The rest of the lyrics, I never
memorized; lyrics that were a call to black people to take control of their
destiny; lyrics that fell in line with the Black
Power and Black is Beautiful movements;
but I didn’t mind—the chorus was enough for my ten year old satisfaction.
Identifying oneself as black took a while for some people to
adjust to. Some of the older people (and younger people, too) were still saying
they were Colored or Negro. Because their skin was not actually black, they did
not think they were black. I wonder if they thought white was a good
description for Caucasians even though their skin is not actually white. Hmmm…
Probably not, because white is the color of cleanliness, purity, and angels.
A few months ago, I was walking
with two friends (both white), when one of them identified a man as black. I
can’t remember what we were talking about—nothing unpleasant—and it “wasn’t”
even one of those statements where the race of the person had nothing to do
with the subject matter, so I didn’t give it a thought. However, she did. A
couple seconds after she said it, she apologized to me and said that she meant
to say African American.
Of course, I assured her that
there was absolutely no offense taken and that I prefer using black than African American, anyway. Jokingly, I told her what I’ve told my
children, that black is one syllable
and Af-ri-can A-mer-i-can is seven
syllables—it’s too long. (By the way, they don’t prefer one over the other.)
I’ll bet my friend is not the
only person who has stumbled on this semantic brouhaha that has been added to
the political correctness box during the last two or so decades. White people,
brown people, Asians, and others probably aren’t sure of what to refer to us as
because we have different preferences of how’d we like to be racially
identified. Many are going with the current politically correct, African American which some black people
dislike. I’ve heard them say, “I’m black and I’m American! I am of African
descent, but I don’t relate to Africa.” On the other hand, I’ve heard, “I’m
proud of my African heritage and want it to be known. No one complains when
Italian Americans say, ‘I’m Italian American.’” And then there are those who
don’t care which of the non-white, respectable labels they get.
It’s not just blacks who have the
identification issue. As I was writing the paragraph above describing people by
color, I didn’t and wouldn’t think of referring to Asians as yellow, which is what I was taught when
I was a child in elementary school; that there are three races: black, white,
and yellow, and that you had to fit into one of them. And nowadays, Oriental seems to be on the “do not use”
list, too, as well as Indians or the
archaic red race, which should be Native Americans. Black, white, and
brown are okay, but not yellow and red. Somehow, I get it.
I’ve also learned that the “real”
Indians who live in India or who are descendants of Indians are “not” to be
called Asians—but simply, Indians; and other people with roots in certain Western
and Southern Asia countries are Middle
Easterners.
I’m not even “going there” with
the people who are the offspring of parents who are not the same race,
ethnicity, or whatever the politically correct term is. That’s our nation’s
current agenda, figuring out what to call them.
I’m not a stickler in this
matter. Call me black or African American; it doesn’t matter. You can even call
me colored or Negro if you want to hear me laugh; however, be prepared for a
reciprocal response.
February is Black History Month. There are lots of opinions on
whether there should still be a Black
History Month. Whether it should or should not, I enjoy catching a PBS show
about the plights and/or triumphs of my dominant ancestors, and of current
events, too. If it remains, I hope it’ll continue to be called “Black” History Month.
Thoughts?
February is also American Heart Month. Read my post
titled, Take the Pill, and think
about yourself and your loved ones.
Image found on Microsoft Office Photos
(spacing variations in the post are not intentional)
