The discussion of whether or not a certain human being is “black enough” is really quite disgusting. There’s nothing more pathetic or sad to me than to see historically disenfranchised people fighting over exactly how entitled one could be to grievance or validation within their own societal subset.
Is George Lopez not “Mexican” enough because he doesn’t climb under a fence to reach his talk show studio? Did Hollywood kill off Marilyn Monroe by pointing out a Scratch-N-Sniff sticker at the bottom of a swimming pool? Did the Teletubbies ever reject potential bretheren for lack of prominent cranial antennae?
Actually, they probably did. Fascist fleecy bastards.
Bernard Hopkins, noted authority on blackness, took umbrage with Redskins quarterback Donovan McNabb because…well, nobody’s really sure.
Said Hopkins, via the Phillynews.com: “He’s got a suntan. That’s all.”[..]
“Why do you think McNabb felt he was betrayed?” Because McNabb is the guy in the house, while everybody else is on the field,” Hopkins said. “He’s the one who got the extra coat. The extra servings. ‘You’re our boy.’ He thought he was one of them.”
“McNabb? Great. Skills? Throw the ball? Great,” Hopkins said. “But there was something missing. Vick? He understands. And T.O. – same cloth.” Via.
Something missing? Because McNabb’s uniform pants weren’t hanging off his ass when he threw 14 touchdowns last season?
It wasn’t like McNabb wasn’t called a n—–efarious individual. In fact, he was called the opposite, which, I guess, is supposed to be worse? This may be apples and oranges here; the former suggests relegation to a primitive archetype while the latter seemingly denounces one’s inclusion from it. Does one require possession of blackness to claim the centuries-old estate of hardship, discrimination and inhumanity? Hopkins may as well have asked to see McNabb’s birth certificate.
I’ve been told, both explicitly and otherwise, that a person never understand this because I’m pigmentally challenged. In a progressive culture hellbent on scrubbing out most of society’s archaic mores and taboos, the idea of blackness remains. And occasionally pulsates through the discourse like bass from a subwoofer in the car next to yours at a red light. Oh, hello there, disparaging racial commentary. Would you mind turning your fucking music down?
But taken from a different angle, the renown fighter might actually be onto something. McNabb has left the old __ of what blackness was perceived to be, and, if you’ll permit the expression, busted a serious cap in its ass. Indeed, we don’t think of Donovan McNabb as a black quarterback, but as a shitty quarterback. Even if his achievements on the field haven’t been worth celebrating, maybe his mere presence there, even now, should be.