*In case you are wondering, the name of this blog is called Engineered Ethics because I am an Electrical Engineer. Though ethics really does not have much to do with engineering, I am happy to infuse my love of words with my love of logic. Also, I plan to always incorporate an original media production into every blog entry as an ode to my technological roots. Enjoy*
The world exists in a three-dimensional realm (excluding the notion of time). As one understands a relative location, there are directional coordinates that correspond to that exact position in space. For example, the x-coordinate signifies an axis moving from left to right, the y-coordinate signifies front to back, and the z-coordinate signifies up and down, respectively. Therefore, any possible location in space can appropriately be pinpointed using these three coordinates. Now, let us approach this coordinate system with knowledge instead of numbers, abstractions rather than absolutions. Let the x-coordinate be the various lengths taken in order to perpetuate the Lie that America has taught its Black children since birth about who they are. And let the y-coordinate be the forward thinking, yet backward reflecting Truth of personal purpose that the Black son or daughter fights so desperately to uncover. Next, let the z-coordinate be the magnitude of the highs and lows of Struggle that the Black soul must endure to wrestle betwixt the Lie and the Truth. Amidst these dogged realities and ravaged dreams, at the point of intersection of these three abstract axes, is the precise location those born Black in America call home.
When someone blatantly lies to you,
regardless of intention, what is the proper course of restitution? One can
argue, ultimately, that the first step to right this wrong is to find out the
truth. So, what if the lie is not blatant – rather, it exists in what is NOT
being said? Does this change the course of action in rectifying the lie? It
should not. Yet, this is the plight of the Black in America. As Du Bois
beautifully articulates this “double consciousness” in The Souls of Black Folk,
the audience is forced to reconcile the reality that to be Black is to be a
problem. The blatant lie is that “despite compromise, war, and struggle, the
Negro is not free (Du Bois, pg. 24).” Notwithstanding all of the luster and
appeal given to this historical event, the Emancipation Proclamation did not
simply spell out freedom. In response to this lie, it is not extremely
difficult to discover the truth. The truth is that America deliberately
replaced the ugly auspices of a physical slavery with systematic emotional and
mental bondage such as sharecropping and anti-suffrage. The concealed lie is
less easily identifiable if one has not first come to the cathartic realization
that his/her whole life has been swaddled in a blanket of fiction. However,
once the truth of this lie has been uncovered, a bare bed of covert facades subtly
wait for deeper investigation. This
unspoken lie is the reality that America had no plan for the day when the Black
human would no longer be enslaved. As much as America tries to make you fit into
the tapestry of being an equal part in the Land of the Free, your very being,
as a Black person, exposes the denial this country is comfortable in. Blacks
were supposed to be the animal that never left the zoo and the experiment that
was never supposed to graduate past beta-testing. It is within the implications
of these truths encapsulated by non-truths, that Du Bois is able to illuminate
the Veil inherent in every Black American.
Though written in excess of a
century ago, Du Bois’ assertion of the Veil is especially poignant and
pragmatic; not because it steers a person to ask if the Veil exists, but
because it points one to the question of why the Veil exists. Why does the Veil exist? It exists because Blacks
were not ever to be citizens of the United States, only property. Property only needs record of when it was
fabricated and how many owned it in its duration. As the property is passed on
from generation to generation, sold, auctioned, or given away, the very life it
lives changes shapes and all its significance is lost in translation. The same
is true for any Black man or woman. Once our beings were hijacked from the rich
soil of our Motherland and our souls were raped of our history in exchange for
slavery in America, our significance was lost in translation. As a result, in
our hungry searching for our stolen identities, we traded our royalty for what
America thought we ought to be. Therefore, the Veil, in a contemporary sense,
indicates the inner battle within a Black person’s soul involving the
contention between Blackness and American-ness. These silent but deafening arguments
contain feelings of being unworthy, unwanted and unloved by the land which kidnapped
and adopted you, yet forced to reconcile your existence despite the hostility
intrinsic to this environment.
The Veil, then, represents a
plethora of things to its Black participants. It can be representative of the
mask we must wear daily as we traverse the world of people who are not also
Black. It can signify an unwritten understanding between Black strangers that
bonds them to a “common consciousness, sprung from common joy and grief (Du
Bois, pg. 41).” Though not stated in Du Bois’ work, one can contend that the
Veil can even surmise itself as a sort of boundary line that keeps us protected
from the evils of a white-washed world. The Veil, while objective in ideology,
takes on a personality that is subjective to its host. The personality it imbibes
is a direct correlation to how you choose to handle your double consciousness.
For example, if you want to accept a more Americanized way of life that is less
visibly congruent with an African identity, then your Veil will encompass the
questions that will help you to navigate an assimilated lifestyle. Conversely,
if you wish to remain as Black as your Blackness will allow, then your Veil will
permit you to address the pride in your heritage. The Veil is not a dead fabric.
It is a living, breathing function of your identity. All things considered, one
must ask oneself how the Veil will impact daily interactions with those who
will never know the feeling of double consciousness. Will the Veil interrupt your
thoughts and actions towards others? How will you use the Veil to interpret
your dealings with others?
The existence of the proverbial Veil
is not to serve as ornamentation. However, to a certain extent, there is a
hermeneutical responsibility that comes along with it. In whatever community
you approach, you must know how you intend to operate within the Veil and how,
if possible, you can venture past the Veil. Namely, consider the Black church.
In the article, “Subversive Joy and Revolutionary Patience in Black
Christianity,” Cornel West affirms that “Black people do not attend churches…to
find God, but rather to share and expand together the rich heritage that have
inherited (West, pg. 437).” In this instance, an inference can be suggested
that the Veil plays a vital role in what drives people within the Black church
to stay in the Black church. Not because the experience has culminated in a
closer relationship with God (though this could be a part of the reason), but
only because of the fellowship gained with those who share common experiences
as Blacks. If this is true, the Veil could be seen as a hindering crutch rather
than a means of communing support. While the Veil still exists, will there ever
be a time when our lens will not have to be appropriated by its context? In
other words, will a Black person ever be able to choose whether or not to wield
the Veil as a means to either protect or preserve him/herself from society?
Arguably, a community of faith should be the obvious choice of a place in which
God’s love supersedes the color-line. So, then the answer should be yes. Black
persons should be able to enjoy worship anywhere and not be confined behind the
Veil. Yet, we know that this is not a fair statement. Just because the
color-line prescribed by Du Bois is Black and White, issues of acceptance in
the faith community are just as gray as they have ever been.
In conclusion, as we internalize and
reflect upon the nature of the Veil, we must ultimately understand its conception
and birth. The Veil was conceived when Black truth had non-consensual intercourse
with an American lie; and, it was born when America tried to give Blacks a life
that was not theirs to give. In the after-birth, or maybe the aftermath, what
was left was a gaping hole – a hole that was missing the true history of our
people.
I appreciate your insight regarding your experience as an African American woman, and of course I understand the concept of the "Veil" and double consciousness. However, I do think that the veil will always be a matter of ornamentation almost like the "A" worn on the chest of Nathaniel Hawthorne's character Hester Prynne that are a symbol of inferiority or a lack of moral integrity. I am not sure it works as a means of protection or as a stigma. I know I am reaching out on a limb here, but I do grapple with the whole idea of Christianity as it applies to black folks because it was used a tool of oppression and in many ways I believe it is still used to keep us in a mode of complacency. It seems that Black Christians are the only ones who believe in loving unconditionally and turning the other cheek. It seems that African American Christians are the only ones who hold onto the ideals of Christianity as a means of comfort while many whites use Christianity as a means of justifying the system of racial oppression as being just.
ReplyDeleteDont' get me wrong I understand very well what Dr. West articulated in his article about the black church,but too often I believe we are too willing to forgive. I know for most people in our community the African American church was a place where people who were considered "nobody" in society held positions of esteem or were held in high esteem by those within the church community. It was a place to be seen as fully human, but my question is has Christianity helped to foster the belief that we are all brothers and sisters regardless of race? I have actually spoken with people who call themselves Christians who believe that race mixing is wrong.
Honestly, I question whether Christianity has a place for African Americans at all. It seems all have their proverbial heaven on earth. Could the very God we've been taught to worship be a part of the system that has oppressed us?
Nicole, you raise some valid concerns. I definitely do think that Christianity has been used in very evil ways with evil intentions to oppress many groups of people. But I do not believe this is the true nature of my God. Because we are addressing a larger community than just the ones we are accustomed to, I understand that I can't just assume everybody has a peachy view of Christianity or any other community of faith. So that is why I tried to pose it in a way that people of different faith walks trying to band together for the greater good of all humanity - yet, I realize that may be a very utopian ideal at best. While I know that many who profess faith in Christianity (or any other belief) have very narrow-minded, racist, or offensive views as it relates to race, I also have seen quite the opposite coming from people of Caucasian descent. I have seen how God has worked through them to show me that there is hope in the community of faith of multi-cultural for inclusion and love to abound.
DeleteChristianity has definitely not been a proponent of equality or the 'brothers and sisters in Christ' idea in totality. Which is why I think this type of dialogue HAS to be staged on many levels. Members of congregations have to be challenged to think about if their all-White or all-Black memberships hold any biases or stereotypical thoughts about their counterparts. Pastors, Bishops, and other leaders of each church affiliation must be trained in cultural/racial/sexual orientation sensitivity. And Church denominations/conferences HAVE to address their stance on each of the ethical issues, instead of skirting it and/or condemning everyone to hell so quickly. Personal and corporate theologies have to be revisited and reconciled in a diverse atmosphere or with a mind for inclusion with the end goal.
And also, just to field your thoughts about the Veil in your first paragraph (sorry lol I didn't realize I skipped over it), I wanted to offer a little bit of a clarification. When I spoke of the Veil serving as a means of protection, I didn't mean this to say we would somehow become oblivious to discrimination or hatred because of it. What I should have said is that often times we keep ourselves confined to our own bubbles of Black friends/family when we leave school or work (which is completely understandable and fair). I think in a sub-conscious way, I like to do this because I am safe within these circles of all-Black women and men. There is that understanding of any foolishness I had to put up with from my counterparts without me having to explain it. There is acceptance. And there is love. I don't have to push myself too far outside of my comfort zone. So, I think that at times our Veils keep us relegated to staying to ourselves at times rather than propelling us to diversify our inner circles.
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