Journey:
A few weeks ago, I was listening to a discussion on NPR’s Talk of the Nation about Obama’s decision to identify himself as African-American even though he is, technically, multi-racial. Some callers felt it was an affront or that it alienated them, while others felt it was a sign of self-solidarity and the recognition of a rightful cultural inheritance.
At the time, I was unsure where I stood on the issue. Being of primarily European descent myself, I could relate to the brushed-off feeling that some described. On the other hand, though, I recognized that extremely few “blacks” (indeed, extremely few Americans of any color) are descended from only one ethnic group. Americans tend to use skin tone as the primary determinant of race, and Obama fits the bill as far as melanin goes. No matter what he thought of himself growing up, those outside of his closest circles would have treated him as black, and he had to struggle with that impression as regularly as any full-blooded African.
The realities of Americans’ sight-based categorizations led me to consider further some of the sociological phenomena that may have contributed to Obama’s decision to favor the “black” label over the “multiracial” one. Identity negotiation depends as much upon the expectations that others have of an individual as they do on that individual’s own initial self-verification. That is, people in social environments strive to conform to the roles that the others in that group give them. What determines a person’s role may initially come from the perceptions that the individual has about himself prior to the group experience, but far more important will be the interpretations of his actions by others.
Identity is not a static feature; it develops and changes throughout a person’s lifetime, starting from birth. Identity plasticity is advantageous, because it allows us to fill multiple functions in a wide range of situations. Consider the world of jobs – few people these days only have one. Imagine that you start out as a factory worker, but are then promoted to the position of supervisor at a different facility. The technical skills you have may be equally applicable to either job; what changes are your social roles. You’re now expected to delegate tasks, to hold meetings with other supervisors, to hold a different standard of responsibility. Your old bosses are now colleagues. Your old coworkers are now friends-outside-of-work. Even the CEO’s expectations of you are different – she asks you for your opinion, or takes you to lunch, or demands to know why your workers are under-performing.
Identity is subtle and shifting, but certain aspects of it tend to become solidified over time when expectations stay consistent. We feel we’re trustworthy if long-standing acquaintances trust us. We feel we’re talented if lots of people notice our work. The identities we create are, in many cases, the self-fulfilled prophecies of what others allow us to demonstrate and recognize.
Eventually, these persistent characterizations become internalized. They become the fundamental principles by which we define ourselves.
Race is no different. It’s a socially constructed category with no simple physiological basis. So you can call yourself multi-racial all you like, but if people see you as black, you will experience society as a black person.
After contemplating all of these factors (and more), I felt I had a greater empathy for Obama’s choice of racial identity. But this Tuesday, as I watched him speak before the largest audience the National Mall has ever hosted, another thought occurred to me: this whole debate about racial identity relies upon an outmoded set of standards. Trying to figure out the best way to define Obama’s race is like trying to download an MP3 onto a record player: you’d run yourself in circles just looking for the USB port.
Like old technology, our understandings of race, ethnicity, culture, and other potentially divisive categorizations do little to capture what happens in the real world. Cultures change with each generation. Ethnicities have blended together and borrowed from one another for thousands of years. Peoples from different parts of the world have always been intermingling, trading wares and genes. Race doesn’t mean anything definite at all. All of these pieces of our identities are fluid and ethereal.
Obama doesn’t speak much about his race, because he doesn’t need to. He’s seen enough to understand how convoluted the concept is, how patently absurd. At the same time, he incorporates racially charged imagery into his speeches, juxtaposing some of the traditional “white” American narratives with those of other backgrounds. This is no mistake: he’s setting the precedent for a unified human narrative, where we can all feel as if these histories belong to our personal heritage.
Meanwhile, Obama’s prominence and eloquence has thrust racial questions back into the open. For the past few months in media and in peoples’ personal experiences, the meanings and experiences of race (on every side) have become salient topics of conversation.
This is also as it should be. When we can begin to talk about race, we begin to see some of the absurdities and travesties that our old definitions engender. And by seeing these, we can further erode the barriers of prejudice, discrimination, and systemic ignorance that continue to separate groups of humans from appreciating one another for what they really are.
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