Marginality Within the Margins

Marginality Within the Margins by Julia M. Speller

If you're White, you re alright;

If you’re Yellow, you re mellow;

If you re Brown, stick around; but

If you’re Black get back!

Introduction

One of the affirmations of the Mission, Vision and Commitment statement at Chicago Theological Seminary says that we are committed as to the task of “equipping leaders who honor cultural and racial diversity while resolutely com- bating the forces of division and domination.” These forces of “division and domination” bring to mind the more commonly held conflicts along the lines of race, ethnicity, culture and sexual orientation. There are, however, marginalities within these margins as seen in the ethnic tensions among the Hispanic Latino/a cultures, the generational challenges within the Asian community and the emerging divisions between gay, lesbian, bisexual and transgendered persons in the homosexual community. In each case, “forces of division and domination” create experiences of marginality that prevent meaningful engagement and stifle genuine experiences of justice and mercy.

In this paper, I will describe yet another dimension of marginality that reinforces subtle yet real levels of self ׳hatred based on color. This is a marginality experienced in the lives of many African Americans and others of color that prevents the development the kind of healthy self ׳concept so necessary for full and productive participation in society. The context for this discussion will be laid by beginning with a brief story that depicts a rather common experience in the world of many African Americans. We will then examine some of the psychological manifestations of black shame and then go on to explore the historical impact of color symbolism. The purpose of this paper is to do more than simply identify the painful realities that exist within the margins. It is my hope that it will provide another set of lenses that we can use to focus in on the forces of division and domination that have gone unnoticed by the casual glance. We can then move on to deeper levels of conviction and begin to create additional ways to seriously live out our stated commitments to justice and mercy at this very important time in our history as an institution.

Black Shame

Once upon a time, before black was beautiful, a little five year old colored girl sat next to her white classmate during playtime. “Isn’t Susie a good girl to want to share her blocks with me,” the little girl thought. “She is pretty too. Look at her hair! It even moves when she walks, just like the girls on the Mickey Mouse Club.” They become friends. They played together, they shared secrets, they giggled during nap time, and they even stood side-by-side as they waited for their mothers each day after school.

“Fix my hair like Susies, Mama,” the little girl said one day. “Cut my bangs in the front and let the rest hang down so it can move when I walk.” “Fm sorry, baby,” her mother replied, “we are colored and our hair wont go like that. God made us different.”

“How could God do such a thing?” the little girl thought later. “I dont want to be different. I want to be pretty and good and have moving hair like Susie and the girls on the Mickey Mouse Club. But Mama said we are different: we are colored. “You know,” she continued to think, “there is no one like us on the Mickey Mouse Club. Maybe being colored is bad that I remember so vividly these conversations, experiences and feelings of my childhood as I considered the reality of blackness. This early reaction to one’s identity was not uncommon in the African American community, especially in the 1950’s. The television networks that brought the Mickey Mouse Club into the homes and heads of many children also portrayed family life as one in which everyone lived in a house, the father wore a suit and drove a car to work each day and all children owned bicycles. Each of these common images which I observed daily through the wonders of television, were things that I did not experience as an African American child who grew up in the housing projects on the West Side of Chicago. Granted, African American children were not the only ones who could not relate to a neat, suburban family lifestyle; we were not the only ones who had life expectations shaped by the fantasy world of “Father Knows Best,” “Donna Reed”and “Leave It to Beaver.” But somehow, for us, there were unseen levels of psychological conditioning that were exacerbated by the experiences of being black in America, like the time when my mother gave me stern instructions to only use a restroom marked “colored” and never, under any circumstances use those marked “white,” while visiting my grandmother in Alabama.

My initial assumption that different meant bad, consequently, led me to believe, deep in my heart, that African American people were living under a curse from God. This understanding was not confirmed by the biblical story of Ham, for at that point in my life I was unaware of the myth, but was confirmed daily by the world around me. Over 40 years later, I have to ask myself, “Have things really changed that much? Now that African Americans are a more visible part of the life of this nation are we now immune to the negative conditioning of the past?” I submit that there is something much deeper in our society that afflicted me at an early age and is still alive and well as we approach the 21st century. It is grounded in the reality of internalized self ׳hatred that has historical roots and is still a lived reality for many African Americans. It not only prevents full realization of worth as human beings and meaningful participation in society, it also creates destructive psychological frameworks that are often hard to identify and even harder to root out.

In the book, Shame and Guilt: A Psychoanalytic and a Cultural Study, Gerhart Piers and Milton Singer, combine the disciplines of psychology and anthropology to study the structures, cycles and pathologies associated with shame and guilt. Rather than focus on guilt, in this discussion we will examine shame informed by color. Piers and Singer define shame as a mechanism of socialization that often achieves social conformity through identification. This is much like the shame I experienced as a child when I was faced with the reality of my blackness and the ways that it informed my self-concept and defined my place in the larger social order. It is important to note that this experience is not an isolated event but is one that is shared by sisters and brothers of color through- out the African Diaspora. This phenomenon becomes quite apparent when one examines the impact of color consciousness on African Americans in their interactions with the dominant culture as well as within black communities.

Robert Hood, in his book, Begrimed and Black: Christian Traditions on Blacks and Blackness, states that “skin color, unlike any other physical characteristic fixes boundaries, status, stigma, privilege, disadvantages, self-esteem for a people in the human community.” For African Americans, skin color has historically elicited feelings of shame, making it impossible to blend into the America melting pot, as immigrants have done and relegating them instead to a different source of identity. The boundaries, stigmas and disadvantages of the black experience in America, moreover, have been made stronger and more easily  perpetuated upon African Americans because of this visual difference. But more important to this discussion, the varying hues of “jet black, blue black, black as the ace of spades; dark brown, brown-skinned, medium brown, redbone, yellow, high yellow, light skinned, light, bright, and almost white,” found within the race have given birth to an internal racial caste system that supports an experienee of shame that is rooted in comparison and competition. It also highlights the tendency for a number of African Americans to not only to be ashamed of blackness but to valorize those within the race that experience social conformity because of their lighter hue. This proclivity toward shame is seen clearly through the verse below:

If you're White, you re alright;

If you’re Yellow, you re mellow;

If you re Brown, stick around; but

If you’re Black get back!

Through this familiar verse from the African American experience, several important aspects of black identity and shame come forth. The most obvious message is the existence of a distinct caste system built around the wide spectrum of color in the African American community, placing the lightest at the top and the darkest at the bottom. A closer look at this verse, however, reveals a specific designation of values that correspond, incrementally, to each hue and that also bears witness to an accompanying psychosis.

If you re White, you re alright. To be alright is to be OK with others; to be liked and accepted without reserve. But the companion to this state of alrightness is a subtle yet dangerous transition in attitude that causes one to connect the physical attribute of being fair-skinned with actually being white, with all the privilege therein. It creates a distinct hegemony that assumes the power to establish standards and to define realities in the black experience by virtue of its privilege and sanctioned by its whiteness. If you re White you re alright aligns those in the African American community with the fairest complexions — those who can “pass” — as being in the most desirable state. This is because of the perceived privilege that results from a hue that permits blending into the dominant culture.

If you’re Yellow, you're mellow. To be mellow is to be easy to relate to; smooth and agreeable, not threatening to the status quo. But the danger of being yellow is found in its close proximity with whiteness. Self-deception enters the equation in the form of an elitism that views yellowness as equal to whiteness in both color and privilege, when in reality its obvious distance from whiteness attests to its corruptibility. If you re Yellow you re mellow defines those in the African American community who are considered “high yellow” or “bright” as being in a suspended state between shame and pride; ashamed of their inability to totally blend but proud that they are not as dark as others.

If you’re Brown, stick around. To be asked to “stick around” suggests a definite environ of reserved tolerance. In the state of brownness, there are no illusions of grandeur only a nagging gratitude to those in power for the mere acknowledgement of one’s presence. The result is a debilitating state of humility that replaces any modicum of self ־ ׳esteem with “scratchin’ and shufflin’”. If you’re Brown stick around characterizes those in the African American community who are “brown ׳skinned” as being in a state of grieved accommodation, accepting their status without hope of blending.

If you’re Black, get back! The exclamatory statement, “Get Back!” means to go away and to separate oneself from the presence of others. It is a phrase spoken to a leper in the presence of the untainted, uttered by those who fear being defiled or corrupted. The tragedy of blackness is that it arouses fear and disgust, not only from those who observe the darkened skin but also from those who wear it. It becomes a self-fulfilling prophecy without hope of redemption. If you’re Black, get back! labels those in the African American community of the darkest hue as being in the ultimate state of undesirability; repugnant in the dominant culture and the brunt of condescension in the black.

While these lines and the accompanying analysis may seen a bit harsh, together they create a too familiar epigram that describes a real psychotic perception of color consciousness that is a lived reality for many in the black experience. It is rooted in shame and delineates a highly operative hierarchy, with all its accompanying powers and limitations, creating marginality within the margins. It also takes on more complicated levels as some in the “white” category choose to hate their fair skin, deny any level of privilege and seek instead to “prove” that they are really black in spite of appearances. Similarly, many at the other end of the spectrum equate their darkness with a direct connection to the Motherland without any regard for the complicated social, political, economic and religions implications and responsibilities that come with such an identity.

This preoccupation with color is not uncommon among peoples of color who experienced colonization or enslavement and who desired to associate as closely as possible with the oppressor, in a hope to assuage their shame. What has further complicated this reality in the United States is the inherently illogical definition of who is black: “anyone with a measurable amount of Negro blood.” This definition has created the more familiar categories of mulatto, quadroon and octoroon as well as the lesser known designations of cascos, sambo, mango, mustifee and mustifino6 to describe the varying degrees of white ancestry among African Americans. These categories, while used descriptively, had no political significance in the United States unlike Brazil, where the mulatto category described those of fairer complexion and was a socially acceptable class in Brazil. Following instead, the legal status of partus sequiter ventren—”the child follows the conditions of the mother,” these categories in the United States gave rise to a distinctive psychological caste system within the race that continues to be divisive and demeaning and that further illustrates the profound presenee of black shame and highlights the reality of marginality within the margins. Given the almost universal knowledge and sentiment of the above in the black community and the identity crisis that it implies, the pronouncement of being “Black and Proud” in the 1960s and 1970s was truly a sign of enlightened consciousness and heightened self-love among African Americans. But the question arise as to what circumstances created the climate.

Color Symbolism

The mystery of color symbolism and its impact on human behavior has chah lenged scholars for decades, however, recent studies have shed new and specific light on the relationship between blackness, whiteness and identity. Robert Hood uncovered evidence that as early as 1500 BCE in India, black skin held an undesirable connotation as revealed in the ancient interactions between the Aryas—the light-skinned invaders and conquerors of northwestern India and the Dasas who were the dark skinned inhabitants. After many conquests by the Aryas, the word dosa in Sanskrit became associated with the dark skinned slaves usually found at the lower end of the social caste system.

By the 8th century BCE, however, the writings of Homer revealed that references to dark complexioned persons in the West had “little pejorative or racial meaning,” and were utilized primarily to describe and distinguish between the many cultural and racial inhabitants of the Mediterranean and North African regions. Artifacts such as vases, bowls and coinage of the early Greeks depicting Negroid figures equally represented alongside whites further validated this conelusion. It was, however, the curiosity of the Romans in the first century that resulted in the creation of a “mythic structure” centering around the presence of Ethiopians and Nubians in the Greek and Roman world. The importation of “black pygmies as entertainers and servants,” by the Roman upper-class was one source of these inchoate myths.

In Homer’s Iliad (3.6), for example, they were portrayed as a race of tiny peopie who did battle with cranes in their south African home. Later, sculptures of the Egyptian deity Bos resembled African pygmies who were thought to possess the power to protect fertility and ward off evil. Some of the earliest signs of negative references to blacks in Roman culture came from Cicero during the second century in his description of Ethiopians as “stupid,” noting a corruption of the word Aethiope that had usually been translated as “blackhead” or “blackmoor” in Latin texts.14 Hence, special values began to evolve making the colors black and white the most evocative hues. While the former represented woe, gloom, dark' ness, dread, death, curse and mourning, the latter connoted triumph, light, innocence, joy, purity, divine power and happiness, revealing contrasting perceptions and responses.

It was through Christian thought, however, that blackness received a moral category in the early patristic interpretations of biblical texts dealing with dark ׳

ness, blackness and Satan, says Hood. Throughout Medieval history, this color symbolism garnered further religious significance through the language and images of the Church. The dichotomous descriptions of white angelic images of heaven over and against the darkness of the devil and hell were companioned by the conflict between Christ and Satan as a battle between Light and Darkness.

In later centuries, Puritanism concretized this already pervasive color symbolism through its theological association of the “contagiousness of color [with the] contagiousness of sin.”17 When Puritanism, grounded in an ethos of election and chosenness, was transplanted to the American colonies and later enmeshed into their myths and practices, it produced an intolerant and inhospitable attitude toward the visual image of darkness in the black race. Being defined as a stain or pollution, moreover, sin was reinterpreted to associate darkness of the skin with darkness of the soul, resulting in attitudes and gestures of repulsion and separation and creating a more damaging category of dehumanization based on color.

The perceptions of color symbolism took on more concrete manifestations in the context of slavery in the South. While the muscle and sweat of the African slaves became the machinery for this lucrative enterprise, it was not enough to simply shackle their bodies; the bondage of their minds and souls guaranteed perpetual fidelity. Into the enlarging prison of color, where words like “sin” and “pollution” mirrored the walls and defined the psychological domiciles of African slaves, the concept of “divine curse” was added through the utterly untenable, greatly distorted, yet widely circulated myth of Ham.

This biblical story, used historically to justify the subordination of black people and culture, is traced to not only Christian but Islamic and Jewish traditions. In each faith, Africa and its progeny were seen as descendants of Ham and subject to Noah’s curse on Canaan. In the 4th and 5th centuries CE, through the rabbinic writings and commentaries of the Midrash from the Hebrew Myths: The Book of Genesis y Ham is purported to have “unmanned” (castrated) his father Noah, thus receiving punishment:

Since you have disabled me from doing ugly things in the blackness of night, Canaan’s children shall be born black and ugly. Moreover, because you twisted your head around to see my nakedness, your grandchildren’s hair shall be twisted into kinks, and their eyes red; again because your lips jested at misfortune, they shall swell; . . .

Hood does not believe, however, that this early “extracanonical Jewish” tradition had much influence on the interpretation of Ham seen during the medieval period. Its later re-emergence, however, during the 15th century, coinciding with the beginning of the African slave trade and focusing on the command for Ham to be a slave of his brothers garnered more value as it provided strong biblical sanction for slavery. Hence, the exploitive use of sacred scripture further established the negative symbolism of blackness in the culture at large, tightening the vise of self-hatred and disdain around the minds of the daughters and sons of Africa who found themselves in America.

Just as African Americans, through distorted color symbolisms, have too often embodied the pathology associated with color, many with white skin have likewise bestowed upon themselves its virtue, perceiving themselves to be living embodiments of the same. This has had disastrous repercussions for both races. In the dominant culture it has created what C. Eric Lincoln refers to as a “presumption of uniqueness,” understood as a prevailing attitude of arrogance with- in America’s pluralistic society that elicits power and control over all who are different. In the African American context it has not only created a disdain for blackness but a “yearning after whiteness” that may consciously succumb to the reality of dark skin but unconsciously seeks to get as close to whiteness as possible.

Frantz Fanon, in his book Black Skin, White Mask explores the psychological implications of this denunciation of blackness as seen in the context of the colonial racism experienced by Africans in Diaspora, particularly those in the Antilles of the Caribbean. He posits that there is a “collective unconscious” among blacks that associates black skin with “ugliness, sin, darkness, and immorality.” In this ontological state, a variety of strategies are created by blacks to attempt to “elude the stigma” of the race that include the assimilation of the surrounding white culture and any personality or behavioral changes that might serve as insulation from the damning reality of blackness. These strategies create “masks” of whiteness, worn by blacks to hide their shame and they reveal moments of only transitory affirmation when being accepted by white culture is a perpetually elusive primary goal.

Adding to Fanon’s psychological interpolation, which may be viewed as extreme by some, E. Franklin Frazier in his book, Black Bourgeoisie cites sociological proclivities that yield equally deceptive results among the African American middle-class. While Frazier does not describe masks of whiteness, he does note attempts by some in the black middle-class to conceal their feelings of inferiority and insecurity by wearing masks of status in the black community. Fully aware of the disdain of whites, they choose instead to agree with the old adage, “its better to reign in hell than serve in heaven;” they found it easier to lord over their black sisters and brothers than to compete with those in the dom- inant culture. This experience of middle-class privilege also has its roots in the legacy of color because of the historic connection between color and class in the black community. In the late 19th and early 20th centuries, the black bourgeois was a predominately mulatto class. In an attempt to maintain “purity” in terms of both color and economics, some of the members of this class chose to intermarry and resist mixing with darker persons. So while Fanon’s mask of whiteness sought to create for blacks an illusion of sameness among whites, Frazier’s masks of status forged a different illusion in the black community based on class and complexion. In each case self-delusion and self-hatred are operative, revealing alternative ways of coping with the shame of blackness.

Conclusion

It becomes clear from this discussion that a destructive caste system based on color is operative in the African American community and has resulted from centuries of negative color symbolism leaving feelings of shame in the minds and lives of many daughters and sons of the African. This has led to devastating repercussions on black self-understanding that have placed limits on sustained levels of racial pride and self-love. In light of this reality, many have sought ways to denounce the shame but in so doing, have also divided and weakened relations within the black community as well as the larger society. It is important to note, however, that while most African Americans have been exposed to these experiences, many have been able to rise above it and have managed to create and maintain solid examples of self-love and self-determination in spite of the historic realities — but even here, many wounds remain tender and many psyches remain fragile.

As we move into the next century with new energy and ideas about how to make space at the table for all voices, especially those on the margins, it is important to be aware of and sensitive to the realities of marginality within the margins. African Americans in our churches and communities must face head- on the devastating history but must also work hard to bring wholeness to the table by loving and embracing who we are and Whose we are. Those outside of the black community are challenged to and appreciate the energy and passion that come from black pride in a new way. The contemporary rhetoric that centers around Africentricity (that is defined as a world view and a point of orientation that begins in Africa and allows Africans to be subjects of historical experience rather than objects)29, should be seen as a corrective or a new starting point for African Americans seeking greater levels of empowerment through self-affirmation. It must be realized that being pro-black does not equate with being anti-white and that before African Americans can bring wholeness to the table we must find ways to repair the psychological and spiritual damage goes so deep. Sometimes it is necessary to return to your roots before you can see your future!

This presents a challenge for those of us who are responsible for preparing women and men for ministry in the real world, as they face the realities of this and other forms of marginality. One suggestion is to begin with the imago Dei as the definitive example of personhood. This invites reflection on the connection between one’s personhood and God’s divine purpose. It is important not to stop here but to open up this theological category to also include the notion of imago relattonis.30 In this way, we are reminded that being made in God’s image brings with it a call to be in responsible relationship with one another. This dual charge of identity and relationship, being and accountability speaks to us all — those at the center, those on the margins and those within the margins. It is only through this kind of enlightened theological awareness that we are able to create more sensitive attitudes and more meaningful strategies for expressing and living out our commitment as an institution that seeks prepare women and men for transformative ministry. Beginning at this theological center we are better equipped to reexamine the social, economic, political and ethical implications of this marginal experience and begin to build stronger and more resilient bridges of reconciliation and understanding that will connect us in new and exciting ways with all of God’s people in this world.

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