ARCHIVES
EDUCATION | COVID-19 | TECH | SOCIAL | WORK | ENVIRONMENT | POLITICS | CRIMINAL JUSTICE
Don’t forget to subscribe ›
Believe Black women.
Last Sunday, March 7, Prince Harry and Meghan Markle sat down with Oprah Winfrey for a tell-all interview on stepping down as senior members of the royal family. In that interview, Meghan Markle named that the stress and anxiety from the defamatory press led her to suicidal ideation, but she received no mental health support from the palace. She also details the racism that she and her child, Archie, experienced directly, including that the Crown would not provide her son titles or protections and that someone in the family questioned how dark his skin would be (Vulture).
Happy Wednesday and welcome back to the Anti-Racism Daily. I'm still sitting with the "Harry and Meghan" interview with Oprah. Two of the most powerful Black women on Earth sat and discussed racism, oppression and mental health live on television. But you don't need to be in positions of power to experience the harm and rejection that Meghan Markle named. Today's newsletter unpacks some of this, along with links to great content to dive deeper.
This newsletter is a free resource made possible by our paying subscribers. Consider giving $7/month on Patreon. Or you can give one-time on our website, PayPal, or Venmo (@nicoleacardoza). You can also support us by joining our curated digital community. Thank you to all those that have contributed!
Nicole
TAKE ACTION
Donate to the Loveland Foundation, a nonprofit organization founded by Rachel Cargle that provides therapy resources to Black women and girls (which is supported by Meghan Markle’s foundation). Black women: apply for support here.
One way to prioritize racism allegations is to de-prioritize those that gaslight or diminish those that speak out. Actively seek to use your privilege to address those like Piers Morgan who aim to discredit serious claims.
Believe Black women when they say they have been harmed.
GET EDUCATED
By Nicole Cardoza (she/her)
This post references suicidal ideation. If you are in need of support, call the National Suicide Prevention Lifeline at 1-800-273-8255.
Last Sunday, March 7, Prince Harry and Meghan Markle sat down with Oprah Winfrey for a tell-all interview on stepping down as senior members of the royal family. In that interview, Meghan Markle named that the stress and anxiety from the defamatory press led her to suicidal ideation, but she received no mental health support from the palace. She also details the racism that she and her child, Archie, experienced directly, including that the Crown would not provide her son titles or protections and that someone in the family questioned how dark his skin would be (Vulture).
This interview only reaffirmed what became quickly apparent after Meghan Markle and Prince Harry began dating in 2016: that the tabloids, and perhaps even members of the royal family themselves, treated Markle differently because of her racial identity. There are countless examples of the disparities of headlines for Markle vs. Kate Middleton and headlines making unfair accusations based on her race, referencing her (false) “gang-scarred” upbringing and “exotic DNA.”
These only escalated after the couple announced their departure in early 2020. The tabloids blasted their departure as a “Megexit,” using a term that was already a popular hashtag online where users would post racist and sexist comments about Meghan Markle (Vanity Fair). As the couple said in their interview, they decided to move to the U.S. to escape the abuse they experienced in the U.K.
Because Meghan is Black, she experienced a particular form of misogyny: misogynoir. Coined by queer black feminist Moya Bailey, this term explains the misogyny directed towards black women where both race and gender influence the bias and discrimination that one may experience.
But we didn’t need to wait for Meghan Markle to analyze the anti-Blackness of the British monarchy. Since its start, it’s been deeply invested in the enslavement and control of Black people. By investing in English trade with West Africa, the Crown hoped to find financial independence from Parliament. Between 1690 and 1807, European enslavers brought over 6 million enslaved African people to the Americas. Half of that trafficking was protected and funded by the Crown and Parliament (Slate). Although the Crown first publicly supported anti-slavery efforts in 1838, they have still yet to address their contributions to the system or the harm they’ve created, even after the past year’s racial reckoning. We can also look to the impact of British colonial rule on the destruction and disparagement of African culture, community, and heritage, an effect that persists to this day (Quartz).
There’s a lot of criticism against Meghan Markle for participating in this system. If she knew about colonialism and anti-Blackness in the institution, why would she even marry into it, to begin with? Why didn’t she expect to deal with racism all along? And quite frankly, that’s no one’s business but hers. We need to continue to question why these systems continue to perpetuate violence instead of chastizing how marginalized folks choose to navigate through them. What do we gain from punishing the victim? What do we lose when we fail to hold our institutions accountable? Why is it up to one woman to protect herself from a legacy of harm?
We also need to emphasize the light skin privilege on display here. Meghan Markle is a very light-skinned Black woman with a Black mother and white father. Colorism is the reason why Meghan Markle was likely even able to marry Prince Harry and be considered a part of the family to begin with. She experienced this violence because she was “white enough” to be included and still “too Black” to be loved, respected, and protected. Darker-skinned Black women experience more misogynoir than their lighter-skinned peers (Change Cadet). But light-skinned women are often more privileged to have a platform to share their experiences. So as you follow stories of misogynoir, always look for what you don’t see, too. Colorism is especially insidious in British culture. Learn more in this comprehensive article by Seun Matiluko (Glamour UK).
We don’t have to wait for breaking news to find examples of racism against Black women, though. Meghan Markle bravely named the same kind of fear, guilt, and shame that many Black people have experienced at their offices or dinner parties or while buying groceries or meeting their significant other’s family. 17.1 million people tuned in to this conversation last night on CBS, but how many of us are listening when we have a front-row seat to this violence happening in real life? Her statements came as no surprise to many Black Britons who have experienced the same racism and discrimination themselves (AP News).
Many people have reflected on how damaging the interview is to the monarchy. But how much has the monarchy hurt us? And this goes beyond its legacy of colonialism and oppression. We have to recognize its complicity of normalizing and perpetuating misogynoir on a global platform through its treatment of Meghan Markle. We must recognize the harm inflicted on Meghan Markle, her son Archie, and her daughter.
And most urgently, we must recognize how it harms the Black women in our community. Listen to what we say. Believe us. Platform our voices, not those of white men committed to disparaging us (Washington Post). Ensure we have the tools we need for our well-being. And, for all of this, prioritize the safety and wellbeing of dark-skinned Black women.
KEY TAKEAWAYS
The "Harry and Meghan" interview with Oprah was the first time the couple publicly addressed why they stepped down as senior members of the royal family and named the racism and harm they experienced from the tabloids and members of the royal family.
Meghan Markle is subject to misogynoir, a specific form of misogyny where race and gender both play a part.
Meghan is a light-skinned Black woman, which gives her a particular set of privileges that also fail to protect her from harm.
RELATED ISSUES
11/18/2020 | Advocate for missing Black women.
PLEDGE YOUR SUPPORT
Thank you for all your financial contributions! If you haven't already, consider making a monthly donation to this work. These funds will help me operationalize this work for greatest impact.
Subscribe on Patreon | Give one-time on PayPal | Venmo @nicoleacardoza
Understand the white-presenting experience.
My mother has always taught me that I was a Black woman. My fair skin and blue eyes were, in her words, simply a product of centuries of violence on Black people and the effects of colonization. Had I been born in another era, my appearance would not have freed me from slavery, nor would it have offered me much more privelege in a world where people looked to expose “white-passing negroes.” In fact, one of my passing ancestors was hired by Macy’s and was unceremoniously dismissed when they discovered that she was Black.
Happy Wednesday and welcome back to the Anti-Racism Daily. I was excited to see that Passing, a 1929 novel on the white-presenting experience by Nella Larsen, had been adapted into a movie that premiered at the Sundance Film Festival this past weekend (LA Times). Nia joins us today to chat first-hand about the white-presenting experience.
Are you signed up for our 28 Days of Black HIstory exhibition yet? Camille Bethune-Brown and Shanaé Burch have curated an incredible series, and I've had the privilege to enjoy it alone for the past month. I can't wait for ya'll to see it unfold: 28daysofblackhistory.com.
Thank you all for your support. This newsletter is made possible by our subscribers. Consider subscribing for $7/month on Patreon. Or you can give one-time on our website or PayPal. You can also support us by joining our curated digital community.
Nicole
TAKE ACTION
Shift your language to say “white presenting” instead of “white passing” when referring to Black people that physically look white.
Learn about the history of the “one drop rule” that allowed for the disenfranchisement and continued enslavement of Black people in America with white ancestry.
Read books like “The Vanishing Half” by Brit Bennett and “Passing” by Nella Larsen.
GET EDUCATED
By Nia Norris (she/her)
My mother has always taught me that I was a Black woman. My fair skin and blue eyes were, in her words, simply a product of centuries of violence on Black people and the effects of colonization. Had I been born in another era, my appearance would not have freed me from slavery, nor would it have offered me much more privelege in a world where people looked to expose “white-passing negroes.” In fact, one of my passing ancestors was hired by Macy’s and was unceremoniously dismissed when they discovered that she was Black.
This story has been told over and over again in pop culture since the 19th century. Initially introduced by Lydia Maria Child, the “tragic mulatto” is a character that has been explored repeatedly in literature and film. Child told the story of the light-skinned descendant of a slave-owner and a slave whose identity was discovered. She lost her white lover and her status and was subsequently enslaved (Ferris). This trope was replicated over and over again in pop culture, painting mulatto women as sexual objects, and often ending with the tortured mulatto committing suicide or losing everything due to the discovery of their “Blackness” (ThoughtCo).
We can’t talk about the “tragic mulatto” without also discussing the “one drop rule” of slavery and the Jim Crow era. In American history, Blackness was defined as having “one Black ancestor.” This rule effectively enabled America to keep the mixed-race descendants of slaves and slave owners enslaved, and to disenfranchise mixed-raced Americans from suffrage and opportunities. Whiteness is something that has largely been forced upon us through rape and colonization (PBS).
So my mother taught me to appreciate my Blackness from a very young age, in spite of me being under the illusion that it was mostly irrelevant. I have joked that she named me Imani Nia (both Swahili names and principles of Kwanzaa) so that I would have to explain to everyone upon introduction that I was biracial, despite these baby blues. However, my Blackness is, has always been, and always will be a major part of my identity. My entire family is Black and has many trailblazers in our lineage. My grandfather was a legal clerk on Brown v. The Board of Education and my grandmother was the first Black woman in Western Pennsylvania to head a major charitable organization. My great-grandmother was a union organizer.
Another problematic facet of being white-passing is society’s desire to separate us into a binary, or force us to identify one way or another. There is a pressure to identify with one group or another (NPR). White people have often told me that I am “white” because of my skin tone, and have been told that my children (who have a white father) are also white. It has been suggested to me that I raise my children as white, which I find problematic because this would require me to effectively cancel their ancestors. Instead, I will teach my children that Blackness can be found in all spectrums.
So what does white-passing look like in America today? I have largely switched to saying white-presenting as opposed to white-passing. The historical context of white-passing is rooted in violence and disenfranchisement of fair-skinned Black Americans. However, we also cannot acknowledge this without also mentioning colorism, when light-skinned Black people (and white Americans) tend to turn their internalized racism towards darker-skinned Black people. For example, there was a higher monetary value set for light-skinned slaves, and even historically Black sororities and fraternities have been known to show colorism in member selection. (Nova Southeastern University). Even today, light-skinned Black Americans are less likely to run into the same barriers as their darker-skinned counterparts (Time).
To say “white-passing” has the implication that I have the desire to pass, which is one I have never had. What’s more interesting is the desire of white Americans to claim Black ancestry, as shown by Jessica Krug and Rachel Dolezal (NBC). These women used their false claims of Black ancestry to take up spaces and procure funding that could have otherwise been for people of color, provoking a national dialogue
When examining my own identity, I have largely decided that the only identity that I need to claim is my Black identity. For a long time, I said mixed or biracial, but another Black woman explained to me, we are all mixed due the violent history of our country. This made sense to me, so I shifted my language to Black. In America, we have never been asked or expected to claim our whiteness, instead it is something that has been inflicted upon us without allowing us the opportunity to claim the benefits.
KEY TAKEAWAYS
Blackness in America comes in all colors, and most Black Americans are mixed to some degree.
Historically, the term “white-passing” was used to disenfranchise Black Americans with white ancestry.
In recent years, white Americans such as Jessica Krug and Rachel Dolezal have tried to capitalize on a Black ancestry that was not theirs to claim.
RELATED ISSUES
11/26/2020 | Support the land back movement.
12/17/2020 | Respect Hawaii’s sacred land.
6/25/2020 | Capitalize B in Black and I in Indigenous.
PLEDGE YOUR SUPPORT
Thank you for all your financial contributions! If you haven't already, consider making a monthly donation to this work. These funds will help me operationalize this work for greatest impact.
Subscribe on Patreon | Give one-time on PayPal | Venmo @nicoleacardoza