You don’t know black

“No offense, but you’re not really black—you’re white.... You don’t talk like a black person, and you don’t listen to black music.... I can’t dance—I’m not black.” Such statements never cease to baffle me for two reasons. One, if you preface something with “no offense,” you’re probably about to say something offensive. The second issue is more complex. Such statements imply that being black is determined by something more than the color of one’s skin. Whether the ideas associated with being black are positive or negative do not matter, but the fact that people have a checklist to confirm an individual’s “blackness” is concerning. Unfortunately, I have often found that these additional requirements are derogatory. Especially at Duke, we are eager to wrap people up in racial boxes, rather than look at them as individuals.

Let’s start with the issues of speech and music. What about an articulate individual makes them stand out as white or not black? Is it that people subconsciously or consciously expect black people to have slurred speech full of slang, expletives and the “N” word? People from different places speak differently, and, even within any given geographical area, people can belong to a plethora of races. Also, a broad range of factors and experiences form musical preferences. Children are not born with the desire to listen to Beethoven, nor do they crave the lyrical complexity of Soulja Boy. Tastes develop over time and can largely be due to environment and nurturing; the melanin that makes skin darker does not alter the physiology of eardrums.

When someone says, “You don’t dress black,” they seem to draw on some sort of guideline that black people follow when choosing their outfits. Attire that might be considered “preppy” is deemed “not black,” while anything “gangsta” is automatically “black.” What about an outfit classifies an individual as black or not? More importantly, what kind of assumptions would cause one to be surprised by a well-dressed black man? Pardon me if I refrain from dressing up like Lil Wayne, who prefers to make his boxers as much of a fashion statement as his jeans. Music, fashion and vocabulary preferences have no bearing on a person’s color, yet for some reason we attribute different preferences to different races.

It seems that we often take a few tidbits of information from our limited experiences and make broad generalizations about other races. These cases show that stereotypes of black people frequently imply a lower socioeconomic status or intelligence, while the white stereotype is associated with an upper-class background. The issue is not unique to black people, but it is a common problem with other races, regardless of whether the stereotypes are positive or negative. “There are so many Asians in that class! I don’t stand a chance.... I have a Camry. I know, it’s such a brown car....” Any of these sound familiar? Sometimes at Duke, we throw phrases such as these around as jokes, but that doesn’t mean we don’t believe these “jokes” often conceal some of the truth.

One of the saddest things about statements like these is their frequent exchange between people of the same race. It is bad enough for someone of a different color or race to make comments based on stereotypes, but why do we perpetuate these generalizations among ourselves? Do we do it for the sake of humor? Is it for a sense of belonging? Perhaps it isn’t until we’re on the negative or receiving end of a stereotype that we truly understand how damaging they can be.

A teammate once told me that stereotypes are true. So all Asians are bad drivers and white men can’t jump? If we take this dangerous stance, then what happens to the people who do not fit the mold? They are considered outliers or exceptions, when in reality there could be no correlation between their race or color, and the patterns we’ve observed in our daily lives. It is one thing to make a generalization based on statistical data, but according to Merriam Webster’s definition, a stereotype comes from “an oversimplified opinion, prejudiced attitude or uncritical judgment.”

As an elementary school student, I remember growing angry when people called me black. “My skin is brown, not black,” I would say. I was so confused, because I just saw people as people, and I could not understand why skin color seemed to be so important to others. The only thing I knew at that point was that everyone I met was a potential friend. Granted, this was an oversimplified and naive outlook, but there was something beautiful about it. The child who has not been taught to make sweeping judgments or statements about people has no prejudice in how he or she will treat individuals. Think about how much better we would know people if we were not continuously trying to associate their behavior with a skin color. Wouldn’t it be nice to let go of the stereotypes and stigmas, and to just see people as people?

Caleb Duncason is a Pratt senior. His column runs every other Friday. Follow Caleb on Twitter @CMDuncanson