“pick a side.” (reflections on Trevor Noah's memoir)

Fun fact: Zebras have become something of a symbol in the medical field for rare presentations (when you hear hoofbeats, think horses— not zebras). 

'And at some point, you have to choose. Black or white. Pick a side.' 

 -Trevor Noah, Born a Crime

Reading Trevor Noah's memoir was a revelation for me. Each moment where he discussed the complexity of being mixed felt like someone had been spying on me while I was growing up. I remember when I was about the same age as Noah during the above quote, about 11 years old, when my science teacher told the class to split into two groups based on race. You know, to demonstrate the concept of scientific classification. 

To this day, I believe that it was a totally innocent exercise. By no means do I think that my teacher meant anything nefarious with the exercise. Yet, as white kids stood on one side and black kids on the other, two of us stood in the middle, quite confused. 

"But Miss Johnson," I said awkwardly. "We're mixed, we can't pick a side. We're both." 

Miss Johnson shrugged. "Just pick a side, it doesn't matter." 

But it definitely matters.

Maybe not in 6th grade science class, but in the real world? Yeah, it matters. I realized that same year, when another white teacher clearly singled out non-white students for punishment out of a larger group of unruly students, that there really are two classifications- except I didn't really get to choose. Whether it was over the music I listened to some days ("girl, WHY are you listening to that white people music??"), or the way I code-switched with my siblings ("why are you talking like that?! Hey so-and-so, come listen to them talk to each other! They re talking BLACK!'), someone else was always deciding for me. 

The same way Trevor Noah realizes that authority had decided for him, despite the myriad times where he had to choose where to align himself socially, I realized something similar. Apartheid/post-Apartheid South Africa is still a world of difference from 90s/00s America just below the Mason-Dixon line, but nevertheless I felt such kinship in many of the experiences Noah shared in his book. When I was in high school, I moved to an area that was predominantly white, and much more rural. I won't go into explicit detail in this post, and maybe not in any posts, but it was at this new school in this new town where I realized how a lot of white people would view me and treat me. I was shocked at what some thought were funny jokes, and I was totally confused by other stereotypes. At times, my siblings and I experienced straight up cruel behavior, without even a half-hearted intention to dress it up as humor. When you can't laugh it off and pretend it's a harmless joke, it can get a little scary. When you're young, and no one has talked to you about these things, you tend to wonder "Why is this person being so mean? What did I do to him? What did I say?"

The racial slurs still echo in my memory, the comments seemingly meant in a joking manner, the anxious energy still familiar hearing "The N Word" come from white kids, and the cathartic, genuine laughter from hearing that same word from another black kid. Some like to say "well, why can black people say that word but I can't?!" But if you've never heard the word come at you from someone maliciously, there's no way to understand the catharsis involved in black folks reclaiming that word. The issue of reclamation of racial slurs is evolving and very complex, and there isn't any space in this post for that, not today. But there is a reason it felt so different when my white classmates said the word to me, as opposed to hearing it from the handful of other black students there. And I think that difference helps illustrate that, despite the progress we have made as a society, there's still such a long way to go. 

Just like the implicit mandate for those with mixed heritage to "pick a side", there's the (sometimes-not-so) implicit messaging that you are considered not only different, but lesser-than, because of your heritage and/or skin color. The idea of a post-racial America is just that — an idea. It's the same way all over the world, to varying degrees. "Ethnic" names get resumes thrown out, even when an exactly identical résumé with a "white-sounding" name gets a call back. I mean, come on— that's only one small example. But I don't think it's hopeless. We're moving in the right direction in my opinion, albeit slowly. 

I just think we should be careful not to convince ourselves that we're done with the necessary work too prematurely.