Black but not quite
Macon Dead the third, or better known as Milkman has had a life most people of color in his city would kill for. With a grandfather who people respect even in death and a father well known in the community for being a main source of wealth among them, have unintentionally separated Milkman from the rest of the African americans around him. Milkman's friend Guitar has made it his job to remind him how different the two of them are and how different he is from their people on a multitude of occasions. Guitar asks Milkman what he would do if their city randomly became another version of Montgomery Alabama, to which he responds jokingly with "buy a plane ticket" (Morison 104) this only angers Guitar and he bitterly responds with "No. A man that can't live there. If things ever got tough you'd melt." (Morrison 104). To add some background at this time Montgomery Alabama was basically the racist capital of the world, and if you were anything besides a wealthy caucasian then you wouldn't want to be caught dead or alive there.
This part spoke to me because I feel like I can relate with Milkman on this. For what seems like my entire life i've heard "you dont act black enough" or "you're the whitest black guy ever", to which id respond with "what do you mean black enough?".The questions themselves aren't what bothered me so much as the fact that other black people would tell me this as well, is not being "black enough" refusing to embody the vulgar behavior or the criminal like tendencies we see on the internet or news? Or is it having more white friends then black, and for that reason alone I must be betraying our culture? This has been nipping at me for a while because I feel so torn, on one hand i'm not black enough to fit in with my people and on the other, i'm too black to fit in with my friends.
Even my younger cousins make it a point to remind me that i'm either too soft or too pampered and for those reasons I could never truly relate to them. The hardest part is that they were right, I'll never really be able to relate to them or what they have to do because no matter what happens i'll still be that one cousin who lives just a few miles from Detroit, but a lightyear away from his people. At this point in my life i've learned to accept it but the older I get I.e. the taller and darker I get, the more I realize it doesn't matter if i'm too black or not enough because the world wont stop for a background check before making assumptions. Not unlike when Milkman and Guitar were pulled over the night of their burglary just for being black (this was before the cop saw the bag of rocks and human remains) although actually having incriminating items in their car, the policeman didn't see the bag he saw their skin. At that point it didn't matter what Milkman's last name was or the money in his wallet, but his skin... the final deciding factor that draws the line in the sand and divides him from the white community but ironically, finally equalizes him with his people.
Yours truly
-Connor
This part spoke to me because I feel like I can relate with Milkman on this. For what seems like my entire life i've heard "you dont act black enough" or "you're the whitest black guy ever", to which id respond with "what do you mean black enough?".The questions themselves aren't what bothered me so much as the fact that other black people would tell me this as well, is not being "black enough" refusing to embody the vulgar behavior or the criminal like tendencies we see on the internet or news? Or is it having more white friends then black, and for that reason alone I must be betraying our culture? This has been nipping at me for a while because I feel so torn, on one hand i'm not black enough to fit in with my people and on the other, i'm too black to fit in with my friends.
Even my younger cousins make it a point to remind me that i'm either too soft or too pampered and for those reasons I could never truly relate to them. The hardest part is that they were right, I'll never really be able to relate to them or what they have to do because no matter what happens i'll still be that one cousin who lives just a few miles from Detroit, but a lightyear away from his people. At this point in my life i've learned to accept it but the older I get I.e. the taller and darker I get, the more I realize it doesn't matter if i'm too black or not enough because the world wont stop for a background check before making assumptions. Not unlike when Milkman and Guitar were pulled over the night of their burglary just for being black (this was before the cop saw the bag of rocks and human remains) although actually having incriminating items in their car, the policeman didn't see the bag he saw their skin. At that point it didn't matter what Milkman's last name was or the money in his wallet, but his skin... the final deciding factor that draws the line in the sand and divides him from the white community but ironically, finally equalizes him with his people.
Yours truly
-Connor
Connor, I think it's amazing how you could relate your own experiences to Milkman in this book, as there's always a part of everyone that seems distant from the people closest to them. While it's not as personal as your experience, I have relatives in India that disdain me because I seem so rich and proper, and I seem as though I'm good for them since I'm the "American boy". Anyway, great parallels between your story and the actual novel!
ReplyDeleteThis post is so good Connor, I love how clearly and thoughtfully you were able to demonstrate the connections you share with Milkman. The writing was beautiful, and I get where you're coming from--kinda like Thejas said, literally the other day I was told "I'm not even Asian because I'm so white." People suck, but at least your connections have resulted in a great post.
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