After living in Taiwan for two years as an English teacher (from 04-06), I realized how much I not only broke many stereotypes of blacks (and Americans in general), but also became a much-needed ambassador for creating a broader image of African Americans. It was not a surprise how popular black culture was growing at the time—but what was shocking was the level of courage strangers had to ask me questions! Read the full story
I was talking to one of my best friends from high school, and she told me that she was annoyed with the students on the music committee for her community college graduation ceremony. She had suggested students walk across the stage to an inspirational Beatles song, Let It Be. My friend went to a school that was predominantly black in Maryland, so I immediately understood her peers’ reactions: “Who are they?!” “That song sounds stupid!” Read the full story
My father— a congo drummer himself—always introduced me to a lot of black music when I was growing up. To be honest, sometimes I really didn’t make it a point to pay attention and enjoy what I was hearing; when I was a teenager, if it wasn’t TLC, Mary J Blige, or SWV, I wasn’t that interested. Read the full story
Recently, I was thinking about skin color and how cultures everywhere still treat people differently because of it. When I was living in Taipei, Taiwan, women shrunk from the sun in fear of turning too dark and being seen as “low class.” Many girls get “double eyelid surgery” to have full eyes like Westerners. I always thought to myself “when are people going to stop basing standards of beauty on European features?” Read the full story
As a woman who grew up with a painter/percussionist for a father, I’ve always appreciated the arts. Recently I tried to think of some acclaimed black female visual artists—and I couldn’t think of one for our times. I know of a few black female artists personally who have been painting since the 50’s and 60’s—but they are mostly unknown in general. Then I tried to think of some women from the early 19th century and I could only think of black men (Henry Ossawa Tanner and Ellis Wilson). Read the full story
When I was in grade school, I always had butterflies in my stomach on the first day. Why? Because I was worried the teacher was going to butcher my name during roll call. I’m sure some of you can relate. You always knew when your name was about to be called because the teacher takes a long pause, and then there’s a look of panic on their face before saying, “Um…now, I hope I get this right…” Teachers called me “New-by-uh,” “Nuhh-be-ah,”and even “New-bah (totally forgetting the fact that there is an “I” before the “A” in Nubia). Giggling in the classroom always surmounted while I raised my hand, and said, “It’s Nubia (new-be-uh).” Read the full story
Four years out of college (and finally having most of my books in one place), I am rediscovering some of the great literature I was exposed to at Barnard. For one of my senior thesis classes, I took this amazing class, Black Images and Stereotypes in Literature and the Arts. A few months ago I was looking at my bookcase and came across an author we touched on briefly in class: Nella Larsen.
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It’s a shame most of us have never heard of Edmonia Lewis. She used her talent to replicate life through clay. In the 1840s she was born in a wigwam to a Chippewah woman and an African American man, she became an orphan at age four. Through the financial support of her older brother, Edmonia attended boarding school and was accepted to Oberlin College to study music in 1859. While there she endured some racial tension (and was later forced to leave Oberlin), but came out of that experience with a love for sculpture. She relocated to Boston to hone her talent. Read the full story
