1. 10/2/2015 The Mirror | From an average black girl
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F E B R U A R Y 06, 2015
From an average black girl
by C H A N I QU A C R OOK
Mirror staffer discusses common racial stereotypes
Chaniqua Crook
I’m honored and excited to kick off the first in a series of
unique perspectives to celebrate Black History Month.
In FebruaryThe Mirror will present four pieces at a
time when race relations in America are at the forefront
of national conversations. We hope that the words
shared on this page in editions to come will give readers
a deeper understanding of the black perspective.
I moved to Springfield from Oklahoma City two years
ago and since then, I have become much more aware of
my blackness. After a few months of being in a place
where black people only make up 4.1% of the population, I found myself getting excited just to see
other people of color. I even had my first real run­in with racism. Still, some of the questions that
people ask me and the things that people say to me, as a black woman have not changed at all. Here
are some of those things that I humbly request for people to stop asking.
It does not comfort me to know that I exceeded your expectations. This first one is not a
question, but this section is likely the most important part of this article. If you take nothing else
from it, please just remember these words: it is not rare to meet an intelligent black person. I can’t
count the instances that I’ve started a new job or gone to a new school and someone said something
like this: “When I saw your name on the schedule, I thought you were going to be
loud/mean/ghetto/crazy/dumb! But you’re not, you’re different. You’re like me.” Each time this
“hilarious” anecdote is told to me by some smiling white manager/boss/peer of mine, I cringe. I do
my best to laugh with them, but I don’t find it hilarious that someone would judge me harshly based
on my name alone.
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What I do find funny are people who are ignorant enough to think that my name or my skin color
defines me. At the same time, I get it. Saying things like, “You’re just like me,” is some people’s way of
saying that they accept me, but I don’t need special acceptance. If you’re racist, by all means,
continue to be racist and if you’re not, good for you. I don’t care what your personal preferences are
because I’m not seeking your approval, especially when it comes to things I can’t change. Bottom
Line: I’m not a golden goose, I’m just a person who knows how to talk and behave like the American
I am. Please don’t vent to me about your stereotypical thoughts because I don’t care.
Why do you talk so white? I’m not talking white, I’m just talking. While many terms like “bae”
have been made popular by black performers and online influencers, these colloquialisms are not
exclusive to the black community–just like speaking properly isn’t the property of white America. I
speak properly because I was taught to say words the way that they are written. While “talking white”
is something I usually hear from black people, I’d like to take this time to ask everyone not to use race
to define how people speak.
Can I touch your hair? Yes, you can touch it–with permission–but don’t ask me if its real. First,
it’s important that I clear the air and say that extensions are the same thing as weave and white
people wear weave too. As a matter of fact, women and men of all colors wear weave. It is true that
weave is very popular among black women who want to change the way that their hair looks. Most do
it for length, others for color or volume and still others for a chance to do something different. Weave
is not always because we can’t, it’s often because we want to and if it’s because someone can’t, that’s
their business.
Now that that’s been cleared up, consider this: You are invited to a Golden Globes after party and you
run into Meryl Streep. You notice that her hair looks a little different. Do you ask her if her hair is
real? It’s likely that you wouldn’t because that would be rude. The same applies to me. When I’m at
work, at least once every few weeks someone asks if my hair is real. For the record, it is real and the
last time I wore weave, I was 9­years­old and rocking a big set of crochet braids for the
utility. Bottom Line: It’s okay to be curious. By all means, ask me about my routine, sure you can
touch it (with permission), but don’t ask me if it’s real. P.S. I don’t wash my hair every day and it is
not gross.
Do you prefer to be called African American? No, I identify as black. This varies from person
to person, but I do not identify as an African American. Some people are shocked when I make this
proclamation, but to me, it’s the same as asking any sixth generation white person if they’re British.
Chances are, they don’t even really know and if they do, they still don’t identify culturally with Great
Britain. I have one living relative that is African. Her name is Alice, my 96­year­old great­
grandmother who has never been to Africa. Her children are all of mixed race and vary from the
lightest of skins to the deep ebony that Alice herself sports. Beyond that, every person in my family is
a mix of all sorts of races. On top of that, I have no cultural ties to Africa. Black culture is primarily
the same as white American culture and the few differences generally derive from our slaved

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ancestors who were American.
That is not to say that I have something against African culture, but it’s a very different thing to be
African than it is to be a fourth generation (or so) black American. Sometimes I wish I had that close
tie to a country other than America, but I don’t. None of that tradition is in my household and it
never will be, unless I marry someone who has those close cultural ties to Africa. To me, it makes
more sense to call us all black, but that’s just a personal preference.Bottom Line: Black people
didn’t really decide that it was more politically correct to refer to us as African Americans and being
called “black” does not have the same connotations as being called “colored” or other unsavory terms.
Choose whichever you like, neither is offensive.
What I’ve touched on above has just scratched the surface of the black experience, but hopefully
these words will guide you to treat your black peers with the respect they deserve. Black History
Month is a time to celebrate the accomplishments of black Americans whose innovations and
achievements have been ignored by mainstream text books and news. It’s a time to bridge the gap
between us and our fellow Americans by having conversations that will inspire change in the way that
we perceive each other. It’s impossible to undo the past and it’s hard to move on from that. The fact
that I’m writing this article is evidence that change is still needed, not just because inequality is still
prevalent, but because we still don’t understand each other.