Black Baby Jesus
A news story on I've seen a few times since Friday is that the Mall of America hired the first Black Santa since their opening decades ago. For some reason, I like to torture myself, so I read the comments on the articles, and found that most people basically had the same reaction: "so what?"
So what? So what??
I'll tell you what.
Growing up, let me tell you how many Black Santas I ever saw at the mall, on a commercial, in print, or at a party: ONE. Yes, that's right. One. One Black Santa.
Now, don't get me wrong. As I got older, my mom ended up buying a"Milk/Cookies for Santa" plate and mug set for us to put out on Christmas Eve. She went out and bought Black Santas to put around the house and little Black Christmas angels and even a Black nativity scene, but outside of our house, there was absolutely NO Black Christmas anything. No elves, no Santa, no nothing.
So why does this matter?
To a little Black girl, this says that "none of this was meant for you." Harsh, right? A little too extreme for you, maybe? Maybe. But, hear me out. Representation and what we see around us helps paint the picture of how we see ourselves in our minds as well. When a little girl looks at the TV and sees a heroine, they can look at her and say, "I want to be like that when I grow up." When they see a female scientist, they can take that to heart and say, "that woman is a scientist. That means I can be one, too." When they learn about people like Susan B Anthony and Amelia Earhart
and so many other women who made a difference, they can remember this and say, "I can make a difference, too."
But, when there is no positive representation--no female scientists, no female pilots, no female engineers--that tells girls that those activities, those fields, those identities are strictly for men. Only men are capable of doing X, Y or Z. That is not meant for me.
The same can be applied to a little Black girl who doesn't see any Black women in the media doing positive things. When a little Black girl looks at the media and sees only White women and their accomplishments, she may think, "that wasn't meant for me. I can't do that." When a little Black girl sees sparkly hair clips and accessories on TV being worn by other White little girls, she may think, "that wasn't meant for me. I can't use that." When she goes to the store and sees no Black baby dolls, finds no books about little Black girls, finds no movies about little Black girls, she will take to heart that "none of this was meant for me."
Take it from a big Black girl who used to be that little Black girl. There were no dolls with naturally curly, afro hair and dark skin, which lead me to believe that my natural hair--the hair that NATURALLY grows from my scalp, the hair I was given at birth by God--was not beautiful and not desirable. There were not many positive portrayals of little Black girls in movies or on TV when I was little, and for decades, I felt to my very core that I was not pretty. I had no Black role models growing up. None. Male or female. Since there is no Black Christmas anything, mistaken teachers told me that Kwanzaa was the way that African Americans celebrated Christmas--and I believed it, because neither of us knew any better. None of my peers had ever seen a Black person speak Chinese, so when I decided I wanted to learn some Mandarin, a peer asked me, "why? You're Black you don't need to speak Chinese."
For many of my peers, I was one of the few Black people they knew. I've been asked why Black girls don't have long hair. I've been told that I wasn't really Black since I didn't act like the poorly represented Black people they watched on TV. I was told "talked White," as though speaking proper English is not something any or everyone is capable of. Under representation is taken to heart. It is subliminal messages that say, "this is not for you. You cannot do this.You cannot be this. You cannot use this." Your skin color becomes some sort of line, limit or border that dictates what you can and cannot do and be, and it didn't start with me.
Let's go back to the baby dolls for a moment. As I got older, there were more options for little Black baby dolls--but when my mom was a little girl, the options were slim to none. Black baby dolls were all butt ugly--and when I say butt ugly, I mean it. They honestly looked like monkeys, or at the very least, not human.
But the White baby dolls were beautiful with lovely dresses and nice hair. When little Black girls grow up seeing that, it tells them, "Black babies are not beautiful. Black is not beautiful. I am not beautiful." Luckily, my mom got to have a Tara Doll when she was little. The Tara Doll was the first and one of the only pretty Black baby dolls around...the only one. Even now that little Black girls had something, the fact that the option was only the Tara Doll, what does that say?
"Some Black is beautiful, but not all--most of it is not beautiful."
Today, this problem of under representation is getting much better. Today, we have a Black Disney princess to show little Black girls that they, too, can be princesses, and that they can be beautiful with their Black skin and features. There are Black baby dolls that celebrate the beauty of little girls with dark skin and curls. We have athletes like Gabby Douglas and Simone Biles showing little Black girls that gymnastics, the Olympics, and greatness is for me. There are picture books appreciating the beautiful afro puffs, braids and bantu knots that little Black girls wear with pride. We have cartoons like Doc McStuffins showing little girls that they can be kind, caring, and doctors! I'll never forget when I watched the movie Home, where Rihanna voices a little girl named Gratuity Tucci, that gets separated from her mother. In the movie, the mother exclaims, "have you seen my daughter? She has these big, green eyes, and the most beautiful brown skin." For twenty one years, I had NEVER in a children's cartoon heard the statement "brown is beautiful."
Never. Think about that.
So, for me, Black Santa is not a "so what." Black Santa represents me, my family, my friends, and my community. Even if you don't celebrate Christmas, having you represented in the mainstream --something that says, "this is for you!" or "this can be for you!" is never a "so what."
Never. Think about that.
Happy Holidays and Merry Christmas,
Reina
