:/
Trash thread/ mods pls delete
- Thread starter Lucky Me
- Start date
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- black lives mixed race
:/
You can't even comprehend it huh breh
Your whole perception of how genetics works is out the window
But I'm sure you'll still claim that I'm not black for not fitting into your perfect vision of how black people are supposed to look.
But if I'm not black then neither is Malcom x
not really, your father looks white. you know it too, which is why you wont post his pic. you got clowned int he last thread you posted it in by other posters.you're not black, at best you would be biracial.You can't even comprehend it huh breh
Your whole perception of how genetics works is out the window
But I'm sure you'll still claim that I'm not black for not fitting into your perfect vision of how black people are supposed to look.
But if I'm not black then neither is Malcom x
Lol yes I know my father looks white, hence the reason for me trying in vain to explain to you that genetics aren't exactly black and white. His father was still a black man so that makes him mixed, and my mom is black which makes me black, according to your standards ( atleast 3 black grandparents )
I didn't get clowned in the other thread, in fact, nobody even responded to me posting pics but you.
But your still gonna claim my dad is white and that im at best biracial, even when I prove that to be false, ok breh.
post his pic again real quick
KingFreeman
Barely-Known Member
Maybe to an extent, but that's murky territory
. The only time I see their identifying as black and acting as such comes either when they get raised as the exemplars of the race, or used in media to represent what a 'black' person should be. Both are the result of simple White influence, but the former is one that we (black majority) can control, and isn't an absolute negative for us.Lol your infatuation with my father is crazy. Now your goal is to try to get nikkas to clown on me cause my dad looks white? He's not white, I've shown this, what more do you need?
Just admit that you don't fully understand genetics breh.
Jen The Prude
بسم الله الرحمن الرحيم
Alan Emerald
Pro
by Shannon Luders-Manuel
When I talk about my family culture, I’m mixed. When I talk about race i'm bllack. When Trayvon Martin was shot for wearing a hoodie, I was black. When Eric Garner was choked to death for selling cigarettes on the street, I was black. When Sandra Bland was arrested for failing to turn on her blinker, I was black. When churchgoers were shot for being black, I was black.
I was raised by the white side of my family, in mostly white areas. I had white friends most of my life, not because of any type of preference, but because that’s who was around. I grew up Eastern European folk dancing in the Santa Cruz Mountains with my family. I had plum pudding at Christmas, and my first celebrity crush was Neil Patrick Harris. During both childhood and adulthood, I’ve had others try to define me the way they wanted to, which varied depending on who was doing the defining. My father said mixed isn’t whole. A black woman told me I wasn’t black. A white best friend said she didn’t see me as black. The grandmother of another white friend asked why she was hanging around with a black girl. As I’ve gotten older, the labeling hasn’t stopped, but my self-identity has gotten stronger. Most of the time I see myself as mixed, but when I see black men and women brutalized or killed for breathing while black, I’m black, and proudly, viscerally so.
At the same time, being mixed race during the heightened media coverage of police brutality grants me a unique vantage point, for better or for worse. This isn’t true just on a national level, but on a very personal one as well. The racists who are coming out of the woodwork are not just friends and strangers, but sometimes family. I’ve seen a relative post vehemently about black-on-black and black-on-white crime in the midst of a “misguided obsession with taking down the Confederate flag.” I’ve scrolled through my newsfeed to see a friend of a friend have the Confederate flag displayed proudly as her profile picture. In these moments, it’s as if lines are drawn and there’s only one clear side. There is no feeling that these relatives and strangers aren’t including me in their discrimination. Only a feeling that those making the racist statements, or performing the racist actions, have picked sides for me, and my allegiance is clear in that moment, for those moments.
I feel heavier with each new instance of police brutality or homicide, as if outside forces are pushing me farther into an abyss. It’s an abyss that has always been there, of course, for all of us, but has only become more apparent with increased news coverage. I don’t feel that my light skin does or should afford me any privilege. I don’t think that I should be given a pass because I dress preppy. I don’t think my “good hair” should make me any less of a target. When Eric Garner was pushed to the ground, I saw my father. When Trayvon was shot to death, I saw my brother. When the officer told Sandra Bland he would “light her up,” I saw my cousin.
I can’t deny, though, that I do have some white privilege. I know, for instance, that black men like my “good hair” and light skin. I know in most circumstances I am not seen as a threat against the status quo. I know there are some who see me as white, or as a “good black,” and that they treat me accordingly whether I want them to or not. But when I pause at my front door because a stranger may turn the corner and shoot me for walking down the street while black, my “good hair,” light skin, and preppy attire don’t make me feel safe. Instead, what makes me feel safe is the knowledge that I’m surrounded by other black friends and family, and mixed-race friends, who are just as viscerally upset by recent injustices as I am. What makes me feel safe is seeing pictures of the President of the United States confronted by Confederate flags for daring to be President while black. In those moments, his light skin doesn’t afford him privilege. His presidency doesn’t erase discrimination. We are in the trenches together, making history and taking names.
Shannon Luders-Manuel is a writer and editor living in Los Angeles. She was a featured writer for the 2014 Mixed Remixed Festival for her in-progress memoir about her father. You can follow Shannon on Twitter at @shannon_luders.
What it Means to be Mixed Race During the Fight for Black Lives
need to know the "mixed race people aren't black" crowd's thoughts on this piece.
precciate the dialog even it it did go south real quick. I feel self identity is just that, the way one views themself. How others aggree or not is of little consequence. Being black or white from what ive observed has been more of an issue of culture. Until people experience hatred, diapproval, resentment from the said culture. Then its back to the.drawing board to see "where do i fit In".
Many of us simply want that. A sense of belonging or meaning and unfortunately that search often ends at the complexion of those around me or the shortsided understanding (more like interpretation) of another culture through less than authintic means.
Nevertheless OP. What are your takes on this?
Arguing ones blackness when they have self identified as black And truly embrace the culture reminds me of this...
What is new. Another ugly male coli poster.
my hand is in the way, you have no idea how I look
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This account was for entertainment purposes only.
What is new. Another ugly male coli poster.
Really, what ethnicity are you?
Jen The Prude
بسم الله الرحمن الرحيم
Enough was seen.
And I can certainly tell that you're a hefty fella.
