First Generation American

“I’m a first generation American.” With all due respect, my nigga, that’s not what I asked.

Okay let’s start from the top. I went to this networking event for veterans, deep in Long Island, and struck up a conversation with a man. He was telling me how he is the president of his Caribbean chapter at work. “Oh ok great. What’s your ethnicity?”, I asked. He answered “I’m a first generation American…“ he paused. Then he added, “but my parents are from Haiti”

I was taken aback by the answer. “No, not your nationality, your ethnicity.” He nervously chuckled and brush it off. So, I came here to write about it. You see, I felt like Darwin at the Galápagos Islands, watching lizards, but this time, studying the way deep seated “assimilation”, we’ll call it, affects people of color.

If I’m being perfectly honest, my black hasn’t always been beautiful to me. There was a time where I was very afraid of being labeled an “African booty scratcher.” As a man with a naturally darker hue, I’ve heard all the jokes from “damn you look like 11:59” to “I bet if I shut the lights off, all I’ll see are your eyes and teeth.” Frankly, only a few were original and even less were funny. Granted, these were said by other children and most times they weren’t conscious of the colorism, so I would hardly label this behavior insidious, so much as ignorant.

The true evil would usually come when I would hang out with friends and family in the New Jersey suburbs. It was here I heard my black cousin espouse such things as “if it ain’t white, it ain’t right.” Keep in mind— he has a black mom, father and sister. I’m not sure how suburbia makes the self hatred so strong, but man is it effective. I’ve had an actual white adult tell me (as a 14 year old child) that Obama does care about me or anyone who looks like me. I’ve had adults give me back-handed compliments, such as, “you’re so well spoken.” The list of slights is nauseating. But what’s my point?! That racism is strong in suburban neighborhoods? Maybe. But more to the point— imagine having to constantly grow up in that environment. Constantly feeling the need to justify your existence, or just wanting to be treated as normal and not as an “other” or outsider. I’m ashamed to say a young me occasionally tap danced for approval, but im glad that was short lived. I grew out of it by becoming a voracious reader. Knowledge freed me from the shackles of colorism and wanting to assimilate. The truth is, you were put on this earth to stand out and not blend in. Our differences are meant to celebrated and the one person you have an obligation to love is YOURSELF. Read it again: the one person you have an obligation to love is yourself (and if you’re a parent, your offspring) but that’s it, that’s the list. If you don’t love yourself, how can you expect someone else to?

Ultimately, I don’t blame you, Mr. FirstgenerationAmerican, it’s not your fault. It’s the community around you who failed you. They should’ve raised you and shown you your roots are beautiful. If you ascribe to European beauty standards and are a person of color, you probably have some self hatred. My children will be better equipped than I to handle these racist curves. I will show them the family tree and where the ancestry stems. Yes, I don’t blame you, sir. To quote the great (and sometimes crazy) poet, Kanye West, “they made us hate ourselves and love their wealth, that’s why shorties holla where the balla’s at?!”