Things I’ve heard as a Young Black Women, Far Too Many Times
By: Jovitta Nkoso
Tags: Rant, Black, Black Women, Struggles In Life

Image: Tattoflex.com

At this point, it’s just ignorance

I live in a quiet state, where if you were to ask the people around if racism existed, they’d simply tell you “no.” But racism does exist. It’s only covert. It’s hidden through expression, calculated movements and speech. I am only seventeen and yet I know that my experience with racism is far from over.

Over the years, I’ve experienced a handful (luckily) of comments that didn’t sit well with me as a black person and especially as a black women. Some make me laugh looking back at it because of the audacity some people had to say these things. I’ve narrowed it down to three things:

“You speak incredibly well for a black person.”

I was in grade 8 when a substitute teacher said that to me. It was one of those comments where in the moment you just know it doesn’t sound right, but you’re not quite sure what’s off about it until you get home and really deep it. I assume the teacher said this because she had taught a couple ‘English as an Additional Language’ classes where a majority of the students where black kids who barely spoke English. And because of this she carried around the assumption that I were like them too.

This wasn’t a one time occurrence. Over the years I’d be told that “I speak white,” or that I “sound like a white girl/person.” And I used to never have a response to the people who would say these things to me. I would say a small “thank you,” or just smile politely because I didn’t want to come across as rude. When I am told that I sound or speak white, what I am understanding is that the way in which I speak exceeds their ingrained perception of the way in which black people speak. And this is often derived through the portrayal or black men and women in the media. The way I speak, to them, exceeds this “expectation” that the media has unconsciously and consciously set— that black people are illiterate, have broken English, or speak with a certain accent or slang to their words. And whilst some of these are true, it cannot be said for all black people. To do such as thing is unfair and belittling.

When I am told by somebody that I “sound white” to me they’re saying that white=intelligence. That being told that you “sound white” is in fact a compliment. But why is that?

My response now to the statement, “You sound like a white person,” is: “How does a white person sound like exactly?” And I sit back and watch them squirm for an answer.

“Can I touch your hair?”

I’ve had this conversation with a couple of my black friends before on how they felt when asked by others if they could touch their hair, and the answer was unanimous: uncomfortable.

Hair is an integral part to being a black women (and black person in general). It is undoubtedly apart of our identity. As black women, having the ability to change our hairstyles as often as we’d like, in any color that we’d please, is indeed a superpower. But this feeling and expressive joy that I have about my hair is only recent.

I cannot tell you the nerves I would feel when I was in primary school and I was walking to school with a new hairstyle. My mind would think: “Would they like it?” “Are they going to laugh?” “Will they recognize me?” It felt like a burden. I hated that I couldn’t just have the same hairstyles all year like everybody else. And the worst part of it was when people would just come up and feel my head.

You know when you’re walking down the street or whatever, and you see a cute dog with it’s owner and you ask the owner, “Can I pet your dog?” And depending on the owner they’ll say yes or no? It was like that for me, except people didn’t give me time to say yes or no and just felt my head.

It’s an almost dehumanizing experience. I understand that some people don’t mind it at all, and in fact like it. But for me it felt like I was a petting zoo or something. People would just straight up pat my hair and feel around. And I was too afraid to say no because I didn’t want to seem mean.

Okay you know what I get it. I get the fascination with black hair and I understand the inquisitive questions, but there is nothing you could ask me that google couldn’t tell you. If you’re really that inquisitive on my hair, and why it is as it is, go on Youtube.

And lastly, “You’re pretty for black girl”

This is the one that makes me laugh when I hear it. I just, it completely baffles me that some people say this and don’t think for a second that it doesn’t sound stupid as hell. I want to clarify to anybody reading this, that this is not a compliment. Let me dissect the comment for a second.

If I had just been told that I was pretty, I wouldn’t have minded it (I mean, whose going to get angry at that). It’s the “for a black girl” part of the comment that doesn’t sit right with me. Never in my life have I said to a guy that he was “cute for (insert his race).” Never. It has always been “you’re cute,” and that’s it and that’s all.

The inclusion of somebodies race in a “compliment” heavily takes away from the “compliment.”

When I am being told that I’m “pretty for a black girl,” what I’m hearing and understanding is that the person saying it doesn’t find black girls attractive, first of all; they are not the type of girls he goes for. But here he is, coming across a black girl that he seems to find some attraction to, so his smart self wants to point it out. What I hear through that supposed “compliment” is that I happen to be one of the few black girls that he didn’t happen to find ugly. Thank you!

These are a few things that I’m sick and tired of hearing and there are far more, but I’m trying to limit how much I write because once the ball starts rolling in my head, there’s no stopping it.

— nkoso