The Halle Berry Effect

I read an interesting blog today at the suggestion of my fiance that posed the question "what if black women were white women?" (http://www.shadowandact.com/?p=14378) The author made the argument that white women have enjoyed a certain level of reverence and protection in society due to their complexion and if black women were viewed in the same way, beauty rituals and many other things to which we pay very little attention would be drastically different. 

I found this question particularly interesting because I've lead several discussions this semester with my students regarding the protection of white women in the South prior to the Civil Rights Movement, the "One Drop Rule", the view of fair skinned versus dark skinned black women, and very specifically the murder of Emmett Till for whistling at a white woman as an impetus for the Civil Rights Movement. They were shocked and appalled at the thought of anyone, especially a young boy, being murdered in such a gruesome way over something so naive and trivial. They were also quite dismayed by the treatment of black women in general as described in Blue for Mister Charlie by James Baldwin in which Baldwin gives two examples of interracial relationships involving a white man and a fair skinned, black woman; the reverse, obviously being strictly forbidden and punishable by the condoned practice of lynching.

However, the author also argued that, in a society where black was the new white, "biracial women would be “in” because the hard features of white women wouldn't prevent the fragile genes of “black beauty” from peeking through. Men would suddenly have the desire to date “ethnic,” non-black women since they would look “closer to black” than blond women—at least they wouldn't look like white women." While I agree that white women are valued over black women, I also think that fair skinned black women can be grouped right with them because biracial women are and have always been "in".

The "master's" illegitimate daughter has always been an object of obsession for both black and white men; she is black enough to be fair game for black men, light enough to be fair game for white men, and just the right mix of both to be a slightly unattainable object of desire for both. The fairer her skin, the more options she has. She's been the closest thing most black men will ever get to having a white woman and the white man's guilty pleasure--his secret lover or dirty little whore as in the two examples Baldwin gives in Blue for Mister Charlie. 

I would like to add to that argument that her body shape is a factor. It is no big secret to the average black woman that she is more likely to be approached by black, hispanic or latino men because of the attraction to her naturally, full features i.e. hips, lips, boobs and butt. Unlike the average black woman, biracial women often lack some of the fuller features so appealing to men in those ethnic groups but the lack of those features gives white men more license to justify their attraction and a biracial woman more license to pass for white.

Initially, when I mentioned these additions to my fiance, he tried to understand my position by putting a face to the description by asking if I meant women such as Halle Berry and Paula Patton. No sooner did I concur when my fiance jokingly added my name to the list. I immediately disagreed but, upon further examination of my daily life, I hesitated about maintaining my position.

I'll admit that not only was I once a diversity hire, I was hired for my looks. People often ask me if one of my parents is white or if I'm mixed with something and admittedly, my employer's input in the decision to hire me was "let's hire that pretty Indian girl." I guess that my long, dark hair and caramel colored skin lead them to believe I was Indian (still not sure if they meant feather or dot but I guess it doesn't matter as long as I got the job). While I certainly don't hope to go thru life getting jobs this way, I can also only do so much to control the way others see me.

I often feel as though I should walk around with a sign listing the answers to the most commonly asked questions I get:  

1. Yes, my hair is mine; I didn't purchase it.
2. Yes, both of my parents are black.
3. Yes, I'm sure that they're black.
4. No, I don't have a white parent.
5. No, I'm not Pakistani, Indian, or Ethiopian...that I know of.

Maybe this would prevent some of the confusion and some of the lengthy stares. I'm not a novelty. I'm not a curiosity. I shouldn't be idolized. I'm not the eight wonder of the ancient world. I'm human. I'm an American and for better or worse, we're all starting to look like this.

Staring at me only makes me nervous that I've inadvertently left spinach in my teeth, a booger on my face, or makes me think you want to steal my purse or cell phone.

I'm black enough to say if you are biding your time to attempt the latter, you're likely to find out how black I really am.