Respectability is Out, Authenticity is In

Preparing the Next Generation Now That Affirmative Action has Ended

Sha’Carri Richardson is now one of the fastest girls in the world, and as a long-time resident of Dallas, Texas, and a graduate of an Oak Cliff, Texas, high school, it’s safe to say that she and I are basically homegirls. Wait, that is not true. The more honest assertion is that I probably would have never associated with her if I had grown up with her. Her hair would have been too ghetto bright for me; her accent would have sounded too urban unique; she would have been a bit too loud expressive. All in all, she’d just have been more ratchet outgoing than I’d have been comfortable with while growing up. She represents everything I was told not to be, so seeing her overcome the negative criticisms about her attire and personality is my favorite part of her success story. She is a healer for the little black girl inside of me who was instructed to withhold so much of herself for the sake of fitting in.

For many of us, notions of what is acceptable and professional (aka respectable) came from trusted members of our communities. These are church leaders, mentors, and parental figures all parroting how best to behave (especially in front of white people). The intent of this obsession with behavior is to protect us from being pre-judged and met with aggression. The impact of this policing of behavior is that we create intra-cultural hierarchies of who is worthy of representing us/success and who is not. Assimilating for me was always rewarded. I was often the favorite among my teachers and given preferential access to extracurricular activities my more assertive peers were not. I’ve always been complimented for having a “good attitude” - code for non-disruptive and docile. While I have reaped the benefits of my indoctrination, I cannot help but to think about how many people are harmed by my complicity in a system that requires conformity and punishes those who do not comply.

For example, when Sha’Carri did not perform well in the Olympics, she was chastised for still being confident in her ability to succeed in the future. The public demanded humility from her. People refused to empathize with the struggles she faced in her personal life and expected perfection from this young woman. And isn’t that really what makes respectability politics so dangerous? When people thrive outside of the fake parameters set by respectability, they are met with less grace. That is why we have to continuously side-eye ourselves and people in positions of power within our community who embrace code-switching for everyone. It is irresponsible of us to abandon our own and uphold white supremacist values.

As DEI efforts continue to be undermined and attacked, I worry for the new crop of black girls whose creativity will be stifled, whose voice will be silenced, and whose sense of self will almost always be challenged. They will miss out on opportunities for being “too much” because institutions of power are no longer required to see the value our experiences offer. While so much of Black culture is now mainstream, thanks to our music and style, most Black people cannot directly profit from that. We are still asked to speak a certain way and dress a certain way in an effort to achieve economic mobility. Mentors in our community will continue to encourage the next generation to buy into the idea that if they behave well, they will succeed. But while we cannot control legislative outcomes and prevent corporations from disintegrating their DEI departments, we, Black people, do not have to succumb to the narrative that there is a “right way” to behave, dress, or speak. 

We can create our own standard of care and expression for the young people in our lives and encourage their individuality. We can rear children to observe how adhering to the norm is in fact rewarded while also making it clear that there are ways to succeed that do not necessitate giving up so much of our essence. We should not encourage them to be in opposition to themselves or their culture. We owe it to them to make space for self-expression, even if it makes others uncomfortable. The beauty of Sha’Carri Richardson’s story is not just that she persisted both on and off the track; it’s that she stayed true to what felt most authentic to her when I am sure there were people in her corner advising her to “tone it down.”  Mikki Kendall said it best in her book Hood Feminism: Notes from the Women White Feminism Forgot: “If we admit that Blackness comes in many forms, that our culture is glorious and worthwhile; then we also have to face the fact we will never be able to achieve this mythical space where color doesn’t matter, where our class and culture is respected. We want a route to undo the impact of history and it simply doesn’t exist.” 

History has not been kind to Black people or people of color more broadly. I wonder what versions of a Sha’Carri Richardson exist in other cultures and if she is revered or judged for not being perceived as respectable. A predictor of success should not be how well one can hide what makes them distinct, even though we all feel the urge to be viewed favorably. Truthfully, we can not control how other people view us, but we can control how we view ourselves; we cannot trust our government to value us, but we can make it a point to value ourselves.