But I was just kidding around, though. The table in the breakroom is stacked to the rafters with back issues of Forbes, Money, and Golf, because almost everyone on the floor is in the target demographic for those publications. I don’t know why it would be so un-funny for me to say, “Hey, I’m going to bring in an Essence, just to break up the monotony.” OK, maybe it isn’t that funny.
But it certainly didn’t warrant a response like, “I don’t read Essence. I’m not your average black woman.”
I hear something like that as, “Why are you reminding everyone you’re black, monstro?”
I agree it would have been weird if I had been white and I was saying that just to her, but I was speaking to a room full of people.
That seems like a reasonable interpretation to me. My reading of her motivations and deeper meaning is different from yours, though. I don’t think she’s trying to distance herself from her blackness; I think she’s trying to distance her from yet another black stereotype–the notion that black people make a big thing out of their blackness, buying “black” versions of mainstream things simply because those things are black or appending the word black to every damn thing they’re involved with no matter how little it has to do with race. In other words, the notion that black people define themselves first and foremost by their blackness.
And yeah, from the description you give, Essence sounds rather like Redbook or Woman’s Day. Except, you know, for black people. You can see how someone could interpret that as support for the stereotype I’m talking about.
Can I get some detail and context on “trifling” in this usage? The only time I’ve ever run into something trifling, it’s been a detail. A trifling detail - one that can be thrown out with no one noticing, or something someone’s making a mountain out of a molehill for. I know a trifle can be a type of dessert, and something can be dismissed as “a mere trifle”. You know, I honestly think I’ve only ever read the word in novels or heard it in dialogue. I’ve just never heard it applied to a person.
It means essentially the same thing in this usage. Something that is negligible because it contributes nothing or next to nothing. A trifling or no 'count (short for “of no account”) person is someone who adds little or nothing to their family/community/society. It’s often shorthand for "won’t work a job or take care of his/her kids.
If this is what is going on with her, it’s still unhealthy that she would be walking through life with this particular hangup. People, regardless of their color, can enjoy “black” things without it being a political statement. Stuff is just stuff. You can like hip hop and Essence without being Marcus Garvey.
It’s funny you say this though, because as a kid, I went through a short-lived phase of me wanting to downplay my affiliation with black things. I prided myself on liking a lot of different music, not just R&B and rap. I congratulated myself on my utter lack of sophistication when it came to urban pop culture. Obviously this meant I wasn’t like “them”, so that made me special and awesome. Why couldn’t all black people be like me?
Fortunately, I eventually I grew out of this mentality. Why? It eventually dawned on me that it was me who was stereotyping other black people with this nonsense. Other black people were as eclectic as I was, and it was ignorance that led me to think otherwise. When monstro wrote about how coworker says she’s not the “average black woman”, I get the sense that the stereotype she’s distancing herself from is one that she has internalized about black people in general.
I’d bet that it’s combination of both: she has close ties to black people who engage in stereotypical “hood” behavior, but she hasn’t been around a lot of black people from diverse backgrounds, with interests like her own. So her idea of what consitutes the “average black woman” is heavily skewed towards the lower socioeconomic strata of Richmond, VA. She needs to get out more, in other words.
I met one, an ex-lover. From Spain, but in his mind, the superior race were the Northern Europeans (Scandinavians and Germans). Everybody else couldn’t be as good (intellectually, at least) as them. Except maybe the Indians. Now, keep in mind he’s supposed to be an engineer. Also, he’s not descended from Scandinavians or Germans.
I’ve erased most of our conversations and arguments and all, but what I remember most was the weirdest compliment he gave me. Keep in mind, I’m a short Caribbean mutt. While people this side of the Atlantic may confuse me with European, the Europeans I’ve met have seldom failed to recognize me as a foreigner. As part of my mix I do have German ancestry (that got very very diluted). I mentioned that in passing to him. His reply? He was trying to find something in me or my physical appearance or myself that would be a clear mark of that German ancestry… because that was good. It was almost comical if it didn’t make me sad.
He did say a lot of other stuff (and had a lot of other craziness going on), but that part is what I remember the most. He also did the usual denigrating of all Latin Americans and Spaniards, as we were all inferior to the Northern Europeans.
Thanks for the explanation on “triflin’”. Makes perfect sense.
I love the sound and rhythm of AAVE, especially compared to Midwestern American English dialect. To me, it conveys a much greater depth of context, attitude, and complexity.
I worked at a school with a nearly 99% African-American student body, and the majority of the teachers were Black. At one point, I consulted with one of the other teachers about a student we had in common. The girl was driving me insane. I, literally, had to spend the entire class within arm’s reach of her, because otherwise, she was starting fights, throwing things, vandalizing school property, et cetera. When I finished describing the girl’s behavior, I asked, “am I missing something?”
The other teacher raised an eyebrow at me, gave me that “you poor, sweet thing” expression I’ve only ever seen a Black woman above the age of 30 pull off, and said, “Oh, honey, she crazy.”
Oh.
It made perfect sense. She crazy. Yes, she damn well was crazy, but it just didn’t click until my colleague told me in those words.