Anti-black racism still alive, and as insiduous as ever

It just struck me today (well that is not exactly true, I have thought this for years, but just roll with it): the problem is not just difference, the problem is - LITERALLY - "blackness"... Well, no, that is not exactly right either. Maybe more accurately, it's hair type... I don't know. Well, a combination of both. Let me explain.

I was reading the following - and very interesting - article on the Huffington Post today, about:

Who Is Bobby Jindal? The Good, The Bad, And The Ugly

"...But in an interesting development, the same quarters that have raised doubts about freshman Sen. Barack Obama's national security bona fides seem relatively unconcerned about Jindal's potential place on a ticket headed by a 71-year-old whose heath has been the subject of focus by the media..."

And it got me thinking: There really hasn't been as much of an issue with Bobby Jindal being a potential VP for John McCain, even though he is darker, and of Indian-descent (and I mean from India) - and that is just GREAT!!! And the VP is a heart-beat away from the Presidency (something that is made even more critical with John McCain's old age). Yet, we saw a great deal of resistance in Appalachia towards the similarly hued Barack Obama, specifically because he identifies as a Black man. That, and the whole foreign-sounding name, but I contend that if his name was Bill O'bummer, the situation would still be the same.

And this has to do with many realities. Part of the reason skin color is the problem, is the long history of denigration of people with darker skin by people with lighter skin, in many places in the world; particularly the long history of vilification, demonization, and/or animalization of melanin-endowed Africans (and Aborigines) by melanin-deprived Europeans.

With the European conquest of the world, and the control of world media by the West, the prejudices of Europe came to create, regenerate and/or reinforce the prejudices and complexes across the planet (including in Africa itself, but that is another, long and complicated story), thus generating our current situation, in which, consciously or subliminally, the world has been forced to internalize the tall White European male, and the skinny white blonde female model, as somewhat of an ideal to aspire to.

As a result, and for other related reasons, such as the rise in social status and safety that comes with "White-washing" in this West-dominated world:

• some Africans (and people of African-descent) bleach their skin, relax their hair and wear weaves,
  
• some "mongoloid" (for lack of another term in my head, if you know one enlighten me) Asians mess with their eyelids,
  
• some light-skinned Black people tried to "pass",
  
• some Asians, Arabs and light skinned people of African descent carry parasols to stay as light-skinned as they can,
  
• thick black women are under-appreciated,
  
• a lighter skin is considered a mark of greater beauty and status than a dark skin in many places around the world,
  
• some Jews (as well as some Latinos of European-like pigmentation) worked hard to be integrated in the domain of "Whiteness" in the US, with varying degrees of success, etc, etc.

But I digress. All this is to say that the racial issue is still real, and more internalized and insidious than we give it credit. And it has raised its head in the US campaign for President in a special way, and I am tired of people trying to dismiss it, instead of dealing with it. As a dark-skinned, Black man, I am not, nor do I feel, inferior to any person who happens to be born in an area in which his/her ancestors developed less melanin. Yet there seems to be a number of people out there who think I am, without ever even meeting me, simply on account of my African-descent. That is simply outrageous, and I keep on wondering why this is not addressed more vocally, more passionately, and with more seriousness... by White people who claim not to be racist.

And that is when I start wondering: what makes me different from White people, Asians, Melanesians, etc? I am so used to focusing on all the things we have in common (that is my way to survive the daily small denigrations, like being followed around Dillard's), that I don't often ask myself that question. What is it that, besides History, makes it so that people of African descent seem to be more vilified and denigrated - and by more sections of humanity - than any other group in the world? Why is it that it seems like so many humans seem to feel they have more in common with every other section of humanity than they have with Black people? I mean there has to be a reason!

I thought it was skin-color at first. I mean it seems like the most obvious one. But then again there are Indians who are as dark as I am, even darker; and although they may be less-considered in their country because of their skin, it is still not the same kind of abhorrence. What did I ever do to the world to be considered inferior, evil, lazy, useless, demonic, corrupt, or cursed, by default, simply for being born with a higher level of pigmentation, under the radiant sun of the motherland? Why should Obama be so vilified today, not for the evil of his actions, but for the origins of his Y chromosome? Aren't we human too? What was it that bothered some White people so much about us, that they would consider any other race before they would consider Black people?

I couldn't find an answer, so I decided to have fun with this, and came to the conclusion that it has to be the hair. It is the one fundamental difference between Black people and the rest of the world. So different in fact, that Don Imus used it as a racial epithet ("nappy headed h@#$") with the consequences that we know. Our hair creates a very different experience of life. Just ask any Black woman you know. Or even better, asked any mixed woman, with a white mother, who had no idea what to do with her hair because she inherited so-called "bad-hair".

I will always remember a White female friend of mine who asked to touch my hair, and compared it to carpet hair (if she wasn't a woman, I am not sure I would have been so gracious in my response to her). I mean it is quite distinctive. Most people, even the straight-haired Japanese ladies, can go to any hair-salon in the US, France, Australia, South Africa, and even Congo, and they are relatively sure to have their hair treated properly. But for a Black woman, it's a whole different ballgame She has to find a specific hair-salon, with people (generally Black people) who specialize in Black people hair. The same is true for men. I mean the fact that we often cannot share a seat at a barbershop must be the reason why we are vilified, right? right?

Help me out here!!

I have a dream...

I am no perfect man. Far from it. I was born a Congolese man, in Congo, in relative privilege, and I did not always take full advantage of the opportunities that were offered to me, and that others in my country did not have. And when I did take advantage of them, I did not always capitalize on them as much as should have. Now, I see my country crying of hunger, disease, and poverty, while sitting on a gold mine, and I feel a responsibility to help change that. Because I have a dream.

I was raised by parents – and particularly a mother – who understood the soundness, and the benefits of raising a human being with complementary identities, a citizen of the world. I am first and foremost Congolese, and African. But I am also strongly, and proudly a world citizen.

I have had the privilege to visit, live in, study, work and travel throughout Africa, Europe and North America, and to meet, associate, interact and form long-lasting ties and friendships with people of all races, all colors, all genders, of various beliefs, from all the corners of the world. What I learned is that we are more similar than we sometimes want to believe. We are all humans, with similar needs and wants, and we are more resourceful and innovative than we sometimes appear to be. And so, I had a dream.

Having a dream is now quite cliché, I recognize that. But my personal heroes, including Martin Luther King Jr., Mahatma Gandhi, Yeshua Ben Yusef, Patrice Lumumba, Dikembe Mutombo, Nelson Mandela, Oprah Winfrey, Jimmy Carter, and my own Mother, are people who overcame unbelievable odds to rise above others, and still struggled to bring forth meaningful and long lasting change in people’s lives, because they believed in the principle of fairness, equality and justice for all. So yes, I have a dream.

I dream of the day when Congolese people will shed the complexes born out of years of humiliation under colonialism. I dream of the day when we will be as proud of our nkokos’ mud-huts, as we are of the skyscrapers we want to build. I dream of the day when Congolese people will be as proud of their colorful attires, their raffia outfits, and their loincloths, as they are of their western business suits. I dream of the day when Congolese men learn to respect Congolese women. I dream of the day when we can abandon our clannic and tribal rivalries, and start thinking in terms of cultural promotion, and community development. I dream of the day when Africans will have access to the fullness of what is known of their proud, long, and rich history. I dream of the day when Congolese and other African people will be aware of, appreciate and internalize their rightful place as equals among the nations of this planet.

I dream of that day, in Congo and in Africa, when the value of a smile and an attentive ear, will be valued higher than a frown and the back of a hand, in educating our children, and in daily life. I dream of the day when Congolese people celebrate and appreciate knowledge, science and freedom, as much as they venerate customs, religion and traditions. I dream of the day when we will marvel at the technological achievements of the West with admiration, but not with shameful envy. I dream of the day when all young Congolese people will embrace modernity out of a rational sense of practicality, instead of a deep seeded, and long-taught sense of inferiority and inadequacy. I dream of the day when we will stop to simply mimic the West, and instead encourage those in the West that are willing and respectful enough, to work with us to nurture, promote, celebrate and reward ingenuity and innovation from our own sons and daughters.

I dream of the day when all black Africans will inwardly AND outwardly see white people, not as an indomitable superior force, source of “Civilization”, but instead, as equal partners, as equal members within this race we call “humans”, that spawned many “Civilizations” of which theirs just happened to be the most... "actively" (understatement of the year) proselytizing. I dream of the day when people of European descent will see me and my fellow Africans as "brothers and sisters" to work and compete with, instead of black sheep to eliminate, or pawns to manipulate. I dream of the day when the Western languages we inherited from colonialism will cease to be barriers for African Unity at the grassroots level. I dream of the day when speaking English, French, Portuguese, or now Chinese, will be seen not as a symbol of inherent social superiority, but as wonderful tools for development, and international communication.

I dream of the day when all Africans, the Congolese included, will be given the tools and the ever so needed information to be true, involved and active members of this global village we are creating. I dream of the day when the average Congolese person will have the luxury, the resources, and the time to be involved with, and care about such important, yet ultimately secondary, issues as global warming, embryonic stem-cell research, nuclear physics, sexual rights and animal cruelty.

I dream of the day when Congolese and other African leaders will seek our respect, our trust, our pleasure and our votes, and not our fear, our submission, our misery and our death. I dream of the day when African leaders, the Congolese ones included, will seek the long-term glory of history, statesmanship, respect and admiration, instead of the short-term thrill of material wealth, unlimited power, unavoidable paranoia, and muted vilification.

I dream, yes, I dream of that day when young Congolese people will travel to the West in search of alternative opportunities, and not out of desperation. I dream of that day when I can go from Kinshasa to Lubumbashi, Kananga, Kisangani, Matadi, Goma or Gemena, Nairobi or Lusaka, Harare or Johannesburg, in a sedan, on a paved road. I dream of that day when Kinshasa the bin, will once again be Kinshasa the beautiful. I dream of that day when Congolese people will be returned at their rightful place as full members, and maybe even leaders of the African community.

I dream of that day when Congolese and other African people will truly feel like they have a legitimate stake in what happens in their country, their continent, and on our planet. I dream of that day, when every child born in Congo will be given a pen instead of an AK. I dream of the day when every child - every child - born in Congo will have three square meals a day, a decent education, a conscious loving family, hygienic health facilities, drinkable water and electricity, a sense of purpose, and at the very least a fighting chance to become a proud, valued and productive member of the global village.

It is a wonderful dream, and it is one that I believe we can at least partly achieve. We are admittedly far from that dream, but I will sure do my part to realize it... or die trying! Who is with me?