I hate to be called by a color. By societal standards Black is what I am. It describes me, it represents me, and it is me. I am identified first by my color. Then after my color, I am defined by the stereotypes of Blackness. I am made to speak for blackness, to explain blackness, and to be the symbol of blackness when no other black is around. I am lastly, if ever identified as me.
When I entered college there were a lot of whites that wanted to know blackness. They had their stereotypes and I was constantly bombarded to explain their ideas of blackness. Their ideas of what black people are were embedded in years of inherited racism. Although they may not have been racist themselves, their families at some point were and their ancestral racism developed into socially tolerable stereotypes. It’s annoying to have to explain blackness that I may not even identify with. It’s annoying to be given the position of advocate to blackness without consent. I can only represent me but whites do not understand.
Why do I have to be a color. Better yet, why can’t I just be American instead of half, hyphenated American (i.e. African-American). Black is devoid of color; it’s absent on the color spectrum. Black is always associated with everything bad. For instance blackmail or black cat that represents bad luck. But then again, black represents power and strength. For instance a black hole: an area of space-time with a gravitational field so intense that its escape velocity is equal to or exceeds the speed of light.
But with that being said, I’d rather not be identified as a color but a person. And anyway, they say black but our skin color says otherwise. Call me Magnus, identify me as Magnus, I am Magnus.