Weird Black Kids, This Black History Month Is For You
I recently watched someone on TikTok explain racism no longer exists because American slavery, the racially motivated practice of forced labor and limited liberty, doesn’t.
Maybe I should limit my TikTok usage during Black History Month.
I probably won’t, though. And while this is partly due to my doom scrolling obsession, it’s more largely due to the thoughtful conversation this post sparked — one about the current state of racism in the U.S. and the role Black people are expected to play in it.
Between the systemic racism that strategically disempowers Black people across the realms of housing, criminal justice, health and several others, and the microaggressions that occur on a seemingly daily basis, racism doesn’t exist identically to how it did in the 18th century. It’s just taken on a new font.
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No, I’m not talking about a Comic Sans MS or a Times New Roman. I’m referring to racism’s adoption of subtlety: a tool that perpetrators now use to police Black people on every aspect of their identities.
Things like hobbies, whether as wholesome as baking cookies or as extreme as skydiving; music, whether a bossa nova track by João Gilberto or a heavy metal staple by Metallica; and clothing, whether a vintage Cavalli heel or a pair of ripped jeans, aren’t able to be consumed by Black people in the ways that many others can.
This observation is more clearly defined as pigeonholing, which occurs when people are assigned to especially restrictive categories. Pigeonholing often works in tandem with racism, subjecting Black people to backlash for simply enjoying things they like.
When White people listen to GloRilla, they’re fun-loving and entertaining. When Black people listen to GloRilla, they’re tasteless and tacky.
When White people rock climb, they’re adventurous. When Black people rock climb, they’re trying to emulate Whiteness.
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The twofold reasons why this restriction of Black expression is threatening are certain. For one, it limits the level of authenticity Black people are comfortable sharing with others. Two, it induces identity crises in Black folks — all too common experiences for those whose existences are constantly under a microscope.
It’s a good thing I don’t care much about laboratory instruments.
If you relate to my metaphoric hatred for microscopes at all, there’s a good chance you’ve identified with the weird Black kid archetype at some point in your life. Whether because your interests don’t align with what’s societally expected of you, or because your personality is too colorful for the average eye, consider your placement into this category an (albeit ironic) response to pigeonholing.
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See, from a young age, Black people are often conditioned to believe that their interests, talents and passions have to fit a rigid, predetermined mold. If you’ve ever found yourself grappling with your identity as a result, consider this line:
“Whatever bring you that immense joy, do that, that’s your luxury.”
Tyler, the Creator said this on “Call Me If You Get Lost.” Almost four years after the album’s release, this point still stands.
I’m really grateful this lyric, alongside the support of my wonderful family and friends, has guided my decisions thus far. It’s taught me that Black luxury isn’t about successfully conforming to a stereotype. Or forcefully rejecting a stereotype, even. It’s about something much cooler and awesome-r: being yourself.
This Black History Month, recognize that embracing your Black identity is about simply giving yourself the space to exist — however that looks for you.
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The members of N.E.R.D, one of my favorite bands of all time, are perhaps some of the best advocates of the weird Black kid community. Not because of their commercial success, but because of their approach to embracing unconventional identities. On “Breakout,” they gave us a line that’s especially relevant this month:
“All you can be is just you.”
Whether you’re currently escaping the confines of Black pigeonholing or you’ve been comfortable in your identity since birth, take some time to reflect on the importance of authenticity — this Black History Month and beyond.
You owe it to yourself!
Strike Out!
Writer: Halima Attah
Editor: Olivia Evans
Self-dubbed “Gainesville’s favorite insufferable,” Halima Attah is a copy editor for Strike Magazine Gainesville. When not writing, she may be found scrolling endlessly through Depop, leveling up in the NYT Spelling Bee or just running her mouth! To obsess over her perfectly curated playlists, follow her on Spotify @halimaa. For all other inquiries, reach her on Instagram @halimaattahh.
