“she should have been a boy, then color of skin wouldn’t have mattered so much, for wasn’t her mother always saying that a black boy could get along, but that a black girl would never know anything but sorrow and disappointment?”
i find more comfort in books than i do in people, and this book reaffirmed exactly why i’ve always felt this. the fact that i resonate so deeply with books about black girls who wish they were white or just despise the colour of their skin really shows the kind of childhood i had and the people that i chose to spend my time with growing up. being the only black girl in the class can either teach you two things: resilience or self-hatred, and occasionally, both. emma lou hated being black; or rather, how dark she was, because black girls never make it big in the world, and dark-skinned ones are doomed from conception.
“the blacker the berry, the sweeter the juice;” a phrase that’s been thrown around for years that holds a lot more weight than i ever thought to consider. the one thing that’s always annoyed me about the black community is that while when we come together we achieve great things, internalised racism is still so prevalent, to an alarming extent. the people who are supposed to stand with you are the ones saying you’re “too dark” or “too loud” and whatnot; black girls have had their femininity questioned since birth by men who are disgusted by women the same colour as their mothers, and men who fetishise the idea of being with a “chocolate darling.” black girls grow up hating their skin colour, wishing their hair was straight and easier to manage, wondering why no boy in their class looks at them the way they look at their white counterparts. black girls shouldn’t have to continuously prove their worth in compensation for their complexion
“was she supersensitive about her colour? did she encourage colour prejudice among her own people, simply by being so expectant of it?”
the fact that this book was swept under the rug during the civil rights movement makes me more irate than anything, because the only way a problem can be eradicated is if we tackle it head on. honestly it shows even more that internalised racism was, and still is, a major issue within the black community. i get that during the movement it was best for us to look like a stronger together, but even still, ignoring an issue doesn’t make it go away; it’s still alive and well today, annoyingly at that.
wallace thurman achieved something beautiful with this book. it was poignant, introspective, and almost damning in a sense that it shows we need to do more for each other. it reminded me so much of “the bluest eye” by toni morrison, another powerhouse of a book that sheds more light on internalised racism. i’ll definitely be visiting this book again soon in the future, and it’s definitely one i recommend everyone reads at least once in their life.
"we are all living in a totally white world, where all standards are the standards of the white man, and where almost invariably what the white man does is right, and what the black man does is wrong, unless it is precedented by something; white man has done."
"which," cora added scornfully, "makes it all right for light negroes to discriminate against dark ones?"
"not at all" truman objected. "it merely explains, not justifies, the evil-or rather, the fact of intra-racial segregation.”