I laughed when media observers clucked over the supposed need for Michelle Obama to soften her image to become First Lady worthy. The fuss over Michelle’s image seemed to stem from some observers’ realization that a Michelle Obama can exist and thrive. For people who live as citizens of the world, Michelle Obama is not new. She is a human and humane integral part of the world.
In other words, we get her because she has an authentic, heartfelt commitment to her family, her various roles and (equally important) her self. Because of who she is, her new role as the first African American First Lady of the United States will have ripple effects for years to come. Historically, sartorially (Love the red dress she wore on Monday to the White House!) and culturally. Lucky for him, President Elect Barack Obama also got her, too.
Watching their obvious affection for each other, I’ve become mildly obsessed about how Obama’s choice of a life partner might impact dating and colorism for black men who due to talent, skill or luck are in the public eye. Because Michelle doesn’t fit the prototype of the women often chosen to be on the arms of the powerful, wealthy and/or famous black men.
Exhibit 1 – Tiger and Elle Woods with daughter
I’ve been discussing this with my girlfriends but have been reluctant to write it down until I was spurred by two things. A comment (from Emma) on Ta-Nehisi Coates’ thoughtful, humorous blog post, Who Knows What Lies in the Heart of sistahgirls, which explored what would be the fallout from black women if it was discovered that Barack Obama cheated on Michelle with a white woman:
I have often wondered if Barack would have deemed Michelle “good enough” because of her dark skin if he had grown up in the AA community and had the same kind of preference for light skin/long hair drilled into him by other black folks. White beauty standards may be the historical source of our colorism, but we are engaging in self-inflicted wounds at this point. Your daughter was probably dealing with boys who wanted the kinds of girls in hip-hop vidoes. When I see a dark skinned girl in a music video it still catches my attention.
Emma, I hear you.
Then I read Entertainment Weekly’s Margeaux Watson’s blog post Beauty and the beat which explores how colorism is possibly impacting the current crop of women in R&B/hip-hop:
As Michelle Obama prepares to take her place in history as the nation’s first African-American First Lady, it feels regressive to have to point out that the female presence on today’s R&B/hip-hop charts looks alarmingly pale in comparison to the abundance of guys like T-Pain, Lil Wayne, and Kanye West. Before you get your knickers in a twist, let me be clear: I’m not talking about the crossover success of pop stars such as Fergie and Gwen Stefani, but rather the current lack of diversity among black women in music. Hugely talented as they are, Beyoncé, Rihanna, and Alicia Keys have all undoubtedly benefited from a color-conscious double standard that favors artists who look like them over, say, Estelle and Kelly Rowland. Of course, it wasn’t always like this. Back in the day, Lauryn Hill, Brandy, Foxy Brown, and Missy Elliott were among the hottest names in the game; India.Arie had a Grammy-winning moment; and Mary J. Blige remains an inspirational trailblazer. But now it appears that vocal powerhouses such as Jennifer Hudson and Fantasia are increasingly rare exceptions to the widely held notion that darker-hued black women don’t sell records.
More fuel for me to wonder if Michelle in her dark & lovely glory will make the best and brightest black men reconsider their years of living and loving the light skin, long hair and/or white is better aesthetic.
Yeah, I’m looking at Tiger. I’m eyeballing Russell Simmons. And, oh hell, most of the NBA.
Exhibit 2 – Kevin & Brandi Garnett
Exhibit 3 – Carmelo Anthony & La La Vazquez
(Not pictured: Grant Hill, Kobe Bryant, Gilbert Arenas, Lil’ Wayne)
Okay statistically the choices of Kevin and Carmelo may not prove my point, but there is some truth to the urban wisdom that famous (and the not so famous) black men seem to prefer women with lighter skintones. I can’t presume to know the specific reasons for this. Do their parents whisper a mantra into their ears after reading a bedtime story? Is it self-hatred? Is it peer pressure? Who knows the cognitive roadmap that deposits so many successful black men at that point.
I do know the history. A quick visit to a make-up counter showcases the limitless range of African American skin tones. Tawny, cocoa, antelope, warm caramel, sheer espresso, toffee are just a few of the enticing names that reflect this diversity. Years of involuntary and voluntary miscegenation has made it so. The sadness is how many people nurture and nourish the belief that the closer a black person approximates whiteness in skin tone and hair texture automatically translates into being the best. (It is my guess that every black person in America has a story about an older relative who admonished them to get out of the sun at one point in their lives. Crazy, right? Just a gut feeling.) Translation: a black woman can be a thief, a backstabber, a liar, but as long as she has the look deemed desirable and worthy, it’s all good:
“It’s rare that I do dark butts – that’s what I call dark skinned women…I [don’t date women] darker than me.” “I love the pool test. If you can jump in the pool exactly like you are and you don’t come out looking better than you looked before going in the pool – then that’s not a good look. Any woman that uses brown gel to set down her baby hair is not poppin.”
There was a stage in my life where I went crazy with dating white women. I have nothing against black women, but they’re raised differently. White women are raised to respect and serve their men. Black women are taught to question [their men]. Black women look at submission as being weak. White women look at submission as being a woman. And anyone who has a problem with this statement is ignorant. Just look at the divine order: it goes God, man, woman, child.
It’s this type of shallow, vapid thinking that infects us all. Makes us question each other and ourselves in dimly lit crowded bars and at quiet, dignified dinner parties. From my friend RockStar:
College repeated the same social pattern among the black students, but having gone to a racially-mixed high school in New York City, i was used to having all kinds of friends. Can’t say it didn’t hurt at times to be overlooked. i had a roommate once who told me that the reason boys didn’t notice me was because they couldn’t SEE me in the dark of a party.
I wonder how many women can relate to RockStar’s experience and how many will find it relatable in the years ahead. I wonder if there will be any acknowledgment of the contempt and fuckedupness of practicing this bigotry. And if there are any attempts to rewire the thought process that keeps such ugliness in circulation.
“If it wasn’t for race mixing there’d be no video girls. Me and most of our friends like mutts a lot. Yeah, in the hood they call ‘em mutts”.
I don’t know what’s going to happen during an Obama Presidency. I will admit my concern for black men to reconsider their worship at the light skin altar is not the biggest problem facing the world. But I would like to imagine that every time Barack and Michelle emerge from Air Force One, take a trip abroad or host a State Dinner, there will be one, two and then hundreds of black men expanding their horizons of who they can love.
In the meantime, I will listen to Brother Stevie sing:
