Hola Everybody,
First, I want to thank all those who’ve posted birthday
wishes on my Facebook page, it’s very much appreciated.
Just in case you didn’t know, this weekend we celebrate
our heritage with the Puerto Rican Day parade. I believe it is still the
largest outdoor event in the nation… The other day a colleague, in response to
a conversation we were having said, “In the states… ”Apparently, she’s not
aware that Puerto Rico is part of the USA. This is strange (and downright offensive
in a privileged kinda/ sorta way) for a person who’s supposedly an activist/
advocate working in a field that disproportionately affects Puerto Ricans. ::blank stare::
In any case, the following is a snippet of something I
wrote while I was an undergrad and I share it in the hopes that you fuckin’
gringos get it together. ::grin::
* * *
Beyond the One Drop Rule (or: Between Black and White)
-Naaaahhh... You ain't no Porta Reecan.
-I keep telling you: The boy is a Black man
with an accent.
-- Wille Perdomo
(for Piri Thomas), Nigger-Reecan Blues
Growing up, I had a friend we
nicknamed, “Shadow.” Shadow was a Golden Gloves champion, a Puerto Rican whose
dark skin earned him the moniker. He was dark, but not as black as another
childhood friend we used to call “Blue.” Blue was an African American, a cocolo, as Puerto Ricans sometimes refer to
African Americans (and, yes, it was a pejorative).
The thing with Shadow was that,
though he was dark-skinned, he had a sister who was very light-skinned --
light-skinned as in “white” not “Creole,” or “high yellow.” In fact, they
looked as if they came from different families. I have blue eyes and I am
light-skinned and growing up, I was often mistaken for being white. Shadow and
I used to hang out and we would be supportive of each other (as in “watching
each other’s backs”) because we identified as Puerto Ricans.
Blacks and whites would often
get very confused around us Puerto Ricans because we would refuse to identify
as either black or white. I am not white, in the sense that I identify with
whiteness as it is constructed in the U.S. Shadow didn’t identify as black as
it is defined in the U.S. What we were -- what we identified as first -- was Puerto Ricans.
This caused many problems for
Puerto Ricans. At home, we were treated equally regardless of our skin color:
there was no “white Puerto Rican”/ “black Puerto Rican” dichotomy. We were
brothers and sisters, cousins, aunts and uncles. We were familia, and
skin color wasn’t a determining factor for accessing love or whatever benefits
our families could provide.
The same, however, wasn’t true
when we were exposed the social institutions. At school, we were often segregated
from one another. For example, though my darker-skinned cousin at home was just
as smart as I was, he was often placed in less advanced classes than I was. And
though I was never taught to identify as white (and I still don’t), I learned
very quickly that I was given preferential treatment because of my Eurocentric
features. We all learned this early on in our lives. In some cases, it
served to makes us cling more closely together, in other instances it was a
source of conflict, pain and, grief.
We were also pressured by our
peers to identify according to the dominant racial paradigm. The worst insult
you could pay me was to call me white. Not because I had anything against
whites, but because by identifying me solely by the color of my skin, you were
robbing me of my autonomy, my choice to define myself, and my choice to
maintain and honor my cultural heritage. More insulting was the pressure to
stop us from speaking Spanish. I remember getting in deep trouble once when I
responded to one teacher asking, “Can’t you speak English?!!” by saying, “Fuck you, is that English enough for you?”
It was the same for the
darker-skinned Puerto Ricans, they also would come under immense pressure to
identify as black. Therefore, if there was some sort of conflict, and Shadow
chose to stick with me (and I with him) we were ostracized for being “sellouts”
or “nigger lovers.” Truth be told, most of the time, we didn’t really give a
fuck, but it bothered all of us at some deeper level. Or perhaps we were all
experiencing what some sociologists call perceptual dissonance: A tension within our awareness of
the characteristics that constitute one’s self. Whatever the case, it wasn't
until we all read Piri Thomas' semi-biographical account of growing up Puerto
Rican in New York, Down These Mean Streets,
that we found an outlet to discuss and internalize these issues.
I still hear complaints from my
African American brothers and sisters, who become frustrated when Puerto Ricans
and other Caribbean Latin@s insist they are not black. For African Americans,
our steadfastness toward cultural identification amounts to a denial of our
blackness, and to a degree, it is, but I don’t think that sentiment captures
the full story. When Shadow (who would eventually identify as an African
American) used to say he wasn’t black, he wasn’t denying his blackness, he was
attempting to assert his own identity, his culture, his Latinidad, his Puerto
Ricanness. It’s the same with me when I correct people about my assumed
“whiteness.” We were saying we were
Puerto Rican.
To be sure, there is racism in
the Caribbean; to say otherwise is, in my estimation, a racist. However, how
Puerto Ricans and other Latin@s define, talk about, and conceptualize race is
very different from the way it is constructed and mediated in the United
States. I believe Latin@s have something to offer to the profoundly
dysfunctional racial dialog (or lack thereof) in the U.S.
Let me start with a rather
controversial issue. In the 2000 census, the residents of the island of Puerto
Rico (effectively a colony of the USA), claimed itself to be 81% percent
white. This is in stark contrast to Mainland Puerto Ricans in the United
States, where only 46% identified as white (as an aside, when I was last
incarcerated, I identified as black). This finding caused a shitload of
controversy with people from all over the ideological map making accusations
ranging from it being proof of Puerto Ricans' denial of their African heritage,
to countless other assumptions. What also was not lost was the fact that Puerto
Rico was whiter than the U.S., where 75% identified as white. And of course,
part of the reason for this is that some Puerto Ricans feel a need to
dis-identify from American blacks – a marginalized group unjustly burdened with
stereotypes. This is a hard truth, but it isn’t the full truth. I think we need
to contextualize these numbers properly. Culture and context, mi gente, is everything.
First, let’s take note that
there is a racial ambivalence in Puerto Rico that doesn’t exist in America. In
Puerto Rico, racial identification is less important than cultural
identification. This is why I can identify as black, but if you looked at me
from an American perspective, you would find that silly (which goes to show, on
the other hand, that the full breadth and scope of black physical expression is
seriously skewed in this society). One study showed that some dark-skinned
Puerto Ricans will identify as “white” while some light-skinned Puerto Ricans
will identify as “black.” We just don’t think of race in the same way Americans
do and we are, strictly speaking, a demographer’s nightmare. In the U.S., the
opposite is true: racial identification largely, determines cultural
identification. Therefore, as I have demonstrated earlier, when asked the
all-too divisive question, “What are you?” Puerto Ricans of all colors and
ancestry usually answer, “Puerto Rican.” In contrast, most New Yorkers will
likely answer, black or white (or maybe even Jewish or “of Italian descent”). I
am not saying that Puerto Ricans feel no racial identification, but rather that
cultural identification is more important.
Another important factor is that
Puerto Ricans’ perceptions of race are based more on phenotypic and
social definitions than on genotypic knowledge about an individual. Put
simply, physical and social appearance, instead of biological classification,
is used to define race. In the U.S., the legal definition of white meant that
the biological offspring of a mixed race union would be considered black (i.e.,
the “one drop” rule). In that way, the children of a white slave owner and a
black slave would still legally be
considered slaves. This legal definition did not exist in Puerto Rico (and
other Spanish-speaking Caribbean islands). The progeny of slave and master were
considered free.
For Puerto Ricans, a white
appearing offspring of an interracial couple could be considered white. On the
other hand, an obviously dark-skinned person may not be considered as black (as
defined by Americans), especially if there are other mitigating factors, class
being a prime consideration.
Another aspect of racial
classification for Puerto Ricans is that racial categories are based on a
mixture of skin color, class, facial features, and the texture of hair. This is
quite different to the mostly color-based, black or white U.S. racial paradigm.
This makes for a fuller spectrum of racial perspectives for Puerto Ricans. For
us, there are blanco/as (the equivalent of U.S. whites); indio/as
(the equivalent to the U.S. conception of East Indians -- dark-skinned and
straight-haired); moreno/as are dark-skinned with a variety of features
-- black and white; negro/as are black as conceptualized in the U.S.
Interestingly, this latter term is also used as a term of endearment,
equivalent to the English “honey” or “sweetie” and having no racial
connotation. It was not uncommon to hear my parents, both of whom were light-skinned
with blue eyes, affectionately call each other, “negrito/a.” Finally, there is
the term, trigueño/a, I often use, which can be applied to what is
considered brunettes in the U.S. or to negro/as who have high social
status. For me, trigueño/a is a racial catch-all term. It can be applied
to both white-looking and black-looking Puerto Ricans.
I will finish this already
too-long post by emphasizing the importance of the contrast between a
multiracial, multiethnic society versus a homogenous society. While in the
U.S., racial/ ethnic minorities have been segregated, the same doesn’t hold
true for Puerto Rico. In this way, blacks in Puerto Rico were not a
distinguishable ethnic group. This is not to say that blacks are evenly
distributed throughout the social spectrum. Race and class still intersect
in ways that serve to marginalize, but they intersect in ways vastly different
from the way they intersect in the U.S. But in terms of housing, institutional
treatment, political rights, government policy, and cultural identification,
Puerto Ricans of all colors are not different. In addition, Puerto Ricans on
the Island of any skin color do not perceive race as an issue. In stark
contrast to mainland Puerto Ricans, who identified deeply with black power
politics, Island Puerto Ricans, perhaps because they haven’t been confronted
with U.S. racism, do not identify as much.
In a very real sense, Latin@s in
general, and Puerto Ricans in particular, have approximated the largely
unrealized ideal of the Melting Pot. One manifestation of Puerto Ricans’ racial
perspectives is that there isn’t the same taboo on racial intermarriage that
exists in the U.S. Puerto Ricans have intermarried and continue to intermarry
at a higher rate than the U.S. In addition, the emphasis on strong extended
family ties makes the world of most Puerto Rican children one that is inhabited
by people of many different colors and these colors are not associated with a
racial caste system. This intermingled rainbow of colors taken for granted by Puerto
Ricans is foreign to most children in the U.S.
Finally (and most importantly),
the Puerto Rican conceptualization of integration is quite different than how
it is conceptualized on the mainland. For Puerto Ricans, integration is a
multiracial/ cultural concept. For example in the U.S., one-way integration has
been and still is the norm. That is, in the US, integration usually means that
blacks are sent to white schools, not vice versa. Integration, in the US means
that black must integrate into white
society. For example, in US mainstream society a black couple almost never
adopts a white child. The number of white babies available and the limited
economic resources of many blacks acts as a deterrent this action. In fact, in
many adoption agencies this action is discouraged and until relatively recently
was not allowed. In contrast, it is fairly common in Puerto Rico to raise other
people’s children as one’s own. These hijos
de crianzas come in all colors. Therefore, a darker-skinned couple may rear
the lighter, orphaned children of a relative or neighbor and a light-skinned
couple may be rearing their own or another’s dark-skinned child.
In the US, the contributions of
blacks are often whitewashed before they accepted into the mainstream. Blacks
in the US have become increasingly aware of how their cultural contributions
have been stolen, commercialized, or “denigrified.” Puerto Rican popular music
is a synthesis of African, Indian, and Spanish elements and is perceived as
Puerto Rican. Similarly, Puerto Ricans in New York developed a similar fusion
called Salsa, incorporating Afro-Latin@
rhythms, white rock, and black soul and R&B. All Puerto Ricans in New York,
regardless of their skin color, dance to this music in the same way. This is
stark contrast from the situation that historically has existed in the US,
where blacks and whites not only tend to dance differently, but to different
music. In this way, Jazz was appropriated by the white masses as “white” jazz.
Puerto Rican music development in New York and Puerto Rico was unitive. I would
argue that Salsa was borne of a identity movement that also incorporated literature,
film, and a way of life that resonated with Puerto Ricans of all colors.
This is not to say that
prejudice and racism exist in Puerto Rican society, In fact, there are huge
debates regarding identity, racism, preferential policies, or the internalization
of colonialism and racism. However, how we conceptualize, talk about, and
interact about race is utterly different than in the US.
I leave it here for now.
My name is Eddie and I’m in
recovery from civilization…
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