New Rules: Navigating Black Spaces in Changing Times

Twenty-one years ago, I was interviewed for a cover story in the late, great Black Issues Book Review magazine, with fellow Mixed-Black authors Walter Mosley, Staceyann Chin, and Mat Johnson. The article, by Elizabeth Atkins, explored how we identified on the heels of the then brand-new Census category that made history by including a way for Mixed folks to designate themselves. That’s me in the upper left corner.

Times change, and with them the ways in which some of us move through once-familiar spaces. Lately, I’ve been challenged with how to respond to the new dynamic of Mixed-Black folks being gatekept out of some Black spaces.

My ancestry includes African American, Jewish, and Blackfoot – Sioux Indigenous Native American. I’m light-skinned with high-contrast coloring, hair that grows down instead of up, and facial features that in most spaces are racially and ethnically ambiguous.

I have always known my Mix. I have always identified as Black American. And life has taught me how my background and appearance are likely to be received in Black spaces.

I was shaped by popular notions of presumptive Blackness from the Civil Rights and Black Power movements. As a Boomer, I came up when Jim Crow was law, interracial marriages were banned in 16 states, Blackfolks didn’t have full voting rights, and calling oneself Black instead of Colored or Negro was a radical act of pride and resistance.

I integrated white public schools, and two state colleges. Much of my professional career has—by choice—been grounded in Black American causes, institutions, and organizations.

My definition and application of Blackness never excluded Mixedness. Nobody told me I “had” to align myself with the community and culture that surrounded and nurtured me. I was aware of the One-Drop rule, but rather than impacting my personal sense of self, it simply framed how historical and political Blackness functioned in a racist world. My experience of Blackness included the “and” that embraced folks like me without apparent question.

As a result, I didn’t have to pause when considering whether to enter Black spaces.

Until now.

The other day I received a digital invitation to an online event celebrating Black wonderfulness. Normally, I would have RSVP’d yes without any hesitation. But times have changed.

So, I did a new thing. I wrote:  

I’d like to inquire about the specifics of your audience in this affinity space. I’m asking because I’m Mixed Black. As you might know, there is an increase in some people and groups gatekeeping Mixed-Black folks out of spaces designated as Black. I’ve always been Black identified and welcomed into Black spaces. But times change so I am inquiring about the boundaries of inclusion for events defined as Black. Rather than presume, I like to check beforehand, knowing that my presence can be triggering, and that the sacredness of affinity spaces must be clarified and honored. The days of presumption are over! Thank you for considering my question.

Why did I do that?

These days, when more people are super-conscious about the accuracy and specificity of language around diverse types of identities—racial, ethnic, religious, gender, sexual, etc.—we are all on a learning curve. And many groups are becoming more proactive and unapologetic about identifying affinity zones.

That can sometimes look like specific Black people and groups announcing—explicitly or implicitly—that Mixed-Black folks are not welcome.

I won’t lie--when I first heard of this new gatekeeping dynamic in some online Mixed groups, I clapped back. The idea of not being included or welcomed into Black spaces was simply incomprehensible. Couldn’t wrap my brain around it. My reflexive response, grounded in a lifetime of inclusive Blackness, was a cryptic, “I wish a fool would try to tell me that.”

However.

As the gatekeeping of Mixed folks has grown in the last couple of years, I recognized a growing trend. Yeah, I felt a kind of way, but my values required that I get over myself and learn new ways of moving through a changing world.

I’ve had to check myself. Try on new behaviors. And seriously reconsider how I respond to the many professional and social opportunities to enter my work or my presence into Black-defined spaces.

I start by scrutinizing the descriptions extra-carefully. If the language specifies “Black” or “Black only,” without additional qualifiers or a close personal connection to the organizers, I might inquire as I did recently. Or I might simply back off. When the description includes “BIPOC,” “People of Color, “Women of Color,” etc., I might feel more comfortable moving forward. And yes, I still might ask.

But analyzing descriptive language isn’t enough. Last year, I checked with my fellow Mixed Auntie Mane, who helps me understand these dynamics in the Gen X, Millennial, and Gen Z communities. Like me, she is Mixed Black, light-skinned, ambiguous-looking, and grew up Black-identified. And we’d been discussing this gatekeeping dynamic for a while, wondering how to navigate it. She shared how she inquires in a way that specifies who she is to show respect and solidarity.

As a fan of informed consent, offering a factual “full disclosure” felt right to me. Thus, my question to the recent invitation to celebration Black wonderfulness. They didn’t get back to me right away. During the pause, I had time to ponder the value of safe affinity spaces for all groups of people. And I remembered that sometimes I want Mixed-race spaces to be just that—and not include Monoracial folks. Every group deserves to have “just us” spaces.

Then came the response to my inquiry: “Yes, you are welcome to attend.”

I accepted the invitation.

I appreciated their response but mainly, I felt relieved that they had taken my query seriously. Yes, sending them that question felt clumsy. I worried that they’d see it as tacky. But to me, it also felt like love, respect, and consideration. Like not taking things for granted. Like giving folks an opportunity to clarify their boundaries without having to explain, defend, or justify their choices.

The trend of affinity-defining descriptors for gatherings is growing. A friend recently invited me to a meditation group for “Black-identified people.” A monoracial Black man in the group worried that the term would open the door to some Rachel Dolezal-types. My friend explained that for this event, the designation required some actual African Diasporic ancestry. I appreciated the carefully crafted terminology to make the guidelines clear. It provided answers without the questions needing to be asked.

These new developments don’t change how I view myself.

But I recognize the changes in identity-related language and spaces. I see the need to move beyond my own experiences and presumptions to adopt behaviors more in harmony with the times.

Just as we now specify our pronouns and tweak identity-related terminology, I applaud the sometimes confusing but ever-evolving ways in which we can interact with growing humility and the hope of affinity.

While all of this is still awkward and unfamiliar, I recognize the urgency of asking rather than falling back on assumptions that worked before but must be upgraded for new realities. I am learning the value of replacing old habits with fresh ones that honor everyone’s truths in specific and accurate ways. I am understanding how to be up front in a way that makes it easy for others to clarify their definitions and boundaries.

None of this is easy or comfortable for me. But it’s teaching me how the quest for justice requires “just us” spaces sometimes. And that all of us must keep growing into the change we say we want to see.