Why You’ll Never Be Black "Enough"

[00:00:00]Did you see ever see any any um racism toward you?

[00:00:04]>> Um I mean when I was younger like I was I was my my friend Earl said this in a song, but I was [music] too white for the black kids and I was too black for the white kids.

[00:00:17]>> I'll be real. I don't feel accepted by black people and it's because I'm quite quirky. I'm very quirky. I'm very suburban suburban and I'm a bit preppy.

[00:00:27]Like those are the three ways I would describe myself >> versus white women or white women as an ally. Literally any day of the week, any corner of the globe. I I was studying white women over him because woman is going to supersede literally everything.

[00:00:40]>> Some of y'all going to get mad at me, but I've done my scientific research.

[00:00:43]And after years and years of studying, it's come to my attention that y'all don't know what the y'all be talking about. Y'all don't be talking about y'all don't be saying nothing. I be listening. Don't be hearing. Y'all don't know what y'all talking about.

[00:00:55]>> Yeah. What he said. I think the real danger of being black in suburbia is that it distorts our standards, the stories we tell, and the expectations we put on black people, including ourselves. Because the question I keep coming back to is this. Why is it that conversations about being black in suburbia almost always end up centering black people instead of the harmful white environments we actually grew up in? How do other black people consistently come out as the villains?

[00:01:18]And do we think that it's a coincidence?

[00:01:20]It's just a quinky dink. y'all really expect us to believe that white people were the ones who truly embraced and accepted you and your blackness? Was it that or were you just more willing to put up with their poor treatment of you?

[00:01:31]Or rather conditioned to? Let's talk about it. But first, play the intro.

[00:01:40]Welcome or welcome back to Lonie's Lens.

[00:01:42]My name is Kani. If you love thoughtful deep dives, camp, and a bit of whimsy, you're in the right place. You may have noticed we're in a new location. and we've unlocked a new location. I recently just moved and I'm actually very curious to know if you've been here since the last time I had natural lighting. I'm very curious because it's been like over a year since I've had any natural lighting in my videos. Yeah. So, let me know. Let me know what location you started joining my videos at cuz I think that's very interesting. If you guys have been here when I had my bookcase and my Rachel Senate cut out, you're a real one. So, thanks for watching. Thanks for sticking with me.

[00:02:14]But either way, if this is your first time here, my last video on this channel was the death of parody and satire, which I really thought was a great video. You guys kind of slept on it, though. And the one before that was Black Whimsy is Back, where I just recommended a bunch of black artists I really enjoy. If any of that interests you, everything will be linked in the description below along with my socials.

[00:02:32]Make sure to like, share, and subscribe, especially if you've been here before.

[00:02:35]And with that, let's get into today's video. It's going to be a long one, I think, but it's going to be a very good one.

[00:02:42]On November 12th, 2012, an 18-year-old Earl Sweatshirt released his single Chum with the following lyrics. Too white for the black kids and too white for the blacks. From honor roll to crack and locks up off them bicycle racks. I'm indecisive. I'm scatterrained and I'm frightened. It's evident in them eyes where you hide in all them icicles at.

[00:02:58]In 2015, Sisa made the demo for her wavy interlude which would later be condensed and added to control in 2017. The original demo included the following lyrics. Never had a chance. We could never understand. The price of being fast and young. The price of being black and suburbia. Daddy ain't working and you just trying to measure up to the rich kids with a transport backpacks with a name on it. Revived in 2025. The demo became a Tik Tok trend with black people everywhere sharing photos of their upbringings in suburbia, often as the only black person in sight. Oreo, whitewashed, acting whites, wannabe whites were all labels I became intimately familiar with growing up but hadn't thought of in a while. So, the black and suburbia trend was honestly very comforting and reassuring to see that this was a shared experience of people who look like me. These songs, trends, and online spaces have clearly given a voice to a deeply affecting and formative experience for so many black people, including myself, and I'm grateful. However, I've noticed that with time, this trend has also given voice to a group of people who use their experience of being black in suburbia to justify distancing themselves from blackness and black people entirely. For some, the trend has become less of a cathartic way to connect with other black people over feeling isolated and confused about their identity and more of a way to antagonize the community as a whole. But after reflecting on my experience being black in suburbia, I realized that this isn't new. Throughout my life, I've encountered black people who, unprompted, it was almost always unprompted, would voice their grievances about being ostracized within the black community, which there is no problem with. But it would never stop there. It would almost always lead to a justification of why they decided to distance themselves from black people entirely because of how a handful of black kids treated them growing up. And most of the time, but not always, there would be an implication of white and non-black people being more accepting of them. The best example of this I've encountered was when I was a freshman in college. I was getting dinner with three new friends and two of us were black women. Somehow, the other black girl started on a tangent about always feeling unaccepted by other black women because they would always make fun of her for things like not having her edges done. At first, I found myself sympathetic to her story, having also grown up never feeling like I met the standard of traditional blackness. But after a moment, I realized something. I was also sitting there without my edges done with my own suburban version of blackness. But somehow that didn't count. I didn't count. I had hung out with this girl several times at this point and been nothing but kind, accepting, and excited to pursue a friendship. I vividly remember her showing me a picture of her first boyfriend from high school, who she had told me treated her really poorly, and stopping in my tracks, making a theatrical display of how crazy I thought it was for her to settle for that. I even explained to her that just because we were at a PWI and people weren't checking for black girls doesn't mean we have to settle for poor treatment from mediocre white men. and she confided in me that no one had brought that to her attention before.

[00:05:45]So, her saying in mixed company that black women were never kind to her genuinely baffled me in that moment. For years, I really thought I should have said something and challenged her, but I don't think it would have mattered because I was already contradicting everything she was saying. I was a black woman who hadn't judged her. I didn't care whether her edges were done, mine weren't done. I was kind to her and somehow I still didn't count. Not in reality, of course, but in her narrative. Acknowledging me and how I contradicted her experiences with black women would render her verdict on black people inaccurate. And once I realized that, I started wondering how many of us are carrying stories about other black people that we've stopped allowing reality to interrupt. Because deep down, we don't want to let go of being black in suburbia. It's where we're comfortable.

[00:06:29]I've attended PWI's or predominantly white institutions my entire life. Now, thankfully, I wasn't ever the only black kid in my classes, weirdly, until I got to my honors program in university. But I do know what it's like to grow up and feel out of place and like I'm falling short of truly being black, even from other black people. My dad was actually one of the people to tell me that I talk white and is like, "Didn't you raise me?" But I digress. I got to take that up with him, I guess. I also remember being told I was too dark by other black people and biracial kids who were often my complexion or darker. There was actually this one biracial girl in band who would tell every other black girl in our school that they were actually very pretty for a black girl. Luckily, question mark, I was spared this remark.

[00:07:13]Am I chop? Am I chop for a black girl?

[00:07:15]No, I'm kidding. But I was also weirdly exoticized at times for my complexion and often asked if I was mixed or what I was mixed with. Gross. I even thought like somebody was like, "Are you Egyptian?" I don't know what's going on.

[00:07:27]But then the white and non-black kids would often treat me as though I wasn't a desirable being whatsoever. And it was made clear that black girls were at the bottom of the totem pole, if considered at all. I think this Tik Tok from Kelsey Lelay sums it up pretty well.

[00:07:39]>> Black in suburbia be like every other person of color you know, which is a very few amount for some odd reason.

[00:07:47]Feeling the need to let you know that their type is not you. Hey, I just woke up. We're just growing up and like the only other black guys who just I happen to know them because our families are friends cuz we're the only ones here.

[00:08:02]Letting me know that his type is not black girls. Hey, look at your mom. Hey, I didn't ask. Hey. And then randomly like 3 years later spinning it back and being like, "Yeah, you probably like white dudes. Hey, what did I do?"

[00:08:20]>> Heavy on. I just woke up. Heavy on. I didn't ask. As far as interests go, I was the biggest K-pop fan. I talked about it in my K-pop video, but being a K-pop fan used to be one of the dorkiest things you could do when I was in middle school. And being black on top of that, double damage, double damage to my psyche. It seemed that from every corner, every angle, by every metric, I was failing in some way. Not black enough, too black. It was a lot to process, especially as a child. But as I've gotten older and actually looked back at these remarks, the disperate nature of these observations about my blackness made me realize something that I wasn't fully conscious of at the time.

[00:08:54]These people, mostly other kids, were just making up as they went along. They were just as clueless about what it meant to be black as I was. And they thought adhering to the conventional path gave them more authority on blackness, but it didn't. No one will ever perform blackness the right way because there is no right way to be black. And the sooner you understand that and know it to be true for yourself, the easier it will be to accept yourself. My upbringing in suburbia shaped me, but it doesn't define me by any means.

[00:09:22]>> You want to say hi?

[00:09:23]>> Hello.

[00:09:25]That's your apartment. Is that what you're filming? I look cool. Okay. Okay.

[00:09:28]Okay.

[00:09:28]>> My mom never told me that I spoke white, so shout outs to her. Now, let's talk about policing blackness. We really need to stop trying to invalidate aspects of other people's identity just because we don't like them or the things that they do. Identity policing in general is corny and I'm guilty of it. I am guilty of doing it before. It's corny. It reminds me of how anytime a man does something objectively reprehensible towards women, is misogynistic, is feminine, or has some other undesirable trait. A lot of people's gut reaction is to question their sexuality and call them gay.

[00:09:58]>> Oh Lord, he doesn't have a girlfriend.

[00:10:02]He is the girlfriend.

[00:10:09]I'm not gay.

[00:10:10]>> They aren't gay. You just don't like them and their behavior. That's okay.

[00:10:14]You can be a straight man and do things to harm women. Then with blackness, I already talked about it in my MAGA video. We can absolutely call out questionable and poor behavior from other black people without invalidating their blackness. But for a lot of people, that's their go-to. That's their kill move. As soon as someone has bad politics, is a grifter, or is simply unlikable, we try to discount their blackness. And it's like, no, they are just black with questionable politics.

[00:10:39]There is no right way to be black. And being questioned about your blackness is wrong. Questioning other black people about their blackness is wrong. Period.

[00:10:46]Like, I'm sorry, who made you the arbiter of blackness? Are you a hall monitor, the mayor? I like to imagine that the keys to black town would be those like picks with the black fist on them. But again, policing blackness is wrong. Period. Especially when it's a monorracial black person. Because I've noticed in the black community that when dark-kinned monracial black people don't present or show up in a certain way, their blackness is immediately up for question. But let a racially ambiguous, fair skinned, or even white person do the absolute bare minimum and use some AAV and y'all will be the first in line to defend their blackness, going through the records to define which great-grandparent was black or half black. I need y'all to make it make sense, but I mean, I already made a video on that, didn't I? A recent example of this would be the weird treatment of Annayia from the season of Love Island. There has been so much vitrial toward this seemingly kind and genuine girl for the smallest of things.

[00:11:38]There were nasty comments about her hair. I saw people saying that she wasn't doing enough and then making fun of her for saying that she's going to do her big one. People were even saying that every time she turns up it makes them cringe. Like Jesus Christ. Then they weirdly started pitting her against her other dark-kinned co-star Trinity who's more conventionally black to them saying that if they met in the real world they wouldn't be friends.

[00:11:59]Something I've learned is that if you have to start making up hypothetical possible reasons to [ __ ] on someone, you're too deep in the weeds. You're too deep in the weeds. Like, let it go. But y'all just be saying anything. It seems like no matter what this girl does, for some people, it will never be right. I found this very interesting because I remember bringing up Tiana Taylor in a past video and questioning the hate she was getting for doing too much. I really hate people who don't do anything, sit at home scared, in fear, telling people who actually have the courage to go out and do something and make something of themselves that they're doing too much.

[00:12:30]Does that make any sense? I love a It's like, "Oh, well, if I were you, I wouldn't do." We know. We know what you wouldn't do, babe. That's all you do is what you wouldn't do. What Cardi say?

[00:12:38]These hoes never do enough. That's why I always do the most. Compared to Annayia, Tiana fits more neatly into her commonly held ideas of what blackness is. Yet, she is also closely monitored and made out to be too much. There's just no winning with some people. So many of the black patrol remind me of Goldilocks.

[00:12:54]Not black enough. Too black. Oh, that's just right. Do y'all ever get tired?

[00:12:59]Please, please, please take a day off.

[00:13:00]We see black women being themselves, living life, and being human in all the forms that that takes. And some people can't help but point out every way in which they fall short. And it's probably because it's the only time they feel powerful. I'm trying to understand and have empathy for people who compulsively police other people's blackness, especially those who did it as kids.

[00:13:18]Being black is painted as inherently lesser than and unworthy. And I can see how for some, if you fall into the conventional idea of what blackness is, you can at least feel like you're doing that right and take pride in reclaiming that. But the problem lies in invalidating other people and tearing them down in order to build yourself up.

[00:13:33]That will never be okay, nor will it actually build a solid foundation for your identity.

[00:13:39]I've spent a lot of time talking about the antilackness I experienced from other black people and within our community because having your identity questioned and invalidated by people who look like you at such a young informative age can be devastating. I know because I went through it. However, I want to make something abundantly clear that I feel gets lost in these conversations, especially within the community. The absolute worst of the anti-blackness I've experienced in my life has been from non-black people. I want to make that crystal clear because as I'll get to later, there is a double standard that makes black people's intracommunal and interpersonal offenses seem somehow comparable to the effects of systemic and interpersonal racism at the hands of non-black people. And that is where so many people start to lose the plot. Again, I ask, why is it that conversations about being black in suburbia and being black in general almost always end up centering black people instead of the harmful white environments we actually grew up in? How do other black people come out as the ultimate villains? I've noticed that for a lot of people, acknowledging the past hurt, confusion, and isolation of being black and suburbia is typically where the conversation and analysis end because it's familiar and comfortable.

[00:14:45]And the stories we've held on to and the conclusions we've drawn about entire demographics of people get projected onto every experience that we have going forward. And it's unhealthy because that acknowledgement gets mistaken for processing and unpacking the pain when in reality it's just rehashing, ruminating, and ultimately rationalizing your resentment for the black community as a whole. And once that happens, every new interaction you have with another black person gets filtered through the old hurt. Like I said up top, the real danger of being black in suburbia is that it distorts our standards, the stories we tell, and the expectations we put on black people, including ourselves. Because if I recall correctly, the lyrics were too white for the black kids and too white for the blacks. But somehow a lot of y'all always ended up with the white kids, which truly would not be a problem if those kids weren't also racist, exclusionary, and tokenizing you. Do not get me wrong. Dr. Umar be on some [ __ ] But he was not at all wrong for asking those few clarifying questions.

[00:15:42]>> So, let me get this right. Black girls called you ugly. So, do you want me to believe that the white girls called you handsome? [music] The black girls called you ugly. So, you want me to believe that the white girls called you handsome? [music] If the black girls called you ugly, I'm damn sure the white girls didn't call you handsome.

[00:16:07]Because guess who taught the black girls that dark skin was ugly? The white girls taught them that. So if the black girls called you ugly, I can only imagine what the white girls called you.

[00:16:18]>> Y'all really expect us to believe that the white people were the ones who truly embraced and accepted you? Personally, it feels like a crazy ass conclusion to come to. Feels like quite the leap.

[00:16:26]Okay. And to clarify, I'm not talking about white people as individuals. I have white friends who I love and cherish. I'm talking as a whole because as I'll get to, white people are always graded individually, but for black people, it's always a group project. The standards are not the same and they never have been.

[00:16:43]If we're being honest, most people hold black people to a higher standard than they will ever hold white people to. To be fair, this is a gradual process. It starts with microaggressions like mispronouncing your name and never correcting it. But after years of learning to excuse and tolerate racism in predominantly white spaces as a survival mechanism, you become numb to it. And as a result, microaggressions, tokenism, and blatant racism just become background noise. Somehow, when it comes to white people who have historically and interpersonally done crazy, traumatic, and oppressive to you and other black people, oh, it's not all white people, but god forbid a black girl rejected you in middle school. God forbid a black girl said something snarky to you about your edges freshman year of high school. You will never let that go. But you will date and surround yourself with several white people who mispronounce your name, talk crazy about black people, including you, don't vote for your rights, don't take up for you at all, have racist family members who exclude you, all because a couple of black kids were rude to you in middle school. If you think I'm pulling this out of thin air, I have known black people throughout my life who let non-black people call them slurs and either say nothing about it or actually encourage it, but they refuse to date or befriend other black people because of teasing that happened to them in grade school. I was talking to my mom about this a couple days ago and she reminded me of this girl, this white friend I had who came up to me and she told me like, "Hey, Monica." And I was like, "Who who's Monica?" And she was like, "Say it slowly." "Hey, Monica." She was trying to call me the N word. And I told her, "Don't do that." And she was like, "Well, Maya Maya said that it was cool, Maya being another black girl." And I was like, "I'm not Maya. Sorry." But that's it was so normal. I should just let that happen that she thought she could just come to me and say that. That is something that is so normal. Since my mom told me about that, I've been trying to put myself in Maya's shoes and understand like what makes someone tolerate that or be okay with that or not see a problem with that or encourage it. And I don't know, one of the conclusions I came to is that they just see it as a unfortunate consequence of being around something they value or getting that validation. It's like, well, if I want to be around these people, I have to put up with this thing. And I think because people subconsciously don't value black people or black spaces, they will not tolerate certain things from them because you're so down here, you shouldn't make them feel bad in any way where they'll let white people just treat them however because they feel lucky to be in their presence. Some crazy [ __ ] And this double standard also shapes the stories we tell ourselves about our lives. In my first video on Tyler the Creator, I forgot to point this out, but honestly, it works better in this video. During this interview, Larry King asks Tyler if he ever experienced racism, and he immediately responds with the Earl Sweatshirt lyrics about being too black and too white. Then he continues on to describe being racially profiled for window shopping in Beverly Hills.

[00:19:19]>> Did you see ever see any any um racism toward you?

[00:19:24]Um, I mean, when I was younger, like I was I was my my friend Earl said this in a song, but I was too white for the black kids and I was too black for the white kids. So, I kind of didn't really fit much into a um into a, you know, a certain spot >> and things like that. So, >> yeah. No one's I wouldn't call it racism but you know or uh yeah like sometimes like in Beverly Hills or so like >> you know they just cuz I'm like a young black dude and I'm dressed like this and I'll probably skate to Chanel on my skateboard or whatever. They're just like, "Oh, this dude's window shopping."

[00:20:07]But then I go cop my mom a really expensive purse. And then they want to treat you different like, "Oh crap, he actually bought like they just think either I don't know if it's just based off how I look or whatever, but you know, things like that. It's just >> he's going to rob something, but wait a minute, he's got a credit.

[00:20:22]>> Oh [ __ ] he actually bought this and he's buying more and oh crap. Then they look out the window and see like, oh that's a nice vehicle. Oh crap. The man was racially profiled, but somehow that is the second thing he brought up when asked about experiences with racism. His feelings of insecurity surrounding his blackness in comparison to other black kids took precedence. My mom said this might be because it was more formative for him. I think it may be a sign of how desensitized black people are to racism that it becomes secondary to grade school rejection from their black peers.

[00:20:50]As I said, many of us have become so accustomed to racism from white people that we treat it like background noise.

[00:20:56]while rejection from other black kids become our villain origin story. And again, if you think I was making up the, you know, y'all will let people call you slurs. We literally see Tyler tell Larry that he wouldn't care if he called him a slur on broadcast television. He actively encouraged it.

[00:21:11]>> You could have called me a and I would not give a >> I said it in my videos on K-pop and Tyler, but I don't think this is really indifference. I think it's a way of reclaiming agency. If racism feels inevitable, acting like you don't care about it or even inviting it creates the illusion that it's happening on your own terms. And that's an understandable coping mechanism for a child. It's a lot harder to watch from a grown ass man.

[00:21:33]They'd be like, "No one can be racist to me unless I want them to." And it's like, why would you want them to?

[00:21:39]Funnily enough, a big issue a lot of us run into is making this issue so black and white. Literally, pun intended.

[00:21:45]After growing up in predominantly white spaces, I think a lot of us put black spaces on a pedestal, thinking that once we get around other black people, we will immediately feel a sense of belonging and acceptance that we've been searching for our entire lives. But that is an insane amount of pressure that is setting both the black community and ourselves up for failure. When other black people don't immediately mend all of our identity issues and disappoint us in even the smallest of ways, it can feel like a betrayal and become something way bigger than that single interaction. So, we run back to the white spaces we're used to because as the saying goes, better the devil you know than the devil you don't. And if that's your choice, conscious or not, I cannot change your mind. Be friends with whoever you want. Date whoever you want.

[00:22:27]You really do not have to justify or explain yourself to me. Least of all to me. Are you kidding me? I'm a random girl on the internet. And if I'm being honest, I'd prefer you didn't explain because so often when you do, it falls short and makes things worse because it's illogical at best and racist at worst. The same girl I talked about in the hook, we were at dinner for a different thing and it was again us two black women into non-black women. And she was always talking about guys because she was she liked she liked guys. Like I don't but she because she liked guys. And one of the girls asked her like, "Well, what's your type?" And I [ __ ] you not this girl. The first thing out of her mouth is, you know, I don't really like black guys because they all make music. I talked about it in my fetishization cannon event video.

[00:23:09]When people ask you what your type is, you never have to respond with what you don't like. If somebody asks you what your favorite flavor of ice cream is, you don't go, "You know what? I hate chocolate vanilla. Oh, I hate pistachios." You know, they always have pistachios in them. I asked you what you like. But so many people, that's why I say it's unprompted, unprompted, unprovoked, will take any opportunity to tell you why they don't with black people. And it's like, who asked, babe?

[00:23:32]Who asked? Hi. I sure didn't ask. And I'm I'm still to this day, like, they make music. Like, it's so funny. Okay, anyways, let's get back into the actual topic. All I ask is that you don't mistake your unresolved pain for evidence that black people everywhere are uniquely unaccepting and then spread that narrative to other people. That is completely unacceptable. The main inspiration for this video came from this Tik Tok. A white woman is an ally literally any day of the week, any corner of the globe. I I was setting one over a hand because 100 is going to supersede literally everything. I saw people reacting to it on Tik Tok the first day I got back on the app after a month break and I was immediately like, "Yeah, this is why I stay off this app.

[00:24:09]This is why I stay off of this godforsaken app, but it inspired this video. So, I guess I'm thankful." roles that I'm expected to play in my life, the spaces that I am expected to be in, how I am expected to feel myself, to see myself, to feel about myself, the ways that I'm expected to engage with my own body, the way that I'm expected to show up in love, in my family, everything.

[00:24:29]Everything is informed by my womanhood in a way that race is present, but secondary.

[00:24:34]Yeah, I'd say secondary. The discussion on TikTok was mostly about the clear lack of knowledge about intersectionality as a concept and the nuance of identity. All of your identities exist at the same time. you are black and a woman at the same time.

[00:24:46]There's no need to separate and rank the two. But, you know, this person wants to believe otherwise. That's their prerogative. I was more so focused on or rather confused as to why unprompted this creator so definitively declared that she would side with one demographic over another. Like, not even on a case-byase basis. Because the thing that blows me about this is that this is not a choice she is having to make. Like I said up top, this is almost always unprompted. This is purely hypothetical.

[00:25:16]No one is holding a gun to her head making her choose between black men and white women. To my knowledge, no one even asked. She is just letting us know of her own valition where her allegiance lies. Not even just that she expects white women to side with her, but she explicitly says that she will side with them every time. When I saw that video, my first reaction was literally, "Well, yeah, white women are your ally everywhere you go because your standards for white women are so goddamn low."

[00:25:41]Makes sense to me. And this is not even a shade to this creator. I hadn't seen a video of hers before this. Our standards for white women as a society, as a collective, are low. Who's the most famous female musician again? Right.

[00:25:53]Kani, don't on Taylor Swift challenge.

[00:25:55]Impossible. Cuz a lot of y'all think that like white people just not being racist, not being overtly racist or not being mean to you is enough to make them an ally. Like y'all being able to kiki and laugh and haha they say period and do some aeve and they're a safe white person to be around. They don't have to actually prove themselves in any way, actually show up in any way as an actual ally. Again, talked about it in that video. Like, y'all think Addison Ray is an activist cuz she wore Protect the Dolls t-shirt. Like, it's really barebones with y'all. I already talked about this in myth of the rebrand video.

[00:26:25]So, check that out. I have so many thoughts on that Tik Tok, but this section is already so long. So, I'll end by building on my original question. Do we think it's a coincidence that growing up in predominantly white spaces has left many of us with lingering resentment toward other black people, but we're so quick to forgive or overlook the failings of the white people around us and sometimes even go as far as propping them up as allies for doing the absolute bare minimum? I don't think so. But as always, that's just Lonie's lens. But before we continue, here's a quick word from the sponsor of today's video, Speak. Speak is a language learning platform that gets you speaking the language of your choice from day one. And for me, that's Spanish. I love traveling, but I've noticed one thing that really makes or breaks a trip for me. My ability to communicate freely with the locals and feel confident getting around without constantly using translating apps on my phone. This was part of what made studying abroad in South Korea so fun.

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[00:27:18]Right now, I'm preparing for a trip to Guatemala with my mom in a few weeks, and I really want to brush up on my Spanish skills since I haven't practiced nearly at all since high school. I know the basics already, but I have very little speaking experience. So, I'm happy to say that speak has made me feel much more confident and prepared for my trip. As someone with years of language learning experience throughout high school and college, I personally think the best way to learn is through speaking and listening. So, my favorite part of speak is that there is an emphasis on speaking rather than simply memorizing vocabulary or grammar.

[00:27:46]Instead, you are learning useful phrases and actually using them in conversation.

[00:27:49]I've been using speak in my free time over the past couple weeks and I love that I can do it literally from anywhere. During a unit review session, I accidentally said no mucho ablo franc instead of no ablo mucho franc. And speak actually created an entire review session on that specific grammar point with example sentences for me to get comfortable with that structure and it really helped. One of Speak's coolest features is the free talk section. It allows you to put your knowledge to the test in real life scenarios. For example, I really want to be able to communicate with local vendors when I'm in Guatemala. So, I input that specific scenario into Speak so I could get some more practice. Overall, using Speak has made me much more confident in my ability to speak Spanish again, and I highly recommend it to you all. So, start your free week with Speak using the link below. Now, let's get back into today's video. Now, let's discuss confirmation and negativity bias.

[00:28:36]Confirmation bias is people's tendency to process information by looking for or interpreting information that is consistent with their existing beliefs.

[00:28:44]This biased approach to decision-making is largely unintentional, and it results in a person ignoring information that is inconsistent with their beliefs. These beliefs can include a person's expectations in a given situation and their predictions about a particular outcome. People are especially likely to process information to support their own beliefs when an issue is highly important or self-relevant. Negativity bias refers to the psychological tendency of individuals to prioritize negative information and experiences over positive ones. Historically, negativity bias may have evolved as a survival mechanism helping humans respond to potential threats in their environment. However, in modern context, this bias can hinder individuals from fully enjoying life and taking beneficial risks. This bias can also impact various areas such as interpersonal relationships and political choices, often leading individuals to emphasize negative traits over positive ones. So, when we experience pain or discomfort in black spaces, confirmation and negativity bias can lead us to interpret those moments as evidence that will never belong. When in reality, the situation is often much more complicated. The video of the black woman in the hook saying she never felt accepted in black spaces struck me and reminded me of myself for a brief time when I was younger. I don't feel accepted by black people. I don't like I've gone to events that are catered towards just black people. And I'll be real, I don't feel accepted by black people. And it's because I'm quite quirky. I'm very quirky. I'm very suburban suburban. And I'm a bit preppy.

[00:30:10]Like those are the three ways I would describe myself. At one point, I also didn't feel comfortable in black spaces.

[00:30:15]But I also recognized that I didn't feel comfortable in any spaces, period, regardless of race because I had social anxiety that I wasn't working through at the time. I was insecure about myself and my blackness, and socializing is hard in general. So, I honestly can't look back on those situations and blame the spaces entirely. Yes, some people may have been rude or distant, but that didn't mean I had to internalize it and use it as a justification to avoid black spaces for the rest of my life and spread the narrative that they are unaccepting. For example, I joined a film club when I was in university, but I ended up quitting because I didn't feel like I belonged. Instinctually, I thought it was because I wasn't black enough. After all, at that point, I still wasn't secure in myself or my blackness. But I now realize that there were so many other reasons that had nothing to do with me or my blackness.

[00:30:58]The main reason I felt out of place and struggled to make connections was that I didn't know these people. I was coming into a group of students who already knew each other for years. All had the same classes in the communication college while I was at the business school. And I just didn't mesh with some of the people, which is okay. None of that experience would be a reasonable justification for me to write off black people in spaces entirely. But it would be if my mission were to reinforce the narrative that I'm not black enough, confirmation bias, and that black spaces are judgmental and not accepting.

[00:31:27]Negativity bias. And I see a lot of people fall into this mindset because we're primed to be against one another in this white supremacist society. But the subsequent idea that in this white supremacist society, white spaces are more accepting of black people is alarming to say the very least. So my question when I see people stuck in these narratives is this. What do you gain from holding on to the idea that black spaces are inherently unwelcoming and judgmental? What do you actually gain from believing that you aren't black enough and you never will be? My conclusion is that these beliefs give you a reason not to try. In fact, it makes not trying to be in community with other black people the only choice. If the story you've accepted and keep repeating to yourself is that black people are unaccepting and you will never be black enough, you never have to register contradicting experiences with black people when they happen, like my friend from college. You never have to reconcile with the biases and prejudices you have toward other black people.

[00:32:18]These beliefs make accepting your blackness for yourself unnecessary because the real problem is that you were just not black enough and you never will be. But no, you were always black enough. Kids were being mean to you because kids are mean. They also had internalized anti-blackness that they unfortunately externalized to you. They were trying to figure it out for themselves and they victimized you in the process. I'm sorry you had to go through the teasing, be called an Oreo, and be made to question who you are.

[00:32:42]However, at the end of the day, you still have to figure out for yourself.

[00:32:46]You still have to define yourself for yourself. You have to make choices and be accountable to them and understand that who you choose to associate with and distance yourself from going forward is now a reflection of your own values and biases. The reason this frustrates me so much is not that it's [ __ ] y'all or that I think everyone who was called an Oreo in middle school is antilack and irredeemable. Please, but a lot of y'all have antilack thought processes and tendencies that you are not unpacking but making everyone else'sing problem and it's getting to the point where it's harmful. I'm sorry, but you don't just get to repeat, I was too black for the white kids and too white for the black in perpetuity to justify your behavior.

[00:33:22]You're an adult.

[00:33:23]>> Hey, so it's kind of your job to become a welladjusted adult and to develop social skills at a certain point. And once you are past the age of 22, being raised in suburbia is no longer a valid excuse as to why you don't or won't or can't interact with other black people.

[00:33:42]It's weird. People are going to look at you weird because it's weird. You got to figure that out.

[00:33:48]>> There's also this hyperindividualistic mindset that a lot of people fall into.

[00:33:52]Like the girl on the hook saying she doesn't feel accepted in black spaces because she's quirky, suburban, and preppy, as if she's the first and only black person to exhibit those traits.

[00:34:01]And every other black person who has those traits has been permanently exiled to non-black spaces. Can we be a little bit more serious? Some of y'all are dedicated to convincing yourselves and others that you had a special set of circumstances that led you to never be capable of being in community with other black people. And it's simply not true.

[00:34:19]Y'all have no agency and it's all other black people and how they've treated you. Right. My mom brought up Issa Ray as a counter example, which is fun because I just started watching Insecure Again. Issa Ray's entire brand was built off of her being an awkward black girl.

[00:34:32]>> My name is Jay and I'm awkward and black. Someone once told me those were the two worst things anyone could be.

[00:34:39]That someone was right.

[00:34:41]>> The first scene in Insecure is a classroom full of black kids questioning Issa's blackness because of her hair, speech, and style. But Issa Ray is renowned in black spaces and appelled as a creative visionary and inspiration to the quirky, awkward black girls everywhere who were yearning for that kind of representation. And Issa herself has always been in tune with her blackness, proving that quirkiness and blackness are not mutually exclusive traits. She cracked a code a long time ago, guys. I think Issa Ray is such a great counter to public figures like Tyler the Creator because she shows that you don't have to actively distance yourself from blackness or spread antilackness just because you felt awkward or insecure about your identity.

[00:35:18]I think we've all felt that at some point, but the way we handle it is truly a test of character. Growing up, I had white friends with similar interests, weird black friends like me with similar interests, and more conventional black friends with similar interests. I liked K-pop and punk music, but I also liked rap, hip-hop, and R&B. I'm a multi-dimensional person. But I've noticed that a lot of people who have this individualistic mindset and are convinced that they are the only black person with X trait or Y hobby are typically not very accepting of stereotypically black interests either.

[00:35:47]They often put down stereotypically black interests while distancing themselves from black people and then expect black spaces to embrace them when they don't even try to meet them halfway. My 30-year-old brother is actually a great example of this. The other day he asked me, "Do you think it's weird that I like heavy metal?" And I I literally was like, "No, that's that's cool." And he was like, "Yeah, yeah, I just I just don't really like rap music." It's like, "Okay, [laughter] like, well, you want a cookie?" This is actually why I'm so intentional about putting a diverse range of artists in different genres in the Black Whimsy series because there are so many different ways to be whimsical, which to me just means delightfully unusual. But I see so many people, one using the word incorrectly. You're not whimsy, but you can be whimsical. There really is a literacy crisis in this country, and that has been bothering me. Sorry. But two, using being whimsical to distance yourself from other black people. I cannot stand a I'm just too quirky and whimsy for other black people. Sorry, I'm not a baddie kind of person. Y'all make me itch. And it's because you think you're being slick, but you're not.

[00:36:49]Again, you don't have to put something down or distance yourself from it to feel secure in being different. Just own your [ __ ] and keep it moving. You don't have to pretend to like things you don't like, but you also don't have to be so rigid in your own interests and use that as the reason you can't connect with others because you never know. Maybe you do like certain things, but you've never been exposed to them. Or maybe you still don't, but a few of your friends do and that's okay, too. I also think it is a trauma response to be like, "Oh, well, the thing that everybody who was teasing me liked, like I just don't like them."

[00:37:17]You probably do like them and those people ruined it for you, so give it a chance. You never know. A lot of people want to simplify other black people not liking them to their interests, hobbies, or speech, which sometimes it is, but I think there's more to it. You can be awkward, quirky, and anti-black. I I think a lot of the time y'all need the reason other black people not don't like you to be that you're quirky when really it's because you're anti-black. Like, like I personally feel that I can just tell when a black person is in the sunken place. And it has way less to do with their speech patterns and hobbies than it does their eyes and their body language. The things they say feel less like they are conclusions that they came to on their own and more something they've absorbed over time. And their body is in congruent with what they're saying. There is a clear stiffness and disharmony, at least to me. And I just I just want to say that sometimes it is a vibe thing. And don't you dare try to say that I exhibit those traits. Y'all don't understand. Somebody somebody said that I talk like I hate talking. And you know what? I do hate talking, especially when I make these videos, because I have to write my script, read my script probably at least 20 times while writing it, and then I have to read that to make sure it's okay, and then I have to film that and sit here for two and a half hours. So, if it seems like I hate talking, it seems like I'm dead. The eyes, I am. I'm [laughter] sorry. I had to get that off because I was just like, yeah, if you've never sat and filmed a video for hours on end after reading a script that you've been working on for 3 weeks, you won't understand. But if you had a conversation with me, I'm much more lively and engaged. So, but wouldn't you like to know? You would love that, wouldn't you? But anyways, I think because some people's biases and anti-blackness are such a huge blind spot to them because of it being normalized in their predominately white upbringing. So, they think that it's just the way that they talk that makes other black people not with them. But in reality, it's also the content of what you're saying and the remnants of your anti-blackness seeping through that other black people can sense and understandably probably don't want to subject themselves to and shouldn't have to. It is not other black people's responsibility to sit around and wait for you to unpack your antilackness. But I think a lot of this process of healing and growth takes a level of honesty, self-awareness, and resolve that most people aren't ready for. It's hard to contend with the damage that white supremacy has done to all of us. And reckon with how much anti-blackness we've internalized, and the coping mechanisms that once protected us that are now shrinking our lives and affecting the way we view others. It is a lot to process and it is very difficult, but it's worth it. I myself grew up in a very white affluent town.

[00:39:35]In my school, there was three black people. I was one of them. In the town, you could count the amount of black people in the town. Like, it was it was very, very few and far between. And if I'm being so honest and really self-aware, and looking back now, I wasn't being accepted by black people back then because I wasn't accepting them myself. When you grow up with such a proximity to whiteness, unfortunately, you have to assimilate. And when you assimilate, you do sort of carry a sort of superiority complex with that. The type of music that my friends in uni would listen to, I would label as aggressive and angry and just pretty [ __ ] to be honest. And like even the way they spoke, like I would really hate it. Like it would grate on me when people would put the word still at the end of the sentence. You're like, "Oh yeah, I'm on it still." And I'd be like, "That's not English. Talk properly." But I really haven't changed that much about me. Like I still listen to different music. I still talk the way that I do. Um and I still sort of have I guess that sort of preppiness about me. But I do 100% feel accepted by black people. Like my closest friends are all black, right?

[00:40:44]And I haven't changed much about me because I think when you actually get to know black people, you realize that everybody has their quirks. Everybody is so different and you just have to find the people that gel with you the most.

[00:40:58]Like for example, if I go to like a recess or, you know, a predominantly black event, I don't know half the songs that are playing. I don't know half the artists that are playing, but I'm still going. I'm still shaking her leg. I'm still having fun. And if people clock that I don't know, you know, don't know the songs and whatever. It's not like, "Oh my gosh, she doesn't know the music." They're like, "Come dance with us." You know, I'm like, "I don't know who this is." They're like, "I don't care." Like, they're almost as if like, "Let me put you on. Let me show you something. let's invite you into this space, right? And I just I just love it so much. Like I love being around black people so much. And I don't know, I feel like yes, I've been called white, I've been called princess, I've been, you know, called, you know, different things for the way that I talk and and stuff like that, but I just feel like I was putting up that blocker. I was the one that was isolating myself from them because I was like, "Ooh, these are these are not my people." Um, when I just didn't really give them a chance, to be honest. I mean, I didn't even know how I didn't know how to socialize with black people because I'd never had to do that before. Like, there are so many different types of black people that I think to say that they just don't accept you is I think you just haven't met the right ones to be honest. And it's like, you know, not everybody's going to accept you because of of, you know, who you are and your personality differences and and all that sort of stuff. But I think you got to get out of that mindset and go and find people that you actually can mesh with.

[00:42:17]In that Larry King interview, Tyler actually said something quite poignant.

[00:42:21]>> It's just weird that a lot of people still get, you know, >> upset >> upset with that. And it's like, >> I don't know. I think you give certain words power.

[00:42:30]>> Now, he was saying that to justify white people saying the ends slur.

[00:42:35]>> You could have called me a and I would not give a >> which I completely disagree with, but I do agree that we give certain words too much power. Too black for the white kids and too white for the blacks was a beautiful and poignant articulation of the suburban experience for black kids growing up in the age of the internet like we deoic's concept of dual consciousness was in the early 1900s and still is. But it is not an identity you have to hold on to for the rest of your life and give the power to shape your self-perception in the spaces you associate with. This narrative you're desperately holding on to is clouding your future and openness to the connection you claim to want. But you can grow, you can change, and you can stay the same. It's really up to you.

[00:43:13]I've already decided that I won't let what a handful of black people have said about me inform how I interact with all black people I meet going forward.

[00:43:20]Instead, I give them the opportunity to help mend those old wounds. I don't make it their responsibility or expect them to accept me before I've accepted myself. But that is my journey. You are on your own and you have to decide what you're going to do on your own terms in your own timeline.

[00:43:36]Genuine question. Who are you waiting for to tell you you're black enough? One of the biggest revelations I've had while writing this video is that a lot of us are waiting for other black people to affirm, embrace, and accept things about them that they haven't accepted about themselves. We want other black people to embrace and accept our version of blackness before we've done that for ourselves. And then we blame them for why we don't feel secure in our own blackness. There's this underlying implication of I need black people to tell me that I'm black enough. I need black people to validate my interests. I need black people to accept me. But if your entire sense of identity depends on external validation, it'll always feel hollow. The acceptance has to come from within first. Otherwise, every criticism you encounter will become an identity crisis. I said it about femininity in another video, but what happens when the people who affirm your identity leave or change their minds? What will be left of your idea of your blackness then? So, at what point do we stop outsourcing our sense of black identity to the people who questioned it when we were children?

[00:44:31]Because the truth of the matter is that you'll never be black enough. That's just an elusive state to hold over your head and keep you performing for other people's validation. So again, I ask, who are you waiting for to tell you you're black enough? I got this comment on my last video that I wasn't expecting, but made me smile. Your video on Tyler the Creator really helped me reflect on myself and my self-hatred for the color of my skin. Growing up around predominately white kids and only having white friends, I've always felt like I don't act black enough or straight enough, and I had to really consider who am I acting for in the first place? like where's the stage? So, your videos have been helping me grow into myself and who I want to be, not who I should be. Did I do that? My video did that for real?

[00:45:11]That's awesome. We know that invalidating other people's blackness is wrong. So, we also need to recognize that we can't wait for other black people to validate our blackness either.

[00:45:18]They don't have the power to invalidate or validate your blackness because no one does. This expectation for other black people in black spaces to affirm your blackness is impossible when you haven't even begun to do that work for yourself. And again, it's an unfair double standard. Walking into a space expecting it to be welcoming and accepting because it's black is setting it up for failure, especially when you don't expect that from predominantly white spaces. One black person doesn't smile at you at an event and you're thrown off for the rest of the night.

[00:45:45]But you go to a white event and no one calls you a slur and you're riding high for the rest of the night. We expect black spaces to be warm, welcoming, and affirming while accepting the absolute bare minimum from white spaces. When I go out, I hope, but I do not expect that every black person I encounter will be a safe haven for me. But I do make sure that I am that safe space for them and for myself. So, another important question to ask yourself is this. Am I that accepting and safe space for other black people that I expect them to be for me? If not, why do you expect others to do that for you when you aren't extending it yourself? I think when we recognize this pattern, we can start to approach black spaces and ourselves with more grace and understanding. I I just have to say this. I have to find a way to say this. The idea that black people are unaccepting and unwelcoming is the craziest I've ever heard in my life.

[00:46:29]Like I have had negative experiences with black people like I've had with any group of people, but my experiences with black people have overwhelmingly been that of acceptance and love and understanding. And to see people get on the internet and spread this narrative about them being inherently unwelcoming and judgmental and all these negative things because they can't take a second to be introspective about what they're bringing to the table, about their insecurities, about how they navigate through the world. So they just project that onto black people, people that look like them, people who suffer like them.

[00:47:00]It is really disgusting and it really upsets me because it's like and it's so normalized because of the internet.

[00:47:04]There's no need to reflect because you find a group of people who are telling you like, "No, yeah, black people are the villains. Black people are the reason you don't you don't feel right.

[00:47:11]You know, white people actually are more accepting.

[00:47:17]The original title for this video was the dangers of being black in suburbia.

[00:47:21]Despite being discarded, dehumanized, and tokenized, a lot of us survived our upbringings in suburbia. But seeing the ones who didn't will always haunt me. In the middle of writing this script, I became aware of the passing of Nolan Xavier Wells. May he rest in peace. He was last seen at a Fourth of July party with friends before going missing, but his friends don't remember anything, and law enforcement conjectured that there was no foul play after only a few days.

[00:47:45]I was already planning to talk about DaVon Flanigan because his and Dominic Russo's deaths have been weighing heavily on me since watching the Netflix documentary about their murders, but hearing about Nolan genuinely felt like a gut punch. Nolan's passing has revived the discussion around the case of Tama Horseford, who also lost her life under mysterious circumstances. while the rest of her white peers made it out without a scratch or a clue as to what happened to their friend. These stories genuinely haunt me and my heart breaks for the families affected. So, out of respect, I don't want to dwell on them for too long or speculate on what happened. That is not my place. I'm sharing their names and faces to honor them, and I only bring these stories up because they are sobering reminder that the challenges and dangers of suburban life for black people go beyond the social and emotional. They can be deadly. So, if you are in a position to donate at this time, DaVon's family has a scholarship fund you can contribute to that will be linked in the description below.

[00:48:40]I tried to write this video with the belief that a lot of people are unconscious of these narratives and biases, but I also cynically believe that this is where a lot of people want to be ruminating, rationalizing, and resenting, you know, but then again, that could be the negativity bias creeping in. But I also know that there are a lot of people like that commenter who genuinely want to reflect and do better. So, I want to end this video on a lighter note and give some actionable guidance. I think another big issue is that instead of finding the black people you do have similar interests and values with, a lot of us keep inserting ourselves in spaces where we have nothing in common but our skin color and ultimately being disappointed. We may be consciously expecting a different outcome, but subconsciously we're just reopening old wounds and confirming our biases that justify the disconnect. So instead, try to find the black people who have similar interests and quirks as you instead of forcing connections with people just because they are black. You may have been the only black kid in your school who liked anime, K-pop, Paramore, skating, heavy metal, etc. I doubt it, but it's possible. But as an adult, try exercising your agency to find the other black people with those interests. They are out there, trust me. Especially in the age of the internet, even if you can't find them in your community, like going online and seeing that these people exist can be really comforting.

[00:49:51]So try that. It's important to remember that solidarity with other black people doesn't require that you be best friends with all or most of them or have the same hobbies and interests. To me, solidarity is simply being a soft place for others to land because we know those spaces are so far and few in between for us. If we all start to be that safe space for each other, they will be less rare. So, do your best to be that soft place and space for others. Or at the very least, try not to be a dangerous one. That is going to do it for today's video. If you made it this far and this resonated with you, let me know in the comments below. I would love to hear your thoughts. This was a harder one to get through. It was interesting to like process some of the things I've gone through in my experience as a person who is black in suburbia, you could say. But there was also heavier moments and seeing the real life ramifications of this was a little difficult. But if you want another video like this, check out my video on Tyler the Creator and this one on how no one is blacker than a white person who does the bare minimum.

[00:50:44]Again, please consider donating to the DaVon Flanigan Scholarship Fund if you can. But either way, if you enjoy this video, make sure to like, share, and subscribe. Thank you to my lovely patrons as always, and I will see you guys in the next one. Bye-bye. Well, also my other thoughts will be on Patreon. If you want to hear me yap about Love Island, more thoughts on Black and Suburbia, go over to the Patreon. I'll see you there. Bye guys.