Today I watched a phenomenal video by Sonya Renee Taylor on Instagram. It’s about colorism and the ladder of bodily hierarchy.
I won’t attempt to re-explain it because that’s not necessary — Sonya did it in a way I never could. My initial instinct is to talk about how I feel about the video, but I don’t think that’s necessary right now either.
What I will say is that I’m rethinking the ways I show up in conversations and whether or not that particular space is in need of my perspective or my pain.
I have the blood of the oppressed and the oppressor running through my veins.
I’m in my late twenties and never knew, in addition to the German side of my family, whiteness abounds in the African American side of my family too. Not until today. Today I found out I am a direct descendent of slave owners.
I’m not sure why it surprised me. My dad is light-skinned, like his mother (who passed away before I was born). He doesn’t know exactly when the roads crossed, but he has distinct memories of gathering with white strangers—a rare occurrence for a…