Navigating Mixed Identity within Black Lives Matter.
Photo taken by Sian Parker.
As you will know, the recent unjust murders of George Floyd, Breonna Taylor, Tony McDade, Ahmaud Arbery and countless other Black people has caused a fierce resurgence in the Black Lives Matter movement. And while the movement is not new, this recent outpouring of “enough is enough” feels more impactful than ever. People all over the world want to make a change and they really mean it. Or at least, I hope they still do.
It’s fantastic that people from all over want to collectively make a change. But it makes you wonder why it’s taken so many deaths of Black people to get to this point.
I know for me, I’ve been navigating a lot of guilt during this time. Guilt for not speaking louder or advocating for Black lives sooner. Guilt for all the privilege being white-passing has afforded me, but not my Black mother or Black relatives. It’s a constant turmoil I’ve been working through, and I’m using it to propel me into becoming a better and more effective ally. I’m sure many mixed people with Black heritage feel similarly.
Mixed race folks already face a myriad of identity crises throughout their lives. Not feeling wholly aligned with either of their heritages, feeling like two halves but never whole, or even having part of their identity erased completely depending on how light or dark their skin is. When I took part in Mixed Race Faces last year, I had never felt more seen or heard when I spoke with other fellow mixed people — that navigating this type of guilt and privilege is not unique to only me.
Like many others, I’ve been reluctant to speak up about race issues in the past, because I didn’t feel like it was my place. That people would perceive me as a ‘phoney’ because I wasn’t Black or ‘obviously mixed’. It made me feel like I couldn’t speak to or advocate for the struggles that Black or dark-skinned mixed people face because it wasn’t ‘my’ fight.
Illustration by Brandy Chieco on Instagram
But I’m realising now that’s not true. It is my fight. It’s ALL our fight. And I need to use my white privilege to bring awareness to these issues. Because — unfortunately, due to the world we are currently living in — to many it will be more palatable coming from me: someone who passes as white.
So for the past couple of months — on Instagram and offline as well — I have been pouring my heart and soul into race activism. I created a Black Lives Matter resources page, updating it whenever I come across a new petition, new donation links, new books that I think others will find valuable. I have been having difficult but meaningful conversations about race with friends and family members. I have taken the time to confront my feelings of guilt and discomfort, and come to terms with the fact that I also have prejudices that have been subconsciously weaved into me by a racist society.
It feels weird admitting that I have, consciously or unconsciously, contributed to a society that puts Black people down. It feels like a dirty little secret. But as I educate myself and grow, I know that despite being mixed and having a Black mother, it doesn’t make me immune to white supremacy. I’ve lived under it for almost three decades. We’re all affected by it, it’s not our fault. But it is up to us to dismantle the system that created us and make way for a society that doesn’t go out of its way to disadvantage — and often kill — Black people.
I’m not perfect. I have made and will make mistakes, but the difference now is that I’m learning to let go of ego. Just because I am anti-racist, it doesn’t mean that I don’t have racist ideals built into me.
Through being more vocal about race issues online, I have had white friends approach me, asking me of ways that they can do better. And while I understand and appreciate the intent, it has felt a little draining at times. Don’t get me wrong, I am more than happy to use any kind of platform I have to educate people and speak about race. And I will take any opportunity to shoulder the burden of emotional labour, so that Black people don’t have to. But emotional labour is still emotional labour.
Photo taken by Sian Parker.
Acting as a ‘bridge’ between my white friends and race issues — often because I am one of the only POC friends they have — has been an enlightening, fulfilling, frustrating and draining experience all at once. It’s a difficult feeling to explain. I’m happy that they want to learn and to hear about the non-white experience. I want my white friends to be effective allies, to be curious and educated.
But I’m also not comfortable being the ‘voice’ for Black people, because I’m not Black.
I also want them to learn about race that isn’t at the expense of someone else’s time and emotional energy.
I created my BLM resources page to give white people a ‘Start Here’ when it comes to learning the basics of anti-racism, and yet I am still being frequently asked about the basics. I’ve done my best to guide them, but I am still being asked to spoon-feed them. It’s frustrating because we all have the tools and facilities to research about literally anything in the world (hello, Google exists!). But, when it comes to race, white people — even those with the best intentions — still demand Black people and non-Black POC of their time and emotional labour to personally educate them, even with hundreds of thousands of resources out there in the world.
I’m straying from my point, slightly.
I guess what I’m trying to say in this post is: all my life I have been told how ‘lucky’ I am to look the way I do. But I never really understood the full weight of what that meant until now. While I am not white, I won’t ever experience racism like a Black person and I won’t ever face the same obstacles.
I am not six times more likely to be stopped and searched by the police. I am not nine times more likely to receive a prison sentence in the criminal justice system. I am not five times more likely to die during childbirth.
But feeling guilty isn’t going to do anything, other than centring myself and my ego. Although it has been uncomfortable to come to terms with my white-passing privilege, I know I need to use this opportunity to incite real change. That expending a little bit more emotional labour, though frustrating, is worth it for the sake of the cause (as long as I continue to take care of myself in the process).
To my fellow mixed people and non-Black POC — whatever your feelings are, feel them. But don’t let them consume you.
“To mixed race people: I know you feel as though you’re not white enough to be white, nor black enough to be Black. But don’t feel like you have to justify your place in this battle, and never apologise for being you. You are both your father and your mother. You are not one or the other. This was never about Black versus white, this is about everyone versus racists.”
—AJ Odudu, in British Vogue
