“Don’t retaliate, or you’ll come off as a stereotype.”
In other words, don’t express your opinion or you’ll be identified as an angry black woman.
If you know me, you would know that I come off as approachable and respectful.
A firm believer in the Golden Rule – treat people the way you would like other people to treat you. However, I will not pass up the opportunity to speak up and defend myself when wrongfully accused.
I am entitled to feel and express my concerns. So, when I was told not to voice an issue by a colleague, of course I was hurt.
The stereotypes of black women are albatrosses and often described as poor, loud, angry or rely on government funding in order to support all 20 of their kids.
At the dawn of 20th century media, the trope of the angry black woman became popularized on the series “The Amos ‘n’ Andy Show.”
Sapphire, the main character, was known as the hands-on-hips, eye-rolling, emasculating and gum-chewing black woman. The rise of the angry black woman continued from there and, to this day, is still portrayed in television series. But not all black women are Sapphires.
Media has continued to paint a negative representation of black people in general, conveyed to the public through music videos, reality television, news, film and social media.
As a matter of fact, not all black people are uneducated, on food stamps, thugs or walk slow. Not all African-American success is based on affirmative action.
So many misinterpretations have come with the color of my skin, and because of that, I’ve always been told to work 10 times harder to achieve anything by my parents.
Originally born in Zimbabwe, I moved to America in 2001, and dealing with prejudice has been difficult.
Over the course of my time in the United States, I have noticed being from Africa, some people automatically assume that I grew up underprivileged.
I have had people ask me bewildering questions that are out of this world.
“Did you grow up in a hut?”
“Did you use a lion as your mode of transportation?”
“Did you eat rhino phallus for dinner?”
Each shell-shocking question made me cringe in disbelief.
Growing up, in primary school, I refused to share where I was born, and I dreaded pronouncing my last name in class. The people that called me “an African booty scratcher” are the same people who are now wearing dashikis.
In order for my peers to accept me as their equal, I tried to hyper-Americanize.
I later came to the conclusion that masking myself wasn’t benefiting me. I was frustrated that I had to edit myself in order to minimize attention. I was frustrated at the lack of acceptance. I was frustrated that my skin affected the way people viewed me. My painful experiences of racism, however, made me accept my heritage and skin.
All I ask is for people’s thoughts to be cognizant before they become judgements. It’s time for to us as individuals to get to know someone before prejudging.
To not make assumptions about a certain group of people based off of others or what is portrayed in the media. The ugliness of stereotypes cannot prevail any longer.
Ethel Mwedziwendira is a sophomore journalism major from McKinney, Texas.
