10 Learned Behaviors of a Black Girl

January 17, 2015 / Andie Berry

Editor’s Description: Growing up as a Black girl, my parents lathered me with the sort of rules and expectations that we, in the Black feminist community, now call respectability politics.

I often felt like my parents were teaching me to be a complacent, extremely hardworking robot-woman (i.e. the mammy archetype). I now realize that they were doing their best to teach me how to survive the intersections of being Black and a woman in a world that hated both.

They weren’t doing that to teach me complacency; they were doing it to ensure my safety to the best of their ability.

It’s poems like this that help us understand just how pervasively universal misogynoir is and how frustrating it is that so many Black girls have to learn survival at the expense of the integrity that comes with authentic self-expression.

Black women should not have to live their lives in a state constant apology for other people to feel safe.

Click for the Transcript

ANDIE BERY: Ten learned behaviors of a black girl.

1. Mash the words “me” and “I” and the differences between them. Say “thank you” when your parents correct you at the dinner table. Grammar becomes so important when you’re always trying to prove yourself.

2. Ignore the compliment of how articulate you are. Do not point out that etymology of articulate only relates to the smooth mechanics of your jaw. Accept that they will never call you eloquent.

3. When you raise your hand in class, hesitate. Because no matter what you say, they will think you are perpetuating the stereotype. Which stereotype? I have no idea.

Speak slowly, so don’t lose the way, the assumptions they’ve already made about you. Let your voice persuade them. This is no longer an auction block or a minstrel movie. You are no longer a spectacle. With each word, the noose becomes looser.

4. When you go shopping, become accustomed to wearing these tight pants and carrying small bags. Minimize the number of places they can accuse you of hiding things.

Clerks will still follow you around as if they were not wearing name tags moments ago. Walk through the aisles with open hands as if you were already in surrender.

5. When walking behind people, become hyper-aware of how close you are to strangers. Slow. Stay at least five steps behind them. Make sure you can’t accidentally reach out and touch them. Do this to make them feel better, even if you are running late.

6. When you are ignored by your non-black friends on the street, pardon them. Out of context and a glimpsing glance, you are only another black face to avoid eye contact with.

Another purse snatch, another liar, another nightmare second.

When you are ignored by your black friends on the street, pardon them. Out of context and a glimpsing glance, they have not yet learned how to untie their tongue and say hello to you.

8. Recognize that for some people, you will always be a fetish, an entire race diminished to the eccentricity of obscure bands and cult movies.

Let bygones be bygones. There are too many bigots in the world to help them all. Bear with them.

9. Smile at least twice as often as you frown. Get so good at smiling, it no longer feels like a lie. They will still think you are angry though.

I am not an angry person, but you’re still asking, “Why are you so angry?” when I’m smiling and asking about your day.

If I stitched my mouth into a permanent smile, would I still be angry? See, this is precisely what makes me angry, as if I can only be happy and dumb, or angry and mean. Love it.

10. When you write the race poem, apologize afterward, and tell them you momentarily lost your head, that it was make believe.

This is subtle way of kissing their feet through their ears. Smile to make it go down easier, and do not write another race poem for years.

To learn more about this topic, check out:

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Andie Berry is a poet, playwright, and second-year student at Washington University.