Hashtag: “Whitetopia”

I read Black things. I write Black things. I say Black things, when the opportunity permits and presents itself. So, how do I feel less Black the older I get? How disconnected am I from my Blackness, from the things considered Black? There is a mainstream Blackness that pervades the inner linings of media and television, the likes that the BETs, Essences, Ebonys and New JETs of the world inhabit. Am I not speaking the language enough, I wonder? Have I whitey-fied my spaces too much, too often? Too much Seinfield, not enough LHHNY? The cultural zeitgeist that is the Wendy Williams Show and Empire and Power, the things I have not bound myself to. Mind you, there are layers to all experiences of life, especially that of the Black experience, and the Black experience cannot be relegated to a singular moment, catchphrase, trend, or television episode. Blackness cannot be co-opted, though mass media may have us think different.

What is white culture? Is mainstream media inherently white? Why does the Atlantic and New York Times and New Yorker quantify success as a writer? Why does inclusion in these publications qualify me as a legitimate writer, one whose words are worthy of reading? What makes these words less identifiable, less worthy, when they are not quoted and cited by a white authority? Pinrolling my pants did not make me an adopted citizen of Whitetopia, in spite of what my brown-skinned co-worker…