This is one reason why Mr. Muhammad’s teachings spread so swiftly all over the United States, among all Negroes, whether or not they became followers of Mr. Muhammad. The teachings ring true.… You can hardly show me a black adult in America—or a white one, for that matter—who knows from the history books anything like the truth about the black man’s role. In my own case, once I heard of the “glorious history of the black man,” I took special pains to hunt in the library for books that would inform me on details about black history.11
Malcolm’s period of immersion included embracing the teachings of the Nation of Islam. Though Malcolm X later rejected the Nation’s teachings in favor of the more racially inclusive message of orthodox Islam, his initial response to the Nation’s message of Black empowerment and self-reliance was very enthusiastic.
One reason the Nation of Islam continues to appeal to some urban Black youth, many of whom are not in college, is that it offers another expanded, positive definition of what it means to be Black. In particular, the clean-shaven, well-groomed representatives of the Nation who can be seen on city streets in Black neighborhoods emphasizing personal responsibility and Black community development offer a compelling contrast to the pervasive stereotypes of Black men.
The hunger for positive expressions of identity can be seen in the response of many Black men to the Nation of Islam’s organization of the Million Man March in October of 1995. The march can be understood as a major immersion event for every Black man who was there, and vicariously for those who were not. Author Michael Eric Dyson expressed this significance quite clearly: “As I stood at the Million Man March, I felt the powerful waves of history wash over me. There’s no denying that this march connected many of the men—more than a million, I believe—to a sense of racial solidarity that has largely been absent since the ’60s. I took my son to Washington so that he could feel and see, drown in, even, an ocean of beautiful black brothers.”12 It was an affirming and definition-expanding event for Black men. And despite the White commentators who offered their opinions about the march on television, it seemed to me that, for the participants, White people were that day irrelevant.
Twenty years later, in October of 2015, thousands of people, most of whom were Black men, gathered on the National Mall in Washington, DC, again in hopes of recapturing that empowering sense of solidarity. Among them was Reverend Ronald Bell Jr., a thirty-four-year-old pastor from Wilmington, Delaware, who at fourteen had attended the 1995 march with his father, Reverend Ronald Bell Sr. It made a significant impression on him then. “Just to see all those strong black men in one spot does something to you,” said Bell, who heads Wilmington’s Arise congregation. Holding his four-year-old son’s hand, he said, “I hope he gets the experience I did 20 years ago with just the visual that we are strong. That we may not be where we thought we’d be 20 years later but we’re still strong.”13
The need for space in which those who are subject to societal stigmatization—“low public regard”—can come together to construct a positive self-definition is, of course, also important for Black women. In her book Black Feminist Thought, Patricia Hill Collins identifies various ways that Black women have found to create such space in or out of the academy. “One location,” she writes, “involves Black women’s relationships with one another. In some cases, such as friendships and family interactions, these relationships are informal, private dealings among individuals. In others,… more formal organizational ties have nurtured powerful Black women’s communities.”14 Whether in the context of mother-daughter relationships, small social networks, Black churches, or Black women’s clubs and sororities, space is created for resisting stereotypes and creating positive identities.
Though Black churches can sometimes be criticized as purveyors of the dominant ideology, as evidenced in Eurocentric depictions of Jesus and sexist assumptions about the appropriate role of women, it is also true that historically Black churches have been the site for organized resistance against oppression and a place of affirmation for African American adults as well as for children. The National Survey of Black Americans, the largest collection of survey data on Black Americans to date, found very high rates of religious participation among Blacks in general and among women in particular.15 The survey respondents clearly indicated the positive role that the churches had played in both community development and psychological and social support.16 Many Black churches with an Afrocentric perspective are providing the culturally relevant information for which Black adults hunger. For example, in some congregations an informational African American history moment is part of the worship service and Bible study includes a discussion of the Black presence in the Bible. As these examples suggest, there are sources of information within Black communities that speak to the identity development needs of both young and older adults, but there is still a need for more.
Cycles of Racial-Ethnic-Cultural Identity Development
The process of REC-identity development, often emerging in adolescence and continuing into adulthood, is not so much linear as circular. It’s like moving up a spiral staircase: as you proceed up each level, you have a sense that you have passed this way before, but you are not in exactly the same spot. Moving through the immersion phase of intense and focused exploration to the internalization of an affirmed and secure sense of group identity does not mean there won’t be new and unsettling encounters with racism or the recurring desire to retreat to the safety of one’s same-race peer group, or that identity questions that supposedly were resolved won’t need to be revisited as life circumstances change.
It is also important to note that not every Black person experiences every aspect of the REC-identity process described here. Some people may find that other dimensions of their identity are simply more salient for them, and their REC-group membership may remain relatively unexplored.17 People of any educational background can get “stuck” without engaging in the active exploration that leads to more growth. In the language of James Marcia (discussed in Chapter 4), some may enter adulthood with a diffuse REC identity (little active exploration and no real psychological commitment to one’s REC group) or a foreclosed REC identity (accepting what others, such as parents, have defined without any active exploration of one’s own). For some, perhaps other dimensions of identity have been more salient (e.g., gender, religion, sexual orientation), becoming the focus of their psychological energy. In a longitudinal study of a diverse group of college students, researchers at the University of California, Santa Cruz, found that the ability to make connections across multiple domains of personal and social identity grew over time. “Typically during their first year, participants discussed the domains of personal and social identity… in relative isolation even when prompted by interview questions to discuss the connections between them. Such was not the case in senior interviews, when most spontaneously made these connections.”18
In his classic article “Cycles of Psychological Nigrescence,” counseling psychologist Thomas Parham expanded on Cross’ original model of racial identity development to explore the kind of changes in REC identity that a Black person might experience throughout the life cycle, not just in adolescence or early adulthood.19 For example, during middle adulthood, that broad span of time between the midthirties and the midfifties, individuals regardless of race come to terms with new physical, psychological, and social challenges. This period in the life span is characterized by changing bodies (gaining weight, thinning or graying hair, waning energy), increasing responsibilities (including rearing children and grandchildren and caring for aging parents), continuing employment concerns, and, often, increasing community involvement. In addition, Levinson argues that adults at midlife fluctuate between periods of stability and transition as they reexamine previous life decisions and commitments and choose to make minor or major changes in their lives.20 What role does REC identity play for Black adults at midlife?
Parham argues that “the middle-adulthood period of life may be the most
difficult time to struggle with racial identity because of one’s increased responsibilities and increased potential for opportunities.”21 Those whose work or lifestyle places them in frequent contact with Whites are aware that their ability to “make it” depends in large part on their ability and willingness to conform to those values and behaviors that have been legitimated by White culture. While it is unlikely that the lack of racial awareness that characterizes a young adolescent who has yet to have identity-triggering experiences would be found in a Black adult at midlife, some Black adults may have consciously chosen to retreat from actively identifying with other Blacks. These adults may have adopted a “raceless” persona as a way of winning the approval of White friends and coworkers.
In terms of child-rearing, adults who have distanced themselves from their REC group are likely to de-emphasize their children’s racial group membership as well. This attitude is captured in the comment of one father I interviewed who said that his children’s peer group was “basically non-Black.” Unlike other parents, who told me that they felt it was important that their children have Black friends and were regretful when they did not, this father said, “I think it’s more important that they have a socioeconomic group than a racial peer group.”22 In this case, class identification seemed more salient than racial identification.
Those adults who have adopted a strategy of racelessness may experience racial encounters in middle adulthood with particular emotional intensity. Because of the increased family responsibilities and financial obligations associated with this stage of life, the stakes are higher and the frustration particularly intense when a promotion is denied, a dream house is unattainable, or a child is racially harassed at school. Parham distinguishes between these “achievement-oriented” stresses of the upwardly mobile middle class and the “survival-related” stresses experienced by poor and working-class Blacks. However, he concludes that, regardless of a person’s social status, “if an individual’s sense of affirmation is sought through contact with and validation from Whites, then the struggle with one’s racial identity is eminent.”23
Survival stress is described by another father I interviewed who was worried not about promotions but about simply holding on to what he had already achieved:
Just being Black makes it hard, because people look at you like you’re not as good as they are, like you’re a second-class citizen, something like that. You got to always look over your shoulder like somebody’s always watching you. At my job, I’m the only Black in my department and it seems like they’re always watching me, the pressure’s always on to perform. You feel like if you miss a day, you might not have a job. So there’s that constant awareness on my part, they can snatch what little you have, so that’s a constant fear, you know, especially when you have a family to support.… So I’m always aware of what can happen.24
The chronically high rates of Black unemployment form the backdrop for this man’s fear. Under such circumstances, he is unlikely to speak up against the discrimination or racial hostility he feels.
While some adults struggle (perhaps in vain) to hold on to a “raceless” persona, other midlife adults express their racial identity through race-conscious, REC-group-affirming attitudes. On the job, they may be open advocates of institutional change, or because of survival concerns, they may feel constrained in how they express their anger. One male interviewee, working in a human service agency, fluctuated between being silent and speaking up:
It’s very difficult, and dealing with all the negative problems, and then going back and fighting the administration of the department that you’re working in, and fighting the racism, and squabbling of White males as well as White females, it’s really difficult, and one becomes programmed to be a little bit hard, but then in order to survive, you’ve got to control it, and generally I stay pretty much out of trouble. It’s just like playing a game in order to survive.25
This man’s experience was echoed in a study of Black professional workers in a variety of different occupations conducted by sociologist Adia Harvey Wingfield. She found that these adults had to manage their emotions carefully in order to be successful in the workplace. “In particular, black professionals had to be very careful to show conviviality and pleasantness, even—especially—in response to racial issues.”26 Though they may work in predominantly White settings, not unlike Black college students sitting together in the cafeteria, African American adults who are again actively exploring what it means to be Black in the context of a stressful work environment, for example, are likely to choose to spend most of their nonwork time in the company of other Black people.
Adults who have achieved a positive sense of REC identity are likely to be proactively race-conscious about their children’s socialization experiences, often choosing to live in a Black community. If the demographics of their geographic area do not permit such a choice, they will, in contrast to “raceless” parents, actively seek out Black playmates for their children wherever they can find them. One mother explained, “I’m not opposed to my child interacting with White children or kids of any other race, but I want them to have a Black peer group just for the sense of commonality, and sharing some of the same experiences, and just not losing that identity of themselves.”27
Individuals who have achieved resolution and have internalized their REC-group identity may also take a race-conscious perspective on child-rearing, but they may also have a multiracial social network. Yet, anchored in an empowered sense of racial identity, they make clear to others that their racial identity is important to them and that they expect it to be acknowledged. The White person who makes the mistake of saying, “Gee, I don’t think of you as Black” will undoubtedly be corrected. However, the inner security experienced by adults at this stage often translates into a style of interaction that allows them to bridge racial differences more easily than those adults still struggling with the REC-identity-related challenge.
Summarizing Parham’s concept of “identity recycling,” Cross and Cross write, “With age and experience it is inevitable for a new challenge to arise that exposes the limits of one’s foundational identity.… One must effectively process the challenge to resolution.”28 Some of the recycling that occurs in midlife is precipitated by observing the REC-identity processes of one’s children. Parham suggests that “parents may begin to interpret the consequences of their lifestyle choices (i.e., sending their children to predominantly White schools, living in predominantly White neighborhoods) through their children’s attitudes and behaviors and become distressed at what they see and hear from [them].”29 For example, a Black professor struggling with guilt over his choice to live in a predominantly White community suggested to his daughter that she should have more Black friends. She replied, “Why do I have to have Black friends? Just because I’m Black?” He admitted to himself that he was more concerned about her peer group than she was. When he told her that she could “pay a price” for having a White social life, she replied, “Well, Daddy, as you always like to say, nothing is free.”30
The process of reexamining racial identity can continue even into late adulthood. According to Erikson, the challenge of one’s later years is to be able to reflect on one’s life with a sense of integrity rather than despair.31 Although racism continues to impact the lives of the elderly—affecting access to quality health care and adequate pension funds, for example—Black retirees have fairly high levels of morale.32 Those who approach the end of their lives with a positive, well-internalized sense of REC identity are likely to reflect on life with that sense of integrity intact.
Just as group identity for people of color unfolds over the life span, so do gender, sexual, and religious identities, to name a few. Cross reminds us that “the work of internalization does not stop with the resolution of conflicts surrounding racial/cultural identity.” Referring to the work of his colleague Bailey Jackson, he adds that racial identity development should be viewed as “a process during which a single dimension
of a person’s complex, layered identity is first isolated, for purposes of revitalization and transformation, and then, at Internalization, reintegrated into the person’s total identity matrix.”33 Unraveling and reweaving the identity strands of our experience is a never-ending task in a society where important dimensions of our lives are shaped by the simultaneous forces of subordination and domination. We continue to be works in progress for a lifetime.
The Corporate Cafeteria
When I told my sister I was writing a book called Why Are All the Black Kids Sitting Together in the Cafeteria? she said, “Good, then maybe people will stop asking me about it.” My sister spends her time not at a high school or college campus but in a corporate office. Even in corporate cafeterias, Black men and women are sitting together, and for the same reason. As we have seen, even mature adults sometimes need to connect with someone who looks like them and who shares the same experiences.
It might be worth considering here why the question is asked at all. In A Tale of “O,” psychologist Rosabeth Moss Kanter offers some insight. She highlights what happens to the O, the token, in a world of Xs.34 In corporate America, Black people are still in the O position. One consequence of being an O, Kanter points out, is heightened visibility. When an O walks in the room, the Xs notice. Whatever the O does, positive or negative, stands out because of this increased visibility. It is hard for an O to blend in. When several Os are together, the attention of the Xs is really captured. Without the tokens present in the room, the Xs go about their business, perhaps not even noticing that they are all Xs. But when the O walks in, the Xs are suddenly self-conscious about their X-ness. In the context of race relations, when the Black people are sitting together, the White people notice and become self-conscious about being White in a way that they were not before. In part, the question reflects that self-consciousness. What does it say about the White people if the Black people are all sitting together? A White person may wonder, “Am I being excluded? Are they talking about me? Are my own racial stereotypes and perhaps racial fears being stimulated?”
Why Are All the Black Kids Sitting Together in the Cafeteria? Page 20
