"Community must not mean a shedding of our differences, nor the pathetic pretense that these differences do not exist." -Audre Lorde

The more I delve into the issue of colorism, the more I hear or read variations on the statement, "We're all black." It's not a problematic statement in and of itself, but when it's given as the final word on the issue of colorism, it becomes a dismissive statement, similar to the "All lives matter" cry we love to hate. For example, we know that all lives matter (we're all black). But when someone says so in response to complaints about racism (colorism), it's not about inclusion (unity)–it's really about avoiding difficult truths, protecting the status quo, dismissing the lived realities of masses of people, and denying the impact of systemic bias.

So, yes, we're all black, but we experience blackness differently based on other aspects of our identity like gender, class, education, sexuality, ability, age, body type, physical appearance, and any number of life experiences. Let's not flatten our collective blackness after we've worked so hard for recognition of all our diversity and worked to undo the perception that we're a monolithic class of people. Intersectionality isn't just a demand for white feminists–we must demand it of ourselves, too.

I address colorism in particular because it is generally under-addressed in proportion to how pervasive it is. And because it's our one issue as black people that still makes us squirm in our seats, makes us extremely uncomfortable, defensive, sensitive, and angry. But not angry about the injustice of colorism. Black folks who get angry when we talk about colorism get angry like white folks when we talk about racism. They're mad that anyone's even bringing up the issue. They'll say that those of us who talk about colorism are being divisive, too sensitive, petty, and "just looking for something" (the same things white folks say in response to discussions about racism).

But any so-called "unity" that requires my silence ain't really unity. Using the statement, "We're all black" to end deeper conversations about colorism perpetuates an insidious facade of unity because it prevents us as a community from actually repairing the places where we're broken.

I must admit, however, that most people who respond with “We’re all black” usually have the best intentions. Especially in cases when they’re responding to the equally problematic “Not black enough” fallacy and “#teamdarkskin vs. #teamlightskin” trope. It’s true, too, that colorism is much less understood than racism, even among black people. So a person offering “We’re all black” as an easy answer to our colorism problem might really believe it’s that simple.

For example, the argument most commonly paired with “We’re all black” is that to white folks we’re all just black, that cops will profile light skinned black people the same way they profile dark skinned black people, etc. But there’s enough research on colorism to counter those arguments. It’s just that colorism research is less frequent and less visible than similar research on racism and interracial disparities. But if we think about it, we adamantly insist that white folks see color and in the same breath claim they only see black and white.

So, yeah, we all black, but that’s not the end of our story. That’s not the end of the conversation. But it’s certainly a great place to start.

Black Unity

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