For most of my life, I didn’t realize I was culturally black. I knew I didn’t have white skin, I’ve always known my skin color and physical traits, but it wasn’t until I got to college that I really understood being a black woman has its own culture, beyond skin color and hair. It’s about understanding history: why there are black people in certain spaces, why society works the way it does, how a great deal of generational wealth in the US is drenched in white guilt. The thing is, I don’t come from the U.S. or Europe, and because of that, race is seen a bit differently in a place filled with rich and historically mixed cultures that have blended into the intercultural archipelago that is Puerto Rico and the Caribbean.
In Puerto Rico, we have this common “thing”— because I don’t even know what to call it — where we claim to be “the perfect race” because we come from Spaniards (who invaded), Africans (who were forcefully brought to Puerto Rico to be enslaved), and the original Taíno population of Puerto Rico (who were killed trying to fight for their land). And in part it’s true: the fact that we are a culture made up of more cultures, but not the “perfect race” part. Although I find the mix beautiful because Puerto Ricans are a beautiful people, this narrative of the “perfect race” clouds the reality that we don’t talk about — the real racial issues in our society. Not just racism, but colorism too. Colorism is “prejudice or discrimination against individuals with a dark skin tone, typically among people of the same ethnic or racial group.”
Before diving into the issues with colorism, we have to address the elephant in the room, which is just that. Almost raised with culture, we shouldn’t talk about certain things or ask certain questions, which only leads to more problems (not just racial problems). What Puerto Ricans need to understand is that we let go of our power when we stay quiet and complacent. But, when we talk about the issues and educate ourselves on them, we empower ourselves and our communities.
Racism and colorism aren’t subjects we as a society discuss as issues, for instance. There’s too many people who don’t see them as such, and that is due to the narrative of the three races and diversity coexisting in the archipelago. Even though diversity is something to be celebrated, we have to acknowledge there are real people that have to live with being reduced to the color of their skin and the stereotypes created by bigotry.
For the longest time, I was someone who did not understand that reality, but the more I grew up and gained social awareness, the more I realized that sometimes you find yourself being one of the five black students in your class, or that black people are never the majority in any of your classes. Or that when you start to really think about it, in the 2 and a half years you’ve been in college, only 2-4 of your professors have been black, and 2 of them were classes with racial studies topics. You start to see the divide everywhere and realize that even though you’re almost never (because I can’t say never) excluded or judged based on your skin color, you are in fact a part of that minority in these spaces. As I started to realize that, and talk about it, I also noticed that some people started to argue with me or disagree, because I identified and talked about being a black woman. Not because they were necessarily racist, but because they had this idea of what being a black person was for them and it automatically was a dark skinned black person. As if I wasn’t “black” enough to call myself a black person, which is ridiculous because, in our community, we have a spectrum of beauty that doesn’t reduce us to a supposed idea or stereotype in order to be a black person. That’s when I learned what colorism was, how present it was in Puerto Rico, and how there are cases where both white people and black people in the archipelago exclude you because they don’t see you as part of either of them. And take it from me, this is not a position you want to be in.
A lot of the time, it was hard understanding that reality because I had also just started understanding there was a whole culture and history that I am a part of along with so many other people, especially in Puerto Rico. Something that I found comfort in was the arts. Literature, music, and the representation of incredible artists that look like me and have found their spaces in the black community. I do have to say, this isn’t something that was necessarily holding me back in my life and accomplishments, but it was this looming presence of exclusion; comments, looks, and even silences that would express it. Understanding what was going on led me to beautiful things and incredible artists that gave me new perspectives with their art and music. Artists like: Joan Quiñones, a nuyorican painter, who although lived most of her life in the US, helped boost the representation of black Puerto Ricans, creating spaces for new artists who didn’t know they could be great. Another artist is Miguel Piñero, who was a poet and actor. As a person who loves the art of poetry, I admire him as an artist. Someone who is an old musician, but new to me, is Elena Burke, a Cuban singer who is frankly amazing. Her voice is beautiful and strong. There are also artists in one of two of my favorite genres of music: jazz and blues. Outstanding voices like Nina Simone, Ella Fitzgerald, Louis Armstrong, Etta James, and Ray Charles.
Another genre whose artists have created spaces for black people in every sense of the word is R&B. This genre is the perfect mix of soul and blues with spectacular lyricism and feeling. A lot of its artists have promoted their culture and experiences in the black community using their music to do so, something that as a writer and singer I admire profoundly. Artists that I listen to constantly include: Brent Faiyaz, Q, Daniel Caesar, Victoria Monet, Tyler the Creator, Childish Gambino, Laila!, and Tems and Celeste. These are only some of the impactful artists who have been paramount in creating black spaces with their music and a lot of them cite their music as a part of who they are. It is so important that we as people recognize the spaces we are in and the cultures we are a part of. When we do so, we understand where we come from, we understand the people who have fought and, in some cases, given their lives for the rights we have now. Recognizing the importance of speaking out and identifying the realities in which we live, opens our eyes to so many incredible people and history. I leave you with the hope that you can identify artists and people in your communities that have helped create spaces where you can feel seen, respected, and treated as a peer. People will always be stronger in community.