Taye Diggs on Racial Identity

Taye Diggs’ brave defense of his half-white son

Actor and singer Taye Diggs might be black, but he wants folks to understand that his son, Walker, isn’t — at least not entirely. That’s the message he’s been shopping around as part of a tour to promote his new children’s book, “Mixed Me.”

The tome is both inspired by and intended for kids like 6-year-old Walker, whose mother — Diggs’ former wife, Idina Menzel — is Caucasian. As Diggs sees it, Walker isn’t black, he’s biracial. And both whites and blacks seem equally invested in denying it.

A similar situation befell President Obama — whose mother was white and who decided early in his career to opt in to blackness at the expense of his white half.

Diggs’ decision to embrace his son’s biracial identity is brave — particularly for an African-American. For while America’s “one-drop” rule may have been established by white segregationists, it’s often been embraced by blacks themselves.

Stung by racism and seeking political potency (and safety) in numbers, blacks want to keep as many folks in their fold as possible — all black, half-black or whatever. How else to explain why black leaders were some of the most vocal opponents of the introduction of a “multi-racial” category in the 2000 US Census?

Then there’s the common black contention that all African-Americans are of “mixed” ancestry as a result of miscegenation during slavery. That might be true, but Diggs is speaking of his son being “biracial” — not “multi-racial”; his book focuses on kids whose parents are of two entirely different races, not mixes of many.

For whites, meanwhile, “one drop” helps them do what they’ve always done best — protect their privilege by any means necessary. To them, it’s not so much about who is Caucasian, but rather making it clear who isn’t. This is where “one-drop” comes in — to shut their biracial brethren out of the cultural, historical and economic benefits of whiteness.

Diggs is challenging both of these sentiments and should be applauded for doing so — particularly with nearly 7 percent of Americans describing themselves as mixed-race, according to a June Pew Research study.

No one is suggesting children like Walker should be described as white. But Diggs rightly demands that it’s time folks stop denying that his son is, ultimately, as much white as he is black.

Or, perhaps, even more so — I know from personal experience.

For the first four decades of my life I assumed my genes were equally derived from my white Jewish mother and African-American dad. Sure, like most black families, we knew history had “whitened” my father’s blood line. A great-great-grandfather, for instance, was an Irishman who had almost certainly married his slave (my great-great-grandmother) in antebellum Texas. But it wasn’t until I took the simple genetic test from 23andme that I found out just how whitened our family had become.

The test’s results ranged from the obvious — a predisposition for myopia and overeating — to the startling. For it turns out that genetically, at least, I’m actually 50 percent “more” white than black — 39.1 percent “Sub-Saharan African,” to be precise, compared to 59.1 percent “European.” My mom’s line, as expected, is pretty pure — virtually 100 percent Ashkenazi Jewish. But along with bits of Native American, my father was nearly 20 percent white — far more than we’d ever imagined.

Of course all of this data was just that — numbers and graphs and charts. As cases like Tamir Rice and Trayvon Martin illustrate, my 23andme test isn’t going to protect me from racist vigilantes or shield me from bigoted cops. Nor might my newfound “whiteness” exempt me from the history of injustice and inequality that continues to define much of the contemporary African-American experience.

But the results did upend many of the racial preconceptions that had guided my life, causing me — like Diggs — to further question the very notion of racial categorization itself.

Critics of Diggs have dismissed the actor as attempting to “deny” his sons’ blackness, which is both simplistic and untrue. Diggs hasn’t “invented” a white identity for Walker — he hasn’t had to, the kid’s mom is white. Rather, he’s demanding his boy be allowed to claim what is merely a biological fact.

Progressives of all colors insist they respect the right to ethnic self-determination — but that respect seems to wane when it comes to being biracial. In Obama’s case, “choosing” blackness probably helped simplify what was already a complicated and combative political journey. Saying he was “black” — no matter the half-truth — made it easier for Americans of all colors to contend with his historic candidacy. And with (sadly) none of his white family at his side to muddle the message, Obama’s “all-black” narrative was easy to maintain.

Two generations later, Diggs seeks to spare his son from a similarly small-minded fate. America may not yet be truly “post-racial.” But perhaps, as Diggs discusses, the country can begin to accept that biracials are here to stay.

dkaufman@nypost.com

Chocolate Me

Sitting in the waiting room at my doctor’s office, I picked up an issue of WebMD magazine. I quickly went through the pages, mostly paid advertising for drug companies, with the occasional article on “Living Healthy,” “Fitness & Exercise,” and healthy food and recipes.
Something caught my eye. It was a cartoonish character with a dark brown face, apparently the cover of a new book titled Chocolate Me! Huh? Of course, the book was written by a celebrity, actor Taye Diggs.

Chocolate Me!

Apparently, Diggs wrote it to build self-esteem in African American children. Good for him! But, it begs the question, “What about multiracial children?” If Diggs is talking about foods, what does that mean for multiracial kids? Carmel? Butterscotch? Light chocolate? What does it mean for White kids? White Milk? Vanilla anything? Asian bananas?
It immediately reminded me of the Kraft Foods character of MEL, who was a poor, confused multiracial MilkBite Granola Bar, but this one is Black. We complained about that ridiculous promotion on this blog.
Taye Diggs is promoting Chocolate Me? to a wider audience than blacks. His promotional hype states the following: “The title suggests it’s directed more toward African-Americans, but we‘re all in this together.”
Here is the Publishers Weekly review:
It’s tough being the only African-American kid on the block. The young narrator’s white acquaintances tease him ruthlessly about his name, his dark skin (“It’s brown like dirt. Does it hurt to wash off?”), his wide nose, and his ‘fro. It’s enough to make any kid wish he were just like everyone else—until Moms offers just the right kind of comfort: “You have skin like velvet fudge frosting mixed in a bowl…. Cotton candy hair soft to the touch of my fingertips.” The titular phrase is used like a refrain, initially a burden and later a celebration of self. Actor Diggs, making his children’s book debut, gives an unvarnished take on the emotional impact of taunting that cuts to the core of one’s identity, though not every reader will find satisfaction in the ending, in which the narrator is reconciled with his insensitive peers over chocolate cupcakes. But Evans makes the hero’s journey to confidence irresistible, with bighearted, stylized pictures that draw on the emotionally exuberant vocabulary of street art and anime. Evans doesn’t minimize the cruelty the boy suffers, but he makes it feel surmountable.
This book does belong in the kids section of our local book stores or libraries. No, it is not for every child of any race, ethnicity, or age. I recommend that you look at this book carefully and decide if the message is right for your children. It does talk about differences, values, and acceptance, so accept it for what it is—a book for African American children, and not all kids. 
Source: Susan Graham/Publishers Weekly/WebMD

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