In The Middle

Perceptions of Bi-Racial Identity as it Relates to “Blackness,” “Whiteness,” and “Otherness”

“Who am I? The answer depends in large part on who the world around me says I am.” Beverly Tatum, Ph.D.

Introduction

People have many ways in which they identify with, or don’t identify with, one another through groups or categories. These classifications determine the type of group an individual associates with, group acceptance, group status, and ultimately how a person fits into the group dynamic or does not fit in. Through these categories people are commonly defined as “other” on the basis of race or ethnicity, gender, religion, sexual orientation, socioeconomic status, age, and physical or mental ability. Each of these categories has a form of oppression associated with it.[1]

These ideas of not fitting in, being on the fringes, being an outsider, or an imposter all blur the boundaries of identity classification because of their marginal status. Specifically, my paintings target the dynamics of not fitting in as it relates to race and mixed race experiences. In The Middle starts to tackle the confusion, choices, limbo, indecision, and emotions that come with being a person of color with a mixed race background. The series of paintings is based on a loose narrative based on my personal experiences as a bi-racial person. I am searching for commonality in the experiences of black/white mixed race people. There are initial commonalities that are found inherently in the American legal system and in American social history.

One-Drop Rule

The one-drop of blood rule in America has polarized blacks and whites with no middle ground for those who encompass both identities. The one-drop of blood rule states that if you have one drop of black blood you are black. “Not only does the one-drop rule apply to no other group than American blacks, but apparently the rule is unique in that it is found only in the United States and not in any other nation in the world.”[2] The one-drop of blood rule was created to protect slavery and bolster Jim Crow segregation. However, there is a strong attitude in the black community against passing as white, and the infrequency of people permanently passing shows how strongly self-perpetuating the one-drop rule is.[3] The one-drop rule did not become uniformly accepted until during the 1920’s.[4] The rule was challenged as late as 1983 and upheld by the Supreme Court in the case of Jane Doe v. State of Louisiana.[5]

Third Group

Mixed race blacks, or mulattoes, have a distinct history that weaves in and out of African-American History and African-American experiences. The one-drop rule appeared early and eventually became the dominant rule, but for a long time it had a vigorous competitor, a rule that defined mulattoes not as blacks but as a racially mixed group between blacks and whites.[6] Mixing of the races occurred early in the colonial period wherever there were slaves and free blacks. There was strong public condemnation but it failed to prevent widespread illicit contacts and intermarriage. The first mulattoes born in the United States were from the “working class.” They where mostly free, especially if the mothers were white.[7]

South Carolina and Louisiana both had large mulatto populations. Mulatto clans emerged to become the elites of the freed person communities. These elites avoided identification with both blacks and whites. They developed and preserved the status of an in-between third group. The free mulattoes enjoyed more privileges than unmixed blacks, but fewer than whites. Whites looked to their mulatto kin for help in controlling the large numbers of black slaves. The mulattoes formed a buffer between white and black interactions. [8]These ties began to erode from forces leading up to the Civil War.

Southern white hostility increased toward free mulattoes after 1850 because of growing fear of slave insurrection and the abolition of slavery. After the war, during reconstruction, job competition with mulattoes was especially feared because of their experience in the skilled crafts. These postwar developments hastened the alliance between mulattoes and unmixed blacks that began in the 1850s. Mulatto elite leaders began to speak for blacks as a whole.[9]

The experience for mixed race women was unique during slavery. Keeping mulatto concubines became a luxury of many white men in Southern cities. Prospective concubines as well as prostitutes were sold as “fancy girls” in the internal slave markets. Elaborate balls were set up for meeting and courting free mulatto mistresses. These light skinned mulatto women endured the brunt of white male dominance.[10]

Personal History

In The Middle is closely related to my experiences growing up as a person from a bi-racial background. My biological father, Michael, is a person of color and my biological mother, Peggy, is Caucasian. I didn’t know my father. My mother and my maternal grandmother raised me. Peggy married Joe Dixon when I was approximately two years old. Joe, who I consider my father, is Caucasian. Peggy and Joe divorced when I was six years old. I found out about Michael when I was seven. My sister Becky and I were eating popsicles with my two older cousins Debbie and David. Debbie and David both had purple popsicles and Becky and I had red popsicles. I taunted my cousins telling them they were “black” and we were “Indians” because of the color of our popsicles. Debbie, being the oldest of us all and privy to adult information, told me quite calmly that I was “black.” I protested but she continued on this path until I went crying to my mother. Peggy validated the story. After this happened, I was told about my biological father Michael. I was never the same little boy again. I felt different from everyone in my family.

I participated in standardized testing that was given every year while I was in elementary school. On these tests, each student was required to fill in their race: “white,” “black,” “Asian,” or “Hispanic.” Every year, I would fill in the “white” bubble because I was embarrassed by my black identity. There was never a choice for “both,” “and,” or “none of the above.” I was stuck having to choose, and I chose white. Along with being uncomfortable with my black background, I hated my hair also. It was kinky afro hair. Having a light complexion, and lacking black features, my hair was the most ethnic part of my being. I kept my hair short as soon as I had control of what I wanted to do with it. Eventually, I shaved my head bald. My issue with identity continued throughout my adolescence and into my high school years.

Towards the end of high school, I was able to acknowledge my black identity for the first time. This was due to the predominantly white high school I attended. I associated with the handful of black and minority students in the school. I was generally accepted as a person of color. I say generally because not everyone knew I was half black. Despite associating myself with other black students, I felt like I had no identity. I started experiencing blatant racism, mostly for dating white girls. These instances became glaring examples of why I was not white. And then, I didn’t feel like I was black enough around my black peers. This was mostly a result of cultural differences. I grew up in an all white family structure, and I didn’t feel like I fit in or related culturally.

When I went away to college, I started to identify as black. I began to learn about black history and culture, all the things I was denied in my public and private education before college. Black history gave me a way into black culture and politics that fueled my black identity. Because I grew up in a white family structure, I had experienced my white side. The black side was the element I was missing. Identifying as black made me feel complete. It was an element in my life that I had been denied because of not knowing my black father or family. I grew my hair out, into an afro and, eventually, dread locks to accentuate my ethnicity. My hair became a symbol of the conflict I was having with my identity.

While still in college, the struggles of my identity crisis became most apparent. I was self-conscious about my newly proclaimed self-awareness. I played the race card, became a victim, and let race dominate my thoughts, patterns, and actions. The awkwardness I felt about my identity became more agitated when people questioning my identity. “Oh, you’re black!!?” “What are you?” “Hola, Como esta ustedes?” “I would have never thought you were black.” What the fuck am I then! These comments came mostly from white people. Sometimes I would get it from Mexicans thinking I was Puerto Rican. I have even had a guy from the Caribbean start talking to me in slang, thinking I was an islander. I felt most accepted in the black community, but I could never quite get over not feeling black enough. My skin was too white, I didn’t dress the right way, I didn’t dance the right way, and I didn’t walk or talk the right way. I felt like a white boy, an imposter. Physically, whites challenged me, and psychologically, I was challenged by blacks. Whites tell me I don’t fit into their community and I feel like I don’t fit into the black community. This is the space, and place, that the exhibition In The Middle engages with visually.

Content

The content of this work is concerned with perceptions of bi-racial identity as it relates to “whiteness”, “blackness”, and “otherness”. These identities are fluid and racialized. They are all subject to, and defined by, a dominant “white” culture. “Dominant groups, by definition, set the parameters within which the subordinates operate.”[11] The symbols and methods that I use to qualify my experiences are blackface, whiteface, stereotypes, bi-racial subjects, and white subjects.

Blackface

Blackface is the makeup used by a performer in order to imitate a black person.[12] This derogatory imagery was used to perpetuate racist views, stereotypes, and continues today. The times I have experienced racism were the times I have felt the most black. I have been the victim of, and terrorized by, prevailing attitudes about race and race mixing. I also use blackface to literally make myself black. By becoming the stereotype, I own the imagery. I use the imagery as a vehicle for personal reflection and dialogue. This type of mask shows up in five of the pieces: Transformation, Misinformation; Hunger Pains; White, Black and Confused; Your Blackness is in Your Hair; and De-Blackification. These painting tells a loose linear narrative, which shows me putting on the blackface to become “black;” eating watermelon, which brings in stereotype; and then loosing my “blackness” through the cutting of my hair.

In the self-portrait Transformation, Misinformation, I am putting on the mask, or blackface. I am externalizing how I feel, racialized, objectified, and “other.” Not only am I doing this to myself but there is another figure in whiteface putting the makeup on me as well. “Systems of domination, imperialism, colonialism, and racism actively coerce black folks to internalize negative perceptions of blackness, to be self-hating. Many of us succumb to this.”[13] The blackface makes outward an inner feeling, hides or alters my identity, and reflects or confronts the viewer with a popular stereotype.

In Hunger Pains, another self-portrait, I am completely in blackface and eating watermelon. I am using the popular American stereotype that blacks love watermelon to confront the audience. Is this uncomfortable to look at? Is it funny? How do you see yourself in this imagery? This is how I feel as the container of “otherness”… marginalized and racialized. Hunger pains happen when you have not eaten; so, metaphorically the pain is an emotional one. I also want to create tension between the food I am eating, my mask, and stereotype.

White, Black, and Confused has what I believe to be three states that I have gone through as a bi-racial person. The figure in whiteface represents whiteness, status quo, the majority, and fitting in. The figure in blackface represents blackness, American racism, self-hate, and marginalization. The last figure is half and half which represents confusion, otherness, limbo, either/or, both, and undecided. This is the space that I have personally been in most of my life. This is the space where I am “white” around my “black” friends, and I am “black” around my “white” friends. I encompass “both,” “and,” “either,” “or” racially.

In the self-portrait, Your Blackness is in Your Hair, I tackle my own personal saga with hating my hair. I am cutting my hair, which I have made the symbol of my “blackness.” Despite cutting my hair, I am wearing blackface so I will still be perceived as black. My hair is being cut by a figure in whiteface. I am not doing this to myself, but rather having this done to me. I take on the role of victim.

The last piece, also a self-portrait, is De-Blackification, which shows me in blackface with my dreadlocks cut. It is the end of the “blackness” narrative, and the figure gazes out at the audience. The outward becomes inward and self-contemplative… vulnerable.

Minstrelsy

Blackface has a long tradition in America, via minstrel shows, and these minstrel shows were a popular comic variety show presenting jokes, songs, dances, and skits, usually by white actors in blackface.[14] While minstrel shows helped perpetuate stereotypes and racism within the American system from whites, minstrelsy started as something positive and self-identifying for both freemen and slaves. Blacks dancing in the streets of New York in the early 1800’s were the starting foundations of minstrelsy. They would come from surrounding areas to a place called Catherine’s Market and dance for eels. This street dancing became popular and allowed the people involved to start forming identities for themselves and others building a community through identity. “These young black slaves and freemen came across the waters from Jersey and Long Island, as well as down from the farms along the northern cliffs of Manhattan itself, were dancing out their identity, and a lot more. Increasingly, they danced out the identities of their publics, who paid them for their gestures.”[15]

This particular district of New York was more accommodating and lenient to racial integration because of the need to do business. And these dancers had found acceptance across racial barriers. “In Catherine Market an attraction across difference was daily played out. At least some of the whites of Catherine Market watched those dancers as their champions, as people marking out differences for all of them.”[16] As the dancing became a popular form of street entertainment, there were soon white imitators who co-opted the moves for themselves. “Fascinated whites and blacks congregated to pay for that style and copy it. These marks of grace and difference they appreciated and wanted to absorb.”[17] The dancing was culturally appropriated and taken to the theatre were whites would make money off of imitating this phenomenon.

The local elite’s racism and need to control race mixing led to a crack down for portraying this popular street dancing in a positive manner. This forced the theatres to change their narrative dramas to more of a variety show to keep the political pressure at bay. This style was more difficult to pin down and the work would go from championing “blackness” to blazoning Confederate values.[18] “The depression of the late 1830’s crippled the American stage, opening up possibilities – by the early 1840’s – for ever more vulgar acts. These acts were targeting precisely those people with the least capacity to pay for their seats. The poor audience was spending their money to discover their identity on the stage. Blackface was the first Atlantic mass culture.”[19] This was the start of minstrel shows becoming a vehicle for stereotypes, racism, and ultimately oppression.

Whiteface

I use the whiteface makeup as a way to homogenize the figures. They literally become the color “white.” It is a mask. The mask of the oppressor, yet, it is also familiar. It connects me to my family household, where my mother is white, my sister is white, my aunts and uncles are white, and my childhood experiences are predominantly white. This type of mask shows up in five painting: Passing; Chicken Eaters; Whigga What?; White Girls; and White, Black, and Confused. Each of these paintings is a loose linear narrative, which shows Erin and Anthony, the bi-racial subjects in the painting, putting on the whiteface to pass for “white.” They are eating chicken, which brings in another popular American stereotype that blacks love chicken. This contrasts with their white makeup. The narrative ends with Erin having her arms around two “white” girls smiling.

In Passing, the whiteface is the catalyst for the act of passing as a “white” person. “The concept of passing uses the imagery of camouflage, of concealing the true identity or group membership and gaining false access. Concealment of “true” is considered synonymous with compromised integrity and impostership.”[20]

In Chicken Eaters, the contrasts and delusions become greater because there are two mixed race “blacks” passing for “white” and eating chicken. Now the viewer has to decide whether or not to participate in the stereotype that all blacks love chicken. Does the white face diffuse this stereotype to make it something else entirely?

In Whigga What?, I have taken a slang word for white nigger and applied it to the imagery of Anthony painted in whiteface. "The term wigger or whigger is used to describe a Caucasian who emulates urban-African American culture. The word wigger is usually offensive. It is a new word formed by joining two others and combining their meanings."[21] I was drawn to this word because of its duality. It is usually applied to a white person, but I am applying it to a mixed race person posing as white. I want to complicate racial identity with both language and imagery.

White Girls is the final painting in this narrative of “whiteness” and has Erin embracing her passing. She has embodied the mask and assumed a new identity, “white.” Erin is fitting in. I think of the whiteface as the easy way out, the status quo, becoming invisible, and becoming literally “white.” Then the question comes, “Am I white enough for you?” And the answer is always “no,” still this fantasy pervades the minds of many people of color:

The desire for lighter skin is nearly universal. Throughout Central and South America, Asia, and even Africa, society is prejudiced against those with dark skin, especially young dark women. Countless Black girls in the United States share the fantasy of being White. How could it be otherwise in a society whose ideal beauty – blond, pale skinned, with blue or green eyes – embodies everything the average Black female lacks?[22]

This example becomes more complicated when it comes to a light skinned black or mixed race blacks. If I use myself, because I identify as “black,” I would rather have darker skin. It is this obsession with color that manifests itself within an individual and impedes the development of a positive self-image.

The Other

“The absence of recognition is a strategy that facilitates making a group the Other.” - Bell Hooks

The importance of “otherness” in these pieces is that it is an alternative to the white/black dichotomy. “It is common to hear someone say, ‘One parent is black and one is white, so the child is half and half.’ This describes the child’s marginal social group status.”[23] This plays out with both the figures that are not wearing masks, and the figure with his face half white and half black. This half and half figure shows up in That Nigga’s All Mixed Up; White, Black, and Confused; and Transformation, Misinformation. The paintings with figures wearing no makeup are Erin is Not Black or White, She is Just Erin; Is Your Hair Real?; The Color of My Skin; and Black, Mulatto, Quadroon, Octoroon, White. These narratives provide alternatives to a racialized self. They are an alternative to the black/white paradigm that is an integral part of In The Middle.

That Nigga’s All Mixed Up is creating a space of having a choice, “black,” “white,” “other,” or “nothing.” This is a space that is often transversed by mixed race people. In my case, I have taken on all four of these identities or racial choices.

With Erin is Not Black or White, She is Just Erin, I am again using the paradigm of no racial choice, or all choices, that many bi-racial people subscribe to like Tiger Woods for example. He identifies as mixed race and is comfortable with all his choices. Good for you Tiger! But in America, Tiger is black because of the one-drop rule.

The Color of My Skin is another piece that is self-reflective and has the figure looking at his hand. Contemplating his color, choice, race, and himself.

Black, Mulatto, Quadroon, Octoroon, White is a black and white painting that plays with the idea of race. There are five figures that are all the same color (shades of gray); however, there are five different racial categories. In this painting, I want to acknowledge the fact that race is a construct and has no scientific basis. The idea of race grew out of European contact with other peoples that did not look like them. From this they began to devise systems of classification based on skin color. Europeans quickly decided that peoples of color were not as “civilized” as they were and therefore inferior.[24] However, I also want to acknowledge that despite this fact race plays a significant part in each of our daily lives. It is an inherent part of the systems we partake in throughout our lives, work, school, government, etc.

Subjects

I have used almost all bi-racial people as the subjects of my paintings including myself. I did this to connect with a larger mixed race experience and to find the connections between my experiences and other’s experiences growing up bi-racial. The narrative as it transpires through “blackness” ends with a lone figure, me. This relates to my inner struggles with my own black identity being that I feel like I don’t fit in because of internal insecurities. The narrative as it transpires through “whiteness” ends with two white people and Erin. This relates to me not feeling like I fit in because of outward physical denial from whites via racism.

The four bi-racial people I used as my subjects for In The Middle were Erin, Robert, Anthony, and myself. Erin has a white mother and black father. They are still together which is an important factor in how she identifies. She doesn’t know how to identify. She does not consider herself black or white. Many bi-racial people that I have met with both parents tend to be comfortable with their mixed race backgrounds.

Robert is the figure with both the white and blackface on each half of his face. He was raised in Kenya. His father is black and his mother is white. In Africa he was treated as a white person in the Kenya countryside because of his light skin and in the cities he was identified as mixed race or other. When he came to America he was seen as a black man. His identity shifted with each environment whether it shifted for him or not. In the process of putting the images together for In The Middle, I had intended for Robert to be in blackface. Upon explaining what blackface was historically, he proceeded to put on both the white and black face paint. He had his own interpretation of what blackface meant to him.

Anthony is both black and Chinese. His parents are not together and he identifies as black. He has issues with his hair because it is straight Asian hair, and he keeps his head shaved and bald. Despite our different backgrounds, each of my participants were interested in volunteering their time and energy to what I was doing. We shared stories and had many shared feelings, emotions, and life experiences that helped make this project possible.

Intent

The intent for In The Middle starts with the notion that people of color from a mixed race background have shared common experiences. These similarities and shared experiences are my main interest. I wanted to start a visual vocabulary that speaks about this very specific space. I do not expect to speak for a whole group. However, I do feel this is not a space that has not gotten much attention in the visual arts. There are many bi-racial artists who make art from a black point of view such as Robert Colescott, Romeare Bearden, Brett Cook Dizney, and Damali Ayo. Artist like Adrian Piper, Lezley Saar, and Gordon Bennett are a few bi-racial artists that are making art about this space. However, Piper and Saar come from a female perspective, and Bennett is Australian. I feel there are still many explorations to be taken in understanding bi-racial content through the visual arts.

Another interest in making this work is to create dialogue about race and issues pertaining to racism, stereotypes, marginalization, oppression, and otherness.

Often white people’s rage erupts because they believe that all ways of looking that highlight difference subvert the liberal belief in a universal subjectivity (we are all just people) that they think will make racism disappear. They have a deep emotional investment in the myth of “sameness,” even as their actions reflect the primacy of whiteness as a sign informing who they are and how they think.[25]

In making work around race issues, I have come to believe that talking about race does not come easy for many people. There are still barriers to break down, and I believe genuine communication about difference is the start to understanding and accepting others. My intent is for these images to ask questions of the viewers and start some kind of dialogue despite what they mean for me personally.

Visual Choices

There were some specific visual choices I made while creating this exhibition, In The Middle. One of these choices was to leave the backgrounds unpainted. The reason I decided to do this was to put more emphasis on the subjects, which are the figures. The narrative and “performance-like” engagement between the figures does not require a specific location. The blank background acts as a stage for these actions to occur. The space is ambiguous and has the ability to extend or narrow the situation. The context in which these performances are occurring is in relation to the viewer. The viewer brings his or her own personal narrative and experiences to the images. In this way, a dialogue of cultural information takes place. Expectations are either met or not met, questions are answered or not answered, or information is exchanged via conversation. It acts as a psychological space, a conversation with the self, and a place to confront thoughts, notions, attitudes, and stereotypes that the self contains and engages with on a daily basis.

Another choice I have made was to leave my underdrawing visible which reveals part of the process. These lines activate the surface of the canvas. Conceptually this is important. This is a reflection of the dynamism of my identity. It is changing and active. I am in the process of finding, exploring, and defining my own identity. This openness with my artistic process leaves room for change. It also leaves room for other interpretations other than my own. Through this honesty, there is a chance for resolution.

Conclusion

CROSS

My old man’s a white old man

And my mother’s black.

If ever I cursed my white old man,

I take my curses back.

If ever I cursed my old black mother

And wished she were in hell,

I’m sorry for that evil wish

And now I wish her well.

My old man died in a fine big house.

My ma died in a shack.

I wonder where I’m gonna die,

Being neither white nor black?

Langston Hughes

In The Middle is the beginning of figuring out who I am in relation to the place I am from and where I am going. I have struggled with my identity my whole life. It is fluid, dynamic, and there are multiple choices. In America I am black, but I could pass for white, Puerto Rican, Mexican, Caribbean, Creole, Middle Eastern, and most other colonized peoples as long as I kept my mouth shut. In The Middle is the beginning for making something new out of the old. There is a chance to create a new identity that is not tied to American racism. Not tied to the emotions of self-hate. It is a chance for a new people. “In his novel The House Behind the Cedars Chesnutt introduced a mulatto character, John Warwick, who, along with his sister, had ‘passed’ for white and made his way well up into the planter aristocracy of South Carolina. At one point in the story Warwick explained to a white friend that ‘you must take us for ourselves alone – we are new people.”[26] This is how I feel.