I hope I don’t get in trouble, but I had been putting off filling out my 2010 Census Form, and now that I have filled it out, I may not have given the response that the government wanted to see.
I had been aware of the controversy regarding the word Negro, and I wasn’t too eager to deal with it. Still, I completely expected to have the opportunity to check a box that read Black, or a box that read African American or a box that read Negro. Instead, last night as I sat down to fill out my form, I discovered lumped together under one box to check, read the line....
Black, African American or Negro.
Hmm... So have we fully embraced this new millennium or have we traveled back in time to the 1920’s? I remember last month talking with my Grandmother regarding the latest census and asking what she thought about the word Negro being added, and her response was; “Why did they bring that word back?”
My point exactly!
The reasoning behind that was because the Census Bureau felt that some older generations may identify with that label best and may be more inclined to fill out the census form. That explanation doesn’t sit right with me and obviously my Grandmother doesn’t feel the label Negro defines who she is.
Earlier that evening, before I pulled out that form, I decided to pick up a quick bite to eat at Jim ‘N Nick’s BBQ. When I pulled around to the drive-thru window to pick up my order, a dark skinned girl, about my complexion, with a head full of spiral curls, looked at me and my natural locks and asked if I had a jheri curl.
“No,” I chuckled. She then asked me if I was mixed. I replied that I was just your average American. After that she proceeded to ask if I was Panamanian or from the Caribbean.
“Nope neither,” I said, “I’m from Kentucky.”
The girl was young, I think maybe still in high school, or perhaps recently out. But she quickly explained to me that she was from the Dominican Republic and people in her school, here in the states, always asked if she had a weave because Black girls didn’t have hair like hers.
But she said what they couldn’t get was that she wasn’t Black, and they refused to believe her, that she got her hair from her Indian Caribbean blood, so she said she eventually let them believe what they wanted to believe, that she was Black, but deep down she knew she was Dominican.
I found the impromptu conversation truly intriguing and quite fascinating. Not the intrusion on my ancestral background, because I usually get annoyed when bombarded with personal questions from complete strangers, but by her desire to relate to me, and her need to convey to me who she is as an individual. I didn’t ask her one question about herself, and yet she eagerly shared.
In her eyes I saw the pain of being thrown into a society that only views the world in black and white. Sometimes a person’s existence goes beyond the gray and is rooted in something deeper, something more. Take the group speak away and you get individuality.
So sitting at my kitchen table last night, and looking at my options to be counted, I realized these racial categories, Black, African American or Negro fail to sum up who I am. And further more, I am truly disgusted by out-dated language and will no way associate myself with the word Negro.
Negro is just the word black in Spanish, but here in the United States, historically it’s had a negative connotation. The other “N” word that I absolutely hate, is derived from the word Negro. I am from North America and my ancestors’ blood has been spilled on U.S. soil for centuries. If anything, I am just American, because America is my country of origin. Just like the girl in the drive-thru window who proudly proclaimed to me that she was Dominican.
I do understand the history and significance behind these racial categories, and I’m proud of the African-American culture, but what was the Civil Rights movement about, if not about the right to be free and equal and to define ourselves individually? And for those who think well, she just doesn’t want to be Black. I say no, that’s not it at all. I just don’t believe that we as humans are that different, and therefore it’s hard for me to apply a racial label to my being.
Plus, what’s the point of the census, if not to assign representation in Congress? I know that the census also determines who or what districts receive what portion of federal funds, but I don’t have any kids, nor am I married, nor receive any type of government assistance and I don’t see how I view myself racially has anything to do with anything.
For example, if I choose to check a box for one racial category, does that mean that I deserve more federal dollars to come my way, just because of the color of my skin? I’m college educated and am a middle-income wage earner. The census doesn’t even ask us our education level or income level. In my opinion, federal dollars should be given to areas that are poverty stricken or low income, but you should not be able to determine that by any racial classification.
So... looking over my form last night, I eventually bypassed all the options on the form under question nine and wrote X next to the option of Some Other Race.
In the space underneath, I wrote Human.
And hopefully 72 years from now, when these records are made public, some future descendant of mine will find my entry in the National Archives and say, wow, now there was a forward thinker!
I had been aware of the controversy regarding the word Negro, and I wasn’t too eager to deal with it. Still, I completely expected to have the opportunity to check a box that read Black, or a box that read African American or a box that read Negro. Instead, last night as I sat down to fill out my form, I discovered lumped together under one box to check, read the line....
Black, African American or Negro.
Hmm... So have we fully embraced this new millennium or have we traveled back in time to the 1920’s? I remember last month talking with my Grandmother regarding the latest census and asking what she thought about the word Negro being added, and her response was; “Why did they bring that word back?”
My point exactly!
The reasoning behind that was because the Census Bureau felt that some older generations may identify with that label best and may be more inclined to fill out the census form. That explanation doesn’t sit right with me and obviously my Grandmother doesn’t feel the label Negro defines who she is.
Earlier that evening, before I pulled out that form, I decided to pick up a quick bite to eat at Jim ‘N Nick’s BBQ. When I pulled around to the drive-thru window to pick up my order, a dark skinned girl, about my complexion, with a head full of spiral curls, looked at me and my natural locks and asked if I had a jheri curl.
“No,” I chuckled. She then asked me if I was mixed. I replied that I was just your average American. After that she proceeded to ask if I was Panamanian or from the Caribbean.
“Nope neither,” I said, “I’m from Kentucky.”
The girl was young, I think maybe still in high school, or perhaps recently out. But she quickly explained to me that she was from the Dominican Republic and people in her school, here in the states, always asked if she had a weave because Black girls didn’t have hair like hers.
But she said what they couldn’t get was that she wasn’t Black, and they refused to believe her, that she got her hair from her Indian Caribbean blood, so she said she eventually let them believe what they wanted to believe, that she was Black, but deep down she knew she was Dominican.
I found the impromptu conversation truly intriguing and quite fascinating. Not the intrusion on my ancestral background, because I usually get annoyed when bombarded with personal questions from complete strangers, but by her desire to relate to me, and her need to convey to me who she is as an individual. I didn’t ask her one question about herself, and yet she eagerly shared.
In her eyes I saw the pain of being thrown into a society that only views the world in black and white. Sometimes a person’s existence goes beyond the gray and is rooted in something deeper, something more. Take the group speak away and you get individuality.
So sitting at my kitchen table last night, and looking at my options to be counted, I realized these racial categories, Black, African American or Negro fail to sum up who I am. And further more, I am truly disgusted by out-dated language and will no way associate myself with the word Negro.
Negro is just the word black in Spanish, but here in the United States, historically it’s had a negative connotation. The other “N” word that I absolutely hate, is derived from the word Negro. I am from North America and my ancestors’ blood has been spilled on U.S. soil for centuries. If anything, I am just American, because America is my country of origin. Just like the girl in the drive-thru window who proudly proclaimed to me that she was Dominican.
I do understand the history and significance behind these racial categories, and I’m proud of the African-American culture, but what was the Civil Rights movement about, if not about the right to be free and equal and to define ourselves individually? And for those who think well, she just doesn’t want to be Black. I say no, that’s not it at all. I just don’t believe that we as humans are that different, and therefore it’s hard for me to apply a racial label to my being.
Plus, what’s the point of the census, if not to assign representation in Congress? I know that the census also determines who or what districts receive what portion of federal funds, but I don’t have any kids, nor am I married, nor receive any type of government assistance and I don’t see how I view myself racially has anything to do with anything.
For example, if I choose to check a box for one racial category, does that mean that I deserve more federal dollars to come my way, just because of the color of my skin? I’m college educated and am a middle-income wage earner. The census doesn’t even ask us our education level or income level. In my opinion, federal dollars should be given to areas that are poverty stricken or low income, but you should not be able to determine that by any racial classification.
So... looking over my form last night, I eventually bypassed all the options on the form under question nine and wrote X next to the option of Some Other Race.
In the space underneath, I wrote Human.
And hopefully 72 years from now, when these records are made public, some future descendant of mine will find my entry in the National Archives and say, wow, now there was a forward thinker!
You did great girl. I did almost the exact same thing, with a little bit more -c flare. But I agree whole hardily that we should not be pigeon holed into a category that the US Government wants us all to fit into. We are all multi racial in this country so why should one of those races take precedent over the others and who says the government - or anyone else for that matter - has the right to determine that for us. Just like the Dominican girl and her ignorant classmates. Just because you look a certain why doesn't give other people the right to classify you themselves. My second grade teacher did that to me and it has changed my life and the way I view myself and other people.
ReplyDeleteExactly! One day we as a human species will see the beauty that all hold within. I think we are getting closer to that but we are still far far away from seeing each other as perfect beings. Until then, we'll unfortunately continue to navigate around these bumps in the road that we call categories of race. But in the meantime, as long as there are people like you and like me, who are willing to throw off the chains of racial identity, I think we can make the here and now a more tolerable place.
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