{shortcode-0ac995021eb57424619b19aef8af07db149ad4a8}

Woah now, white folk, don’t get defensive too quickly — it’s not about you. Actually, everyone else, that’s really my whole point here — it’s not about them.

One morning I was telling my father that I had been accepted to write this very column, “African, American,” about matters regarding my mixed identity as a black African and American. He shared his congratulations, then lovingly and concernedly shared a warning along with a Toni Morrison quote about racism. A warning to not “get too trapped into black and white,” because, as Morrison says, “the very serious function of racism ... is distraction” from doing meaningful tasks — forcing you to constantly be proving yourself, your culture, your history to somebody else.

My father’s concern — while I graciously appreciate its intentions — caught me off guard, purely because I had not even thought of that. My column was never going to be about “black and white” issues. My column was going to be about and for me, black people, and black issues, though anyone else’s readership and commentary is obviously welcome. In fact, if you look at the style in which I write my other pieces, you will see that they are always addressed to “we”, “us”, and “our”, that is, black people. This piece, itself, is directed at the entire non-white population. I am not concerned with the conflict here. Here, I am concerned about us. Us. And I think that needs to be all of our central focus more often.

I thought of — on that morning I spoke to my father — a little preamble Nina Simone gave in a recording of her song about Lorraine Hansberry, “To Be Young Gifted and Black.” In it, she says to a presumably largely white audience, “now, [the song] is not addressed primarily to white people, though it does not put you down in any way … it simply ignores you.” After the crowd laughs, Nina explained her reasoning: “[her] people need all the inspiration and love that they can get.” Indeed, Nina, they certainly did then, and they certainly still do now.

So let us, then, ignore white people. I do not mean that in a foolish literal sense in our day-to-day lives in which we just walk past white people like they don’t exist — even as obscenely hilarious as it would be to me if this piece could possibly inspire that. No, I mean let us take more time to deal with ourselves, for ourselves.

Not to abandon the discussion around interracial or intercultural conflicts entirely. That has its place and is important. Rather, to have more conversations, more writing, more art, more songs, more politics, more culture not about the conflict. More culture that’s not addressed to ourselves in the context of what white people are doing to us. More culture that is not speaking about the pain white people have previously caused us. More culture that, as Nina would have it, is not addressed to white people, that doesn’t put them down either ... that simply ignores them.

In many ways, it is exactly what Morrison was suggesting we do. Not explaining ourselves, our histories, and our cultures to anyone else but creating cultures, creating histories, and creating ourselves — for ourselves and no one else. In doing this we should trust that all of that shall be explained to everyone else naturally. As I am confident it will be. Instead of trying to get our culture through to people, if we truly invest ourselves in ourselves, people will want to get themselves through our cultures.

Nelson Makamo, a South African contemporary artist, makes his artwork to capture the hope, beauty, and wisdom of African peoples — not to prove it to anyone else. And people from around the world have flocked to engage with those pieces of culture. Toni Morrison, herself, was familiar with the effect that the white gaze had on black people’s writing. And so she wrote without consideration of it. And now those are pieces of a culture that people want to engage with for their own enrichment.

I ask you, are we free from the powers of white supremacy if we cannot even speak as black people about black people, or if any other people can’t speak about themselves, without invoking white people? I would argue no.

You may, in turn, ask me: Marcus, so how can we not invoke white people in our conversations while we are still under the reins of white supremacy? To that, my answer is simple. We just do. I am not willing to wait for the ever-so historically gracious hand of white supremacy to ease its death grip on my throat before I start speaking directly with my fellow black people, and you shouldn’t be either. If I am only willing to start those conversations on the timeline that the powers of white supremacy are okay with, I have then, and only then, let white supremacy win.

So do not stress, dad, and rest easy, Toni. I am not getting trapped or distracted by any black and white conflict. I am here to pour my love into my peoples and hopefully inspire other people to do the same. Accordingly, I shall continue to ‘ignore’ white people and address this column to my people. And I implore you, in whatever way, to start ignoring too.

Marcus B. Montague-Mfuni ’23, a Crimson Editorial editor, lives in Pennypacker Hall. His column appears on alternate Wednesdays.