far from the most outgoing or animated employee on the payroll. Those coworkers who, by definition, leaned more into a raucous display of personality would have been better suited to fulfill such a request.

Why was I the chosen one to deliver on such a responsibility?

Two thoughts went through my mind when asked to “inspire” my colleagues… if I don’t accommodate this request, it could mean a future strained relationship with the CEO… by accepting the task, I would be a “performing monkey” and all my dignity would be shelved in order to satisfy the power structure.

In a general sense, this request was not all that unreasonable, however being the only Black person in the company at the time, I was often the one asked to initiate these types of motivational exercises, recommend specific social engagements, or be the torchbearer for what was “hip” and “cool.” Stereotype much?!

Was I being asked because of a deeply ingrained perception of Black men being authoritative and who would command attention by a white audience? Was I the logical choice given my presence and outward appearance, thus viewed as the token cultural representative?

Looking back, I am not proud of the decision to carry out that request. I should have politely declined and expressed my uneasiness. To a degree, I do believe in taking one for the team however this only goes as far as one’s self-respect and integrity remaining intact which, in this particular instance, I epically failed at.

Never again.

“Today the racialized objectification of African Americans may not always be as overt as it was a century ago, but the ‘black as entertainment’ ideology remains alive and well.” — Ebony O. McGee

I wasn’t getting paid to be the hospitality director or emcee for the organization! I don’t recall this being in my job description. Nor was I given an option to decline such an “ask.” As the only Black person in the company, there was this unwritten expectation that I would be happy to accommodate their requests and be at the ready with exuberant anticipation.

I never happily agreed to be an object of performance.

Being the only one to carry the responsibility of an entire community or be the spokesperson for what is acceptable behavior, especially in a professional setting — in its DNA, illustrates fundamental discrimination many have against other races.

Mind you, these experiences took place long before diversity training and DEI groups became all the rage in the workplace. No doubt I would have been the one asked to head up such a group if an organization was guilted into complying by their board (or staff). Yay!

Shut up and dance

From the days of minstrel shows and blackface, and the historic perception of Black people seen only as entertainers, the expectation of such has disproportionately been attached to a community that already has to bear the burden of countless stereotypes that many uses to define us. Being used as a tool of entertainment for white audiences is yet another way to demean the Black community.

Are we supposed to sit back and mug out our pearly whites? Yessah Massah. Okay, I know, a bit extreme, but we can’t continue to live a life in an environment that sees our community as worthless, as criminals, or at the very least as a shiny new toy. The other day in Mississippi, in an effort to amuse themselves, a group of armed white police officers surrounded a detained Black suspect and took pictures with him (smiling) as if their capture was the result of a big game hunt and they had just scored their trophy. Each day, there is always something. The struggle never ends.

Like many of you, I have a hunger deep inside my core aggressively trying to make sense of the world around me, especially in this country; the country I call home, even when each day I am reminded that many of my fellow citizens would prefer I not exist.

This is a tough reality to grasp. Trying to go about your day and live your life while in the back of your mind, knowing at any moment, someone might want to do you harm because of your skin color, or exploit you for their own needs.

In many ways, the pandemic was a welcomed life diversion. Needless to say, I didn’t have to brave the abuse as much.

Thankfully, people today are generally less tolerant of the racist shenanigans that others stop at nothing to practice or expect. This collective social awareness that has grown over the past number of years was desperately needed. It was just a matter of time before the racist underbelly of our society would bare itself.

Now, we are fully in it. There is no turning back. If we let up, even just a little, there is no guarantee a repeat of long ago won’t happen again. Not a scare tactic, a reality we cannot afford to entertain.

I, for one, have no desire to don the costume of Stephen for Halloween (or any other day for that matter). I prefer to drape myself in freedom, accentuated by a healthy dose of dignity and respect. I like to think I can navigate life on my own terms. That’s not too much to ask for, is it? I mean… I have the right. Or do I?

Thank you for reading!

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