You ain't black enough,' says the 'black police'

What do you do when the Black Police come knocking? No, not black police -- the Black Police, the self-appointed officers patrolling the streets, airwaves and Internet for Black Code violators. With the goal "to serve and protect," -- Who? -- they make their presence and authority known.

I recently spent time with a friend who wanted to talk about the Black Police issue because she found herself, again, under the watchful eye of these unofficial officials, whose job title involves measuring just how "black" black people are. In case you didn't know that there's a measuring stick for that, there is. It weighs words, body language, friends, clothes, success, etc.,-- all of which, apparently, determine whether you're really black or, to use an expression I heard thrown around in college, "incognegro." (Say it out loud: You'll get it.)

This form of abuse -- Black Police brutality -- is not new. I've talked about it. I've written about. I've battled it. It's been around, at least, since slavery -- House Slaves vs. Field Slaves -- and manifested in accusations -- "Uncle Tom!" -- and now, is heard in "sellout" smears. I love my people, but we are good at sizing up who is not "black enough" or not "really black" at all.

During dinner, my friend expressed the frustration of being under that microscope, examined by those closest to her -- the concern from folks who think when you've moved out of certain neighborhoods or graduated from certain schools or acquired certain jobs, you've forgotten where you come from. Because you don't see racism around every corner, won't defend a black celebrity who is a rapist or, God forbid, choose to vote for principles rather than political party -- now, you lost touch, broke The Code. "They done made you a slave!" they say, and they hate that -- because the only people they want you enslaved to is ... them.

It's annoying. It's insulting. It's wrong. But it's even worse than that. It's counterproductive to our own progress. The Black Police not only arrest adults and pull them into their cage of preconceived ideas and expectations; they birth a mindset that damages children's ability to think big; pokes out the eyes needed to see big; and applies handcuffs that bind the mobility to create big. I remember when two students told me they would never attend the school's Right Choice Party, a celebratory gathering of students who, because of good behavior, received no disciplinary referrals and passed all of their classes that quarter. As a reward, they would get to miss the last class of the day to go to the cafeteria for ice cream.

When I asked the girls why they said they would never have that honor, they responded that "black people couldn't go a whole quarter without getting a referral." Makes one wonder: Did they really believe blacks could not achieve this -- or that they should not? Either way, how sad that at only 12 or 13 years old, they believed appropriate behavior was tied to race -- and that their race was incapable or exempt.

If adults are dealing with the pressure, as my adult friend expressed, imagine the weight on youth, and I know for sure that some feel that getting to class on time, doing their work and being respectful to their teachers is "acting white," just as some believe using standard English is "talking white."

We have done children a disservice by convincing them they owe the Black Police anything, that to be loyal to their race, they must be disloyal to themselves and their potential. It needs to stop. But it's impossible, I suppose, for one to free another of chains he himself still wears.

We would all do well to read -- or reread -- Marianne Williamson's poem, "Our Deepest Fear":

Our deepest fear is not that we are inadequate.

Our deepest fear is that we are powerful beyond measure.

It is our light, not our darkness

That most frightens us.

We ask ourselves

Who am I to be brilliant, gorgeous, talented, fabulous?

Actually, who are you not to be?

You are a child of God.

You're playing small

Does not serve the world.

There's nothing enlightened about shrinking

So that other people won't feel insecure around you.

We are all meant to shine,

As children do.

We were born to make manifest

The glory of God that is within us.

It's not just in some of us;

It's in everyone.

And as we let our own light shine,

We unconsciously give other people permission to do the same.

As we're liberated from our own fear,

Our presence automatically liberates others.

Adrienne Ross is owner of Adrienne Ross Communications and a former Southeast Missourian editorial board member. Contact her at aross@semissourian.com.