How to Be Black (13 page)

The most important thing in this situation is not to draw attention to yourself. Don't deliberate too long. It is worse to make no choice than to linger too long on what choice to make. If people notice you thinking about it, they'll put two and two together. They'll assume you're stuck because you can't decide if you should just devour all available watermelon right there from the line. So, yes, remain calm, but also just do
something
. If watermelon is the only fruit, you are in the clear, and the gods are with you. No one can read into your choice if you never really had a choice. Enjoy it, and congratulations! Watermelon is delicious.

If there are segregated plates of fruit, I suggest a four-to-one ratio of non-watermelon to watermelon. Look, they know you want it.
You
know you want it. So if you conspicuously avoid it, that's an admission right there: guilt by omission. In the case of a mixed-fruit bowl, you will have to be comfortable with the unknown. In this case, leave it to fate. If you dip that oversize spoon into the bowl, and it comes back full of nothing but watermelon, so be it. Start singing the theme song to
Good Times
, and just roll with the absurdity of the moment. In this unlikely event, I recommend you joke about it with other employees, because if you don't, they'll assume you have some magical powers of watermelon magnetism, and that's not an idea we want out in the world.
*

Your drinking

There may be a relatively open bar situation at this party. Even more than the watermelon threat, in this arena, you Must. Be. Extremely. Careful. Unlike after-work drinks with colleagues, the company holiday party lasts longer, and people get looser. Also, everyone will be there. Marriages have ended because someone drank too much and said the wrong thing or grabbed the wrong part of the wrong person at the company holiday party. You cannot afford this. You are a rare representative of your kind. Think about your people!

While everyone around you may decide to let it all hang out, you have a responsibility to maintain a bit more control. Don't drink too much. Don't end up alone with someone else's date. And when anyone at all asks you how you like working at the company, you tell that person you fucking love it here and can't imagine working with a better group of people.

Your dancing

If there's music and at least a four-square-foot area of floor, people are going to dance, and they are going to expect you to join them. That's the way it is. Most Americans have grown up on a steady media diet of well-choreographed dancing by black people. You have big, custom-made, Hollywood-backed shoes to fill.

If you are not a good dancer, that's fine. It really is. Just make sure to compensate by keeping a drink in your hand and being extra-talkative. Not every black person can dance or enjoys the act. President Obama can't dance. We all saw him on
The Ellen DeGeneres Show
, and we got over it. Your coworkers will get over it, too.

The greater peril exists for those who actually
can
dance.
*
Proceed with extreme caution.

If you are a good dancer and actually enjoy it, you should ease into the act. Hang out on the edge of the dance floor and two-step to the beat. Then walk away. A few songs later, come back and do the same, maybe adding a little something extra but always making sure to include your coworkers in your moves. For some of you this will be difficult, because you're so naturally good, and dancing brings such joy, but you must fight the instinct to go rogue and launch into a Soul Train Moment.
*

Once you go down the path of the Soul Train Moment, there is no return. Your coworkers are biologically programmed to form a circle around you, start clapping and chanting your name. At first, you think, “This is great! I'm amazing! I'm the best dancer in the world!” After three songs, however, you start to feel a little tired and a bit thirsty. You slow down, and start looking for a crack in the circle so you can return to your table and grab some water. You realize you can't see your date. You just want to go, but you can't. Because now you've excited the mob, and they keep chanting, “Go [Your Name]! Go [Your Name]!” and they make sure the DJ keeps it on hip-hop 'cause that's what you like, and when you try to push your way out of the circle, your cubicle mate exclaims, “Whoa! I had no idea you were such a great dancer! You're like the best dancer ever!” and then he pretends to keep up with you for a while, puts his arm around your shoulders, and whispers in your ear, “If you ever want to see your date again, you'll keep dancing.”

Now you're scared, so you dance harder, and you give in to the moment, and you think, “This can't get any worse and eventually these people will get tired, and I'll rescue my date, and we'll leave.” But before that can happen, something worse happens. There's
another
black person at the party. You don't know who he is or where he came from. He could be somebody's boyfriend. He could be the bartender. He could be some brother off the street that your coworkers paid to come in at this very moment.
None of this matters
. What matters is that he has found his way into your dance circle, and he's
challenging
you!

Instinct takes over, and you square off. Pretty soon the two of you are engaged in an epic dance battle. You're literally putting on a show at this point, and it covers the entire history of modern black dance. You jump between Lindy Hop, Cabbage Patch, Running Man, Samba, the Harlem Shuffle, the Robot, Beyoncé's
Single Ladies
dance, the Percolator, the Diddy Bop (which you hate!), the Moonwalk, Some New Thing You Two Just Made Up, and you're actually teaching people how to Dougie! You are determined to defeat this Random Brother and prove that “These are
my
white people!”
*

Eventually, Random Brother stands down. Meanwhile, your white people hoist you up on their shoulders, outdoing each other with praise for your astounding talent, satisfied that they know the Best Black Person Ever. You find your date and head home, exhausted and relieved that the ordeal is over.

But it isn't. Because now they know your secret, and they can never ever let you rest. You are destined to top your dance performance at every company holiday party for as long as you work at this company.

Congratulations, and I'm sorry. You are The Black Employee.

How to Be The Angry Negro

I
'm a
really
nice guy. I like to smile. I have a naturally diplomatic disposition, and I'd generally rather reason with you and use humor than argue or fight. But there are times when my mother's take-no-bullshit attitude emerges, and I invite confrontation and put my anger as a black person on full display. In high school, when I worked as an aide at the
Washington Post
, I would wear provocative T-shirts with messages like
DANGER! EDUCATED BLACK MAN
. I
wanted
people to ask me, “What's so dangerous about an educated black man?” just so I could respond, “Because he'll realize how unjust this country is and want to change it!” at which point the questioner would flee, or so I fantasized. When my school principal openly supported what I considered to be racially driven and unjust decision to cancel the Black Student Union dance, I had a one-on-one meeting with him, lost my cool, stormed out of the room, slammed the door, and screamed, “This school is so racist!” Then I ran some laps to try to chill out. So many of my experiences have been about the transition into the mainstream and how to balance blackness within a larger context, but this isn't always possible. Given how much we've shared together so far, I think you're ready to meet The Angry Negro.

S
ometimes in America being black demands that one get angry. Much of that rage is anchored in history. There are obvious factors at play: slavery, for example. The treatment of black folks as property seems to have had an effect on our position and prospects here. The subsequent state-sponsored or -supported discrimination and terrorism—I'm thinking environmental racism, police brutality, lynchings, separate and unequal schooling, neighborhood redlining, et cetera—have also cast a long shadow over the current black experience in the United States.

One in fifteen black male adults is behind bars (compared to one in a hundred U.S. adults overall);
*
black household wealth averages just one-twentieth that of whites,
*
having fallen precipitously after the housing crisis; black people in Texas have a habit of finding themselves under the wheels of trucks driven by racists; and then there's BET. There is no shortage of issues for which a black person in America can justifiably get mad. The Angry Negro is the personification of that Black Rage.

As The Angry Negro, you are committing yourself to a life of hate. You are agreeing to be always disagreeable. You are shameless. You are unforgiving. You only see the world through race-tinted glasses. You are, basically, an asshole. That's what embodying the collective ills of a people can do to you.

You don't make excuses for offhand, offensive comments.

You don't seek to understand “the other side.” You see everything in terms of our side versus the side that enslaved, ridiculed, wrongfully imprisoned, and impoverished your people. You already know everything you need to know about how the other side thinks. You wear the scars of its philosophy.

You are compelled to say what others won't. They remain quiet, not because they doubt the truth of their perceptions but because they lack the courage to risk being ostracized and being labeled “The Angry Negro.” You have no such hesitation. You relish being so labeled. Rage is your cape. Self-confidence is your mask. Truth is your sword.

If the above sounds appealing to you or just sounds like something you'd like to try out for a while, check out the excerpt below from the
Operating Manual for The Angry Negro Persona
.

Preface your answer to all questions with “as a black man” or “as a black woman,” depending on your gender.

Q: Do you approve of the job President Obama is doing?

A: As a black woman, I resent the assumption you've made that I have an opinion on the matter. What, just because I'm black, I need to have some kind of position on the black president? How did you feel about that last
white
president? I'm tired of being profiled like this. You are violating my civil rights, and I will not stand for it! My people did not build this country just so you could ask me about the black president!

Q: Did you see the news report last night about that apartment fire?

A: As a black man, I understand all too well the struggles of the dispossessed and the conflagration of injustice leading to such a state. This world is a farce.

Q: Would you like paper or plastic?

A: As a black woman, I choose paper. Its brownness reminds me of my people. The tree that died so it might hold these heavy groceries is a metaphor for the sufferance of my people, who, for too long, have carried the burden of America's original sin. Its roots run as deep as the blood of my people beneath this so-called nation. [Liberal usage of “so-called” is highly encouraged.]

Maximize the Discomfort of White People

White people's comfort is not your concern. In fact, when around white people, you take great pleasure in making them feel uncomfortable. This doesn't have to depend on them prompting you with some race-related question. It's actually better if the subject of race is nowhere near the conversation.

For example, when in an elevator with one or more white people, quietly but firmly say something like the following:

“It wasn't that long ago that people like me weren't allowed in this elevator. The good old days, huh?”

 

Don't address your question directly to the white person. It's more uncomfortable if you just let it hang in the air while looking in no particular direction. The age and location of the elevator are not important. You just want these white people to know that you know that their days of openly discriminating against black people are over, not that these particular white people ever did that.

Another tactic you might try is to directly confront white people over how open-minded they are. It is perfectly acceptable to do this for white people you know well or barely at all.

Perhaps White Jim is talking about a new bicycle he just got or his favorite television program. Your job is to throw a racial wrench into the operation with a question like, “Jim, I was just curious. How many black friends do you actually have?” This will have the immediate effect of throwing off Jim's equilibrium and forcing him into a defensive state of mind. He's sure he didn't do anything wrong, but he can't help feeling as if he must prove that point.

If Jim has an answer, you attack: “Three? You actually keep count of all your black friends? Really, Jim?”

If Jim says he has none, you also attack: “So you mean to tell me you haven't found even one black person worthy of your friendship? Man, that's just sad.”

Regardless of what Jim says, you attack. That's the point. Attack White Jim.

Maximize the Discomfort of Black People

Do not expend your rage solely on white people. Think bigger. From your point of view, your black friends and associates and even black strangers cannot be black enough. It's not always their fault, but you do get tired of being the consciousness of the group. They've been so brainwashed by mainstream society, so mis-educated, that you understand it's up to you to set them on a more correct course, especially if they seem to reject your solutions.

Many of the black people around you act like race doesn't define everything in the world. It's your job to remind them that it does!

Let's say one of your black friends is having a problem with her boss. To you, it's obvious that this is an example of The White Man holding a sister back. Your friend may try to explain to you that her boss isn't white and that the problem stems from her poor performance on a previous assignment, but you're not having any excuses like that. In America, a black woman just can't catch a break, and you remind her of this at a very high volume by saying, “In America! A black woman just can't catch a break!”

When communicating with your fellow black people, make sure to sprinkle your speech with a lot of “my brotha!” and “my sistah!” language. This adds credibility to your case and builds a connection with any other black person around you at the time.

So, when you see a black man reading the
New York Times . . .

“My brotha! I see you are filling your mind with The White Man's lies again. The mis-education of the Negro continues!”

The same style can be used in any situation. The point is simply to remind these Negroes that they are black!

“You actually support a football team named the ‘Washington Redskins?' My brotha, how can you be so ignorant?”

“Skiing, my sistah? Are you so obsessed with whiteness that you must frolic in it?”

“So, we're eating Cheetos now, are we, my brotha?”

And so forth . . .

Your job, although it may at times appear to be purely symbolic and over-the-top, has real value. You will confront politicians, police officers, business owners, anyone. You are fearless. You're an angry black superhero for justice. Remember that when people inevitably start to distance themselves from you. Being hated is part of the job.