question I will need to dissect with
both the precision of a surgeon and the
carelessness of a drunk both I approach
it with caution not wanting to offend
but I crave the answer to the question I
ask with reservation am i black because
of the color of my skin or the practice
of my people our students faces call
safe organized for my safety marketed to
my desire for safety only to feel
apologetically distant I’ve stared in
the face of the white person sitting
next to the black person in a black
space and I still see recognizable
discomfort are my ancestors in graves
still tormented by the struggles that
exist are they okay with me living off
their legacy without creating a legacy
of my own should I bear the scar of
every black man I bear the scar the
scars of every black man I was taught by
the church public figures and teachers
in academic institutions to think that
white oppression was a fallacy that
black people used slavery as a crutch to
validate or anger I was taught to think
that my blackness was legitimate only
when approved by whiteness taught so
even by those who looked like me the
black man who counted his coins over
cruelty whose position was to pacify
white fragility and whose intentions
were to fit in rather than to confront
those who divide and oppress so I I
sought affirmation of my blackness in
writings by scholars of color who
recognized and celebrated the
contributions of Africans Asians Latinos
Pacific Islanders and Native Americans
and other ethnic groups I grew up in
Jamaica a culture rich in food music
sports dance you know dance forms like
the dinky mini and Brookings we danced
with our hips and our pelvis is our
backs and our torsos physical eyes in
the
rhythms of reggae and dancehall allowing
our bodies to be expressive without
being sexualized exoticized fetishize
I’m remembering family gatherings in the
backyard where all ages dance together
body is moving with easygoing delight my
Jamaican dance forms connected me to
African traditions traditions then
continued to influence many different
aesthetics today the callin response
scene in hip hop dance battles can be
traced to African diasporic traditions
the syncopations and Pali rhythms seen
in jazz styles can be linked to the
pelvic proprietorship of twerking which
is not the new nor white but I was never
taught these links in my dance training
now that I’m a college professor of
dance I choose not to ignore my nuanced
individuality I teach from books yes but
I also teach from my lived experiences
in grad school I read the writings of
mostly white scholars this created a
vacuum of culturally specific
perspectives eradicating other voices
causing ideas and discussions to be
framed through a single lens a reduced
lens a smaller lens you see when the
bulk of scholarship on any topic is
primarily produced by a single cultural
perspective in this case white academics
which is arguably limited even if
unintentionally so the ratio of people
like me from the dance history I was
taught made me question the presence of
people of color in books on stage on
film
in the curriculum even on faculty
rosters yes because it was being erased
I began to see race everywhere
I became an educator because I thought
it necessary to not only question whose
history was being told but to plant
myself in the heart of the telling to
rewrite it to retell it and in the
process help to communicate these
histories as the multi-faceted most
dimensional multi-source rich
diverse stores that they are I welcome
the taste of diversity I want to see
black girls in pointe shoes and and
white girls and lovers because in these
moments we will start living the
experiences that bleed from sadness what
rejoice in the promise of inclusion the
color of my skin carries a story stories
stories I intend to tell stories of a
poison path Jim Crow segregation police
stories that continue to blemish where
we stand
stories of brothers forgiving brothers
stories of friends protecting friends
from prejudice calling attention to
systems of oppression stories of
strangers helping strangers with
outstretched hands reminding us that the
stories we must tell our stories of hope
and optimism but make no mistake make no
mistake I am not so alienated from my
reality that I don’t see the ugliness
that confronts me daily I’m not so
whitewashed so hungry for utopia that I
that I don’t see the white woman pulling
her purse closer to her as I adjust my
body position to fit in the crowded
elevator racism is real make no mistake
we are not equal the pride of my people
is accompanied by an ever-present morbid
past that cannot be erased with the
bumping of fists or the shaking of hands
I am fully aware that some of my white
counterparts are not doing the work to
combat racism because they grew up in a
world where race for them is not an
issue it will take more than the talk
about race to combat
issues that deal with perspectives on
cultural identity inclusion and
diversity see I also grew up in a
culture where women were celebrated for
their bodily bounty now I find myself in
a society
we’re feminine curves are denounced and
the term plus-sized is nothing but the
noose around the necks of women
I remember being 14 and my mother whose
skin was the color of caramel said to me
you’re black and ugly that statement
stuck with me until well into my 20s
shaping my understanding of beauty in
others and in myself as I got older I I
realized that that wasn’t my mother’s
true my mother loves me even if I remind
her of my father the man who triggers
her anger towards me one day a stranger
called me handsome and I didn’t know
what to do with that information but
that statement broke the curse from my
childhood years later I stand before you
a man purged of his childhood
insecurities almost completely I believe
that my dark skin was ugly I believe
that my white nose was horrid I believe
that I was not beautiful and I had to
fit in a mole I could never feel because
I was never born that way still true for
so many little black boys and black
girls see we all know the mainstream
images of skinny and white on the covers
of magazines are marketed symbols of
beauty but when will we also embrace
larger frames and afro textured hair as
beautiful and although very different
very different when will we start using
a shared space to embrace both black and
white experiences maybe it’s a long shot
but what would that space look like when
I was living in Dallas I came across the
painting by you Willie Smith
entitled the piper the painting sliver
into my subconscious and lingered for
weeks the rotting wall the black boy the
air of hopelessness
it was familiar but for all
wrong reasons you see when I was a
little boy my father who was a police
officer held his gun to my head and he
said if I ever find out you’re gay I
will shoot you maybe it was my
soft-spoken voice maybe it was my mild
manners regardless I couldn’t understand
why how when I see the painting I
couldn’t help but remember growing up in
Jamaica always having to jump over
hurdles and walls Smith delivered a
painting with many meanings and I I
realized I didn’t have to search hard to
equate their symbolism to my struggles
over time the symbols of fear and
inferiority injustice intolerance and
Prejudice shifted to emblems of
possibilities Redemption and hope 11
years ago I made the phone call to my
father and recall to him a conversation
that stayed with me for many years I
told him that is his stripes forced me
to dislike him and although I wanted
nothing more than his affection the
reward of becoming the man that I am far
outweighed my need for his acceptance I
told him that I was gay and that he
couldn’t shoot me well some may say my
courage was enhanced by my distance I
call while I was in New York or or maybe
it was that third glass of wine I don’t
know
but sometimes the hardest conversations
are easiest when talking to strangers he
was my father and I was a son connected
by DNA but detached by hate I don’t know
the way thing is I don’t believe he
hates me how do you hate someone you
don’t know and this is not just my story
it’s the story of so many others who are
made to feel inferior who were made to
live in fear but can still hope dreaming
our morals should not be formed by the
deeds of bigots
and talking about a solution will not
end centuries of marginalization and
oppression we we have all engraved our
markings into the landscape of a great
nation hoping to form a waterfall of
parity there is there is so much beauty
in other there is so much beauty in
there is so much beauty in other being a
black gay man taught me that so who are
you who are we we we are all pieces of
each other vessels of triumph if we
choose to embrace the struggles of the
person sitting next to us we’re all
signals of Hope chanting the hymns of
redemption singing alongside a multitude
of ethnic groups if only to sound
harmonious we are pillars of promise
denouncing inequality kissing the lips
of liberation because in this moment we
should start tasting a new tomorrow
knowing that hatred intolerance and
tyranny can be pruned and discarded
thank you [Applause]