A lesson in black beauty

Every time I meet an African-American, Caribbean or African woman new to Berlin, I hear the same comment. It begins like a mere observation, a cultural difference, but as she continues talking, a nerve is hit, a personal connection is felt and frustration finally settles in. It is familiar to me because it was a reaction I had when I first moved to Berlin.

"What is with these little mixed girls’ hair? Why do they walk around like their hair hasn’t been combed in months? Can’t their mothers go on the Internet, ask a black friend or go to one of the „ Afro Shops“ that are all over the city? What is their excuse for letting their daughters walk around like that? Even Brad Pitt went on You Tube to figure out how to comb Zahara's hair!"

If I had an Euro for every black woman I've met who has considered teaching a course to white German mothers on how to to take care of their black daughters' hair, I could afford an extra trip home every year.

I simply don't have it in me to say, "Um, have you tried putting a leave-in conditioner in your child's hair? Or, "You realize you still have to comb curly hair, right? It wouldn't be krause, if you actually combed it and put some oil in it. . ." That feels too intrusive but on the other hand, a part of me feels bad for the child. The child's hair is seen as "troublesome" and "difficult" but only because the mother can't relate to the difference in hair maintenance. (I did actually have a random mother or two ask for my help.)

The other observation I've made here is the Ashy Skin Syndrome. For the non-black readers of my blog, ashiness occurs when brown/black skin is not well moisturized. White people can walk around with dry skin and it's not as obvious. When black skin gets dry and there is a white film over it, it is widely seen (amongst black people) as a source of shame. If I had ever gotten caught on the block as a child with white knees, I could expect to be teased for at least five years by other black kids. As far as I know, the ashy stigma is one prevalent all over North America, South America, the Caribbean and Africa. Yet here I see too many ashy brown children walking around and I admit that it makes me cringe.

My five year-old son reported to me that his black friend at school (who has white German adoptive parents) is "ashy all over!" Once or twice my husband forgot to oil our sons' skin after a shower. When my husband saw the next day what the result was, he was shocked and puzzled. Then he remembered that he'd forgotten the necessary ritual.

This may not seem like a big deal to those with fair skin but when one sees how often we of the darker hues come under attack (we're ugly, we smell, we have too much testosterone), these seemingly small points matter, to us.

Here is where it gets tricky. Are these stigmas only stigmas because black people perpetuate them? When I see a German mixed race child with dry, uncombed hair and ashy skin, she doesn't seem to be bothered by it because it doesn't seem to bother her white German mother. In fact, I have learned time and time again that many Afro-Germans (not my term) identify more as being German than as black (not a bad thing, per se but a difference). This is obviously more pronounced if they grew up without a black family member.

Yet growing up black, always having a bottle of lotion in my bag was a cultural difference between me and my white friends. None of my white friends knew what "ashy" meant and they didn't need to, we were different and that was OK. But is not noticing that you're different from your white friends always good, whether you share a nationality or not?

Photo: flickr

Racist Theory

Satoshi Kanazawa doesn't find black women attractive. He thinks they're too fat and have too much testosterone. In fact, he's so convinced of this, he decided to do some scientific research to support this claim, because, after all, one can scientifically prove that black women are ugly.

Kanazawa isn't just a regular guy entitled to his opinion, he's an evolutionary psychologist at London School of Economics and, unlike other racists, he's got membership to the inner circle. Kanazawa recently published an article on Psychology Today's blog explaining his theory of why black women are less attractive than women of other races. He cites a large amount of testosterone in African women and that black women are much heavier than non black women.

Kanazawa is entitled to have his opinions. There were plenty of commenters who agreed with him. . . another story. But to try and use figures (comparing mass body indexes, levels of testosterone) to support his personal idea of beauty, as an example of academic research, is something else entirely. It's an embarrassment to Psychology Today and to London School of Economics for even entertaining Kanazawa's theories as serious.

Black women being perceived as "unattractive" is nothing new. It took decades before magazines began showing beautiful black women on their covers or began using cute black little girls in advertisements. While it is now common to see images of black women, commercial beauty is still predominately the face of a white woman. (Not to mention that black models are often photo shopped to look lighter and their hair is usually straightened)

But who cares about Vogue? Who cares if the Pampers Baby is almost always white?

I do care, however, about what academics say. They have a tremendous amount of power and influence. Even if they are criticized (as Kanazawa has been) their theories resonate much longer than the image of a pretty black woman on the cover of Elle.

The White Man

I have presented Haiti to all of my children's pre-school classes. I usually bring a book, show pictures, fry sweet plantain bananas ( I let them press them flat) and, of course, I always bring along a flag. When the children pass around the miniature souvenir flag I got from the airport in Port-au-Prince, they all ask why there are canons on it. This is pre-school so I leave it at, "they had to fight for their freedom". They usually accept this answer and ask for more plantains.

Exactly one year later, my first grade son asked me yesterday, "What did you mean they were fighting for their freedom?" He had never forgotten this, rather he'd stored it in his mind until he could deconstruct it. "Who were they fighting?"

How does one approach the topic of slavery and colonialism with a seven year-old? As usual, I was not prepared to have this conversation so soon. As delicately as I could, I tried to explain that Haitians, who were Africans first, were brought there, forced to work for no money and were not free to go, they were slaves.

The sense of justice in small children is very astute, even if it is overly simplified. Slavery was not only wrong, my son decided but cruel (wait until he gets all of the details!)

"So the French are also Europeans, right?" he asks to make sure.

"Yes," I say.

"So they're like the white men who went to America and killed Crazy Horse's and Pocohantas' people?" (this term, white man, my son learned from a children's book about Crazy Horse).

"Um, well, yes- er,"

"Why did the white man want to steal everyone's land, kill them for it and make Africans slaves?"

Gulp. "In Haiti, the French made money from sugar plantations and the slaves worked on them."

"For nothing." He says softly.

When I asked my parents these questions it always resulted in a speech about why it was so important for me, as a black woman, to get an education and not let anyone enslave my mind and about black people having to be better at everything to gain respect (see Birthers) . . . and a long list of warnings many black children grow up hearing. My situation is decidedly more complicated because while I want my sons to know historical truths, they are half of these white men. It is important, from my perspective, to not be automatically divisive.

"It was a long time ago and, well, you'll learn more about the history when you get older. It's very complicated and many powerful people, you'll discover, took advantage of the weaker ones. But it's true, the white man did do " a lot of mean things," as you say. But a lot has changed, even white people wanted that."

His brow is crinkled, he is thinking up storms, I can tell. I can only imagine what he'll ask next?








Flag of Haiti image courtesy of 4 International Flags

An Eye for an Eye

I've needed some time to process what I think about President Obama's announcement that US Navy Seals, under his order, killed Osama Bin Laden. I felt yanked into a different reality because Osama Bin Laden had been relegated to a myth in my mind.

I'd come to believe in him as much as I did in unicorns or Iraqi weapons of mass destruction. Al Qaeda-linked terrorist attacks all over the globe are clearly very real, but I began to think of them as incidental to Bin Laden's existence. Just as I believe that Al Qaeda will barely miss a step even with Bin Laden now dead.

I'm a New Yorker. I had friends and family in the World Trade Center on 9/11. The Manhattan skyline still seems incomplete when I go home. For some reason, the warmth and cheerful sunniness of that day still haunt me; no one thinks something terrible is going to happen on a beautiful day. We were all robbed of some degree of innocence and apart from intellectually considering the human death toll and security threats, it is the smaller, seemingly insignificant aspects, like that clear warm day, that return to me in regular daydreams.

What revisits everyone is the harsh symbolism in Al Qaeda's attack on 9/11. This is what Al Qaeda intended, long after they knew the rubble would be taken away and the American bodies buried. This powerful symbolic victory over the West created widespread fear and paranoia and turned American daydreamers into anxious subjects, waiting for a chance at revenge. Yesterday, the USA was given that. Not a promise of more security. Not a guarantee that wars in the Middle East would end. And certainly no indication that another 9/11 was impossible now that Bin Laden is dead.

The only concrete news was that Al Qaeda's greatest symbol or at least what we in the West have come to symbolize with Al Qaeda, is gone.

Then came cheering, grinning and rejoicing in the name of a dead man.

I remembered my sixth grade current events teacher when we learned about the Israeli/Palestinian conflict. An eye for an eye makes everyone blind.

When will it end? Will Al Qaeda avenge Bin Laden's death? Al Qaeda's Number Two is certainly already in place. Should the world chase after him now, too? Al Qaeda has never made concrete demands. Is it even possible to think it will ever be over?

To be honest, when I heard the news, I wasn't sure whether I should exhale or hold my breath.