With the release of Lena Waithe’s Queen & Slim, the phrase “Black people are not a monolith” seemed to gain new life. This wasn’t the first time I’ve seen this argument and I’m sure it won’t be my last time either, but something about this sentiment felt different for me.
I began tracking patterns of the Black people exclaiming “Black people are not a monolith” that I’m not sure I ever noticed. People seemed to say this only in reference to the hood/ghetto aspects of the film. That’s when it dawned on me: The Black folks asserting this notion were typically respectable and/or “exceptional” in a lot of ways.
What I was feeling was likely internalized anti-Blackness and disdain for a certain type of Black people who are not viewed as respectable and/or exceptional—the Black people who are read as hood/ghetto.
I grew up in the hood in North Carolina. I didn’t recognize where I lived as the “ghetto” initially until my immediate family and I left it, and then even more when I went to college. In college, there were some Black people whom I considered friends who would joke about the way I talked or how I carried myself. From time to time, they would casually remind me that we weren’t the same. I was just a ghetto girl who got lucky—who wouldn’t be there without affirmative action.
These people would never say things like this to me unless we had a disagreement or they wanted to turn others against me. They weren’t really my friends, and they used times we were upset with each other to express their true disdain for my disposition. They were shaming me because I wasn’t viewed as a respectable/exceptional Black person like they were. White people didn’t regard me as good, proper or correct, and their concept of respectability was birthed out of whiteness and white supremacy.
Today, I have both a Bachelor’s and a Master’s degree, a full-time job with benefits, and I’m well-traveled. On paper (and sometimes in person), I check most of the boxes for being a respectable/exceptional Black person in America. These boxes give me access to power and advantage over those who don’t have access. I am hyper-aware of all the hard work I put into getting where I am, how I navigated various -isms, but I also know that being in the position I am in now doesn’t come without critique.
In college, I absorbed the idea that hood/ghetto Black people get in the way of success, even though I’d never say those things unless I had a disagreement with someone who was even less respectable than me or wanted to turn others against them. I learned that I should be doing everything in my power to become a Black person who was not like those Black people, despite where I had come from. Today, I realize how easy it is for me in my current class status to fall into this trap and blame Black people for institutional/structural racism we experience, so I am always alert for when and where that trap might spring next.
With Blackness, Black culture, and Black people always being up for debate (especially on social media), there are many recognizable patterns of disguised anti-(hood/ghetto)Blackness. Someone will bring up how if Black people choose to name their children something “ghetto” or use their own “ghetto” name, it’s their own fault if they are not accepted by white people and white institutions, and it will do nothing but continue to harm them and keep them from being successful. I’ve seen this same sentiment happen with AAVE/slang use, hairstyles (particularly locs), fashion, you name it. The conclusion is always that hood/ghetto ways of doing and being should be avoided, and one should work to separate themselves from it by actively seeking non-hood/ghetto people and things.
Respectable/exceptional Black people tend to lead these discussions and will always find a way to show how they are a different kind of Black person. They take pains to express how they enjoy non-Black (read: non-hood/ghetto) things. They take pride in naming that they love rock/alternative music, watching anime, reading comic books, speaking “proper English,” because they believe that’s what makes them better/different than hood/ghetto Black people. And any time there’s a dialogue about hood/ghetto Black people doing something “wrong” in society, you can almost always find a respectable/exceptional Black person to say how “it isn’t all of [us]” because “Black people are not a monolith.”
Although “Black people are not a monolith” being a tool of respectability politics makes perfect sense to me now, it took me a while to see this assertion for what it was. Part of the reason I wasn’t able to explicitly make this connection was because of the space I now occupy as a “successful” Black person who still feels pressure to shame/hide ghetto/hood Black people and ways of doing/being, even while I fight for hood/ghetto Blackness to take up space.
What is the purpose of consistently proclaiming what ‘type’ of Black we are? If doing this is a negotiation for the purposes of earning approval/praise and getting seats at tables with power, it can be morally corrupting. Having to (un)intentionally separate myself from the hood/ghetto marker means positioning myself above hood/ghetto Black things and people. It’s always at their expense. We need to be more honest and sit in the fact that the more we chase respectability and exceptionalism, the more harm it can cause towards the people who look like us but don’t “act” like us.
When it’s time to start fashion trends, “introduce” slang words/AAVE into the mainstream or gain followers on TikTok, hood/ghetto Black people are the blueprints. People mine content from them because they are funny, innovative, stylish, brave, and overall just a beautiful group of people. Despite this, Black people from or living in the hood/ghetto continue to be viewed as unintelligent, deficient, ugly, poor, disposable, and undeserving of anything good or free, even if that freedom is their own dignity.
Being raised/living in the hood/ghetto is not the only Black experience, and the stereotypes associated with this experience can be damaging. However, it tends to be the only Black experience that is profited off of while simultaneously shamed and belittled. Whenever media that centers Black people is created and released, you can count on debates ensuing about whether it really relates to the Black experience. Regardless of the merits of the film, Queen & Slim showed a specific Black experience and some of us immediately went to saying how it wasn’t the Black experience because Black people aren’t a monolith.
If the only time “Black people are not a monolith” comes out of our mouths is when we are trying to bolster our respectable/exceptional selves or separate ourselves from hood/ghetto views and concepts of Black people, then we might be in danger of really becoming a monolith—of Black people with so much internalized anti-Blackness that we refuse to acknowledge those who share our struggle.
I am in no way saying that Black people are a monolith. We have varying cultures, ideas, beliefs, etc. What I am saying is that we should be careful about when we feel the need to claim that and why. We should be more conscious of the instances when we are expressing (internalized) anti-Black (hood/ghetto) sentiments because we are being pressured to do so from many sides.
To be for the liberation of Black people is to be for the liberation of all Black people—no matter where they grew up, currently live, or act. I’m optimistic for more in our community to not only acknowledge this but to someday use it to come back to our homes within one another—within Blackness.
Suggested Readings:
Ashleigh Shackelford, “Identity Politics: Separating Yourself from Blackness”, Ashlaighshackelford.com, 2016
Brittney Cooper, Eloquent Rage, 2018
Myles E. Johnson, “Beyoncé and the End of Respectability Politics“, New York Times, 2018
Tynesha is a strong-willed higher education professional in the DMV with a passion for social justice. Born and raised in North Carolina, Tynesha is true to southern roots. Tynesha has a B.S. in Human Development and a Master of Education. Tynesha’s interests include watching documentaries, listening to podcasts, singing, painting, traveling, writing, and making everything about race.
