Yesterday evening, I had my ritual check-in meeting with Clara Youngblood, the founder and CEO of Full Spectrum Child Care. These check-in meetings usually consist of monitoring my progress and growth within my FSCC internship and most importantly, personal mentorship. In yesterday’s meeting we discussed plans for the future FSCC online platform, which I am super excited for, and more specifically, colorism. Our conversation about colorism began through a discussion about the new Netflix series “Bridgerton”, a Shondaland show based in the Regency era centered around family, power, and love. While I've never watched the show, but was quite intrigued by the previews, Clara was able to provide her insight, having watched the show and given her unique perspective as a dark-skin Black woman. Admittedly, Clara explained that the show was really good and could not deny the well made attempts to diversify the cast and not rely on racially stereotypical roles for the cast members. There were plenty of Black, white, Asian-American and even Latinx folx in “Bridgerton”, but even in seeing the abundance of Black people in the show, Clara wasn’t able to fully see herself, as there were a scarce number of dark-skin characters and those that were featured were given no character development. Which brings me to my question of today’s article: What does diversity and inclusion look like to you?
Growing up, even as a multi-racial individual, I was raised by and brought up as a Black woman. It didn’t matter that my father was Mexican American, what mattered to those who raised me was that I was well aware and socially informed of my Blackness. In my family, I have family members of all shades of Blackness, even cousins who are red-heads, and same as me, they were brought up with pride in their Blackness. In my family bubble, there was no privilege nor no colorism nor favoritism, we were all equally valued and loved growing up and honestly, I couldn’t have asked for better familial circumstances. However, as I began to grow older and attend school and enter social circles, the forefront of my identity became less of the Blackness and culture I was raised to be so proud of and more about my privileges, given my ambiguity and social capital in the world and Black communities. When I was younger, I thought it was just my friends picking on me or even being shady, by making notes to point out and exclude my features from “authentic Blackness”, and while some of them were “jabs”, others were simply the truth. See, it’s a hard pill to swallow when you realize you have privilege, no matter how small or maybe even insignificant (to you). I didn’t realize that the color of my skin and even my features brought me unacknowledged or even unwanted favoritism and while it wasn’t something I could necessarily control, it also wasn’t something I could run away from either. In the beginning, as many of us do when we’ve been “checked” or made to think more critically of our role in the way others are oppressed, I was in denial and angry, and as a result victimized myself. It took me years to finally be at peace with my privilege and realize that it doesn’t make me a bad person, but that also doesn’t mean I should be feeling bad for myself or resentment towards others that make truthful statements about it. I’ve grown to acknowledge that there are many experiences of being a Black woman and since I am fair-skin and multi-racial, my experience will always differ from my darker skin counterparts who do not have the privilege I do of showing up and being received a certain way in various spaces. The more critically I thought of colorism and how it played a role in my life and those in my family and community, the more outspoken I became on the issue and began to advocate for my ‘sistas’ of all shades and complexions.
In doing so, I also had to challenge myself to be intentional about what I watched and who I listened to etc., and I noticed how colorism often happens right under our noses. Colorism isn’t only about skin color, it has more to do with racialized thinking. Racialized thinking is the belief that one narrative is the truth for all, which produces stereotypes. For example, one race equals one religion equals one way of living equals one culture and so on and so forth and through this assumption we place bias and unfair judgment on one’s worth. One of my most underrated and under-appreciated privileges growing up, was my ability to see myself in the characters I watched on TV and the women I listened to in music. Some of my favorite shows growing up and even today, have light-skin or even ambiguous lead characters and they are all portrayed as fair, good characters. My favorite shows include, Living Single, A Different World, The Proud Family, Raven Simone, Dear White People, Black-Ish, Martin and the list goes on. And while admittedly so, some of these shows are not even in my generation, regardless, I am still able to see myself in the lead female characters and those who look like me be praised and accepted in these shows, old and new. Even my most favorite show, Dear White People; so many of my friends tell me I remind them of Sam White, the protagonist of the film, and while I’m flattered, I cannot help but to notice that the same narratives are being displayed: fair skin protagonist and dark skin side kick. I often wonder how popular or received these shows would be if the protagonist was a dark skin woman.
As a Black woman with privilege, I believe that diversity and inclusion has to be more than simply seeing myself on screen. I want to see different shades and complexions of all communities and various narratives too. This may come as a surprise to some, but I am tired of seeing myself on screen. I'm ready to see my cousins, my friends, my colleagues, even my supervisor, Clara Youngblood in films and TV! Blackness is not a monolithic experience. Not every Black woman is fair skin, with a specific texture of hair or multi-racial background. I want to see different narratives for a change. I listen to my friends who remind me of my privilege often and instead of taking offense, I take notes because that’s what friends are supposed to do and as an ally, I am here to listen and advocate and learn. So what does diversity and inclusion mean to me? It means everyone gets a seat at the table, and by everyone I mean, every race and ethnicity and indigeneity, every ability, every color, every point of view, everyone because that’s the only way we as people can grow and learn from each other.