Evolution Of A Queen

liquornspice:

“OF COURSE I am “concerned,” tightly, “with human welfare and the reduction of suffering.” I cite, star, and esteem all that which is of woman - human and hardly human. And I want the people of the world to anticipate unity, active interest in empathy. I commend a unity of distinct proud pieces. Not a Stew. A unity of distinct proud pieces. Because each entity is lovely — amazing — exhilarating in uniquity and boldness of clear distinction, good design. I hope that in the world, always, there will be Black, brown, yellow, white, red. (And if Time has some surprises for us let us welcome them too.) None of this — this interest in and subscription to ALL — can ever turn me from my healthy concern for my Black Extension. It hurts me that so many members of that Extension would rather be anything but Black. There is this hulking inner nervousness when the word Black is heard. As I said some time ago, and find myself repeating, it is the kind of nervousness that sends throngs of Blacks running to the currently popular “security” (quotes! quotes!) of the phrase “African-American,” a phrase now self-consciously beginning to invade our literature. What, in the next fifty years, can this mean to our Black lives, our Black literature and launch? FAMILYHOOD. The current motion to make the phrase “African-American” an official identification is cold and excluding. What of our Family members in Ghana? — in Tanzania? — in Kenya? — in Nigeria? — in South Africa? — in Brazil? Why are we pushing them out of our consideration? — out of our concern. The capitalized names Black and Blacks were appointed to comprise an open, sensitizing, wide-stretching, unifying, empowering umbrella. Some Blacks announce “That name Black does not describe all of us.” Does the name “white” describe all of the people claiming its services? Those skins are yellow and rose and cocoa and cream and pink and gray and scarlet, and rust and purple and taupe and tan. Ecru. But the word “white,” to those who wear it, is sacrosanct, is to be guarded, cherished. My beside-the-bed dictionary says: Caucasian — a member of the light-skinned division (get that: division) of humanity. With my own little Kojo in “Children Coming Home” I assert: I am other than Hyphenation. ………. I am a Black…. And I capitalize my name. Do not call me out of my name. This objection of mine to the designation African-American is not popular. Nevertheless! The phrase is ISLANDING. The phrase is limiting. The phrase is weak. Today’s popularization is very sly: the appellation comes already capitalized. That detail appeals to many Blacks. The Black spirit, the Black fighting spirit, like any other spirit, sometimes gets tired. The Black spirit fought so painfully to get “colored” capitalized, and “Negro” capitalized, and Black capitalized. Newspapers and magazines, in referring to Black people as Blacks, still refuse to honor the notion of respectable and respected identity, and insist on spelling Blacks with a little “b.” The tiredness of the Black spirit has noted this, and with glee has noted that “African-American” comes all capitalized (no fight involved) and that white people, although much amused by the entire Little Fray, albeit with a little paternalistic head-shaking. “Tsk tsk. What will these weird little creatures think of next? Odd. Bizarre. But, at least, no offensiveness here. Almost a honeyed music: AF-ri-can A-MER-i-can.” (As opposed to B-L-A-C-K ! Which comes right out to meet you, eye to eye.)”

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Gwendolyn Brooks, Report From Part Two. pp. 131-33.