“My first identity is that I am a Christian.”

 

I am a child of the living God. Before I call myself a woman, an African-American, or any other identity marker that I may choose to describe myself, I must first say that I am a Christian. But the fact is my Christian identity intersects with the other identities God has given me. I am indeed an African-American – and that means something in our society. I am indeed a woman – and that also means something in our society. But I must always consider the meaning of these identities within the context of my identity as God’s child. In fact, my adopted status before God must shape how I define the other things that mark my identity in this world.

 

This was not always so for me. I lived in what I have come to call “the fringe”:  between two worlds and belonging to neither one. I grew up in a predominantly White neighborhood and consequently socialized mostly with Whites. But I also had the influence of my extended family confirming my heritage as an African-American – so I have always felt like this strange hybrid…like I have a split personality.

 

During my grade school years I began to see myself as “different”. I remember questioning why I didn’t look like everyone around me. I knew I was Black, but I certainly didn’t look like most other Blacks I knew. I have very fair skin, so there were times when people were not quite sure to what ethnicity I belong. I didn’t necessarily look Black; but I didn’t look White, either. So what am I, really? Now, this question has not been as much of an issue ever since I rediscovered my fro! So I look a little “Blacker” than I used to!

 

Throughout high school, the one group that felt the strongest about me were other Blacks. I was very shy, quiet, and withdrawn, and this was perceived as snobbery. Many thought “This girl thinks she’s too good for us! She must think she’s white or something!” These are things I have actually heard said about me. Consequently, I suffered the most ridicule and rejection at the hands of my own race.

               

Because I did not grow up in the Black community I was not considered a member of that community, and they were not afraid to tell me so. I was told I wasn’t “Black enough”. I was told I didn’t understand what it meant to be Black.  I didn’t listen to the right music, didn’t talk “Black enough”, I acted like a White girl…On the flip side of that, I was told by some Whites that I didn’t act like a “normal” Black person. At the time I couldn’t quite articulate it, but I knew there was an insult embedded in that statement somewhere! What did that comment say about the stereotyped view of Blacks that person held? I was denied the very thing that will remain constant and true in my life – I am a Negro!    

               

The only time in life where this was not the case was in college. When I entered the University of Illinois, I was faced with the choice of with whom I would identify. The racial climate on the campus at the time was very tense, and there was little interaction between races, especially between Blacks and Whites. The choice was implied, but clear: you either identified with Black students or White students. There was no crossover, no middle ground; and there was an unspoken rule that crossing over meant betrayal. You were ashamed of your racial identity and had “sold out”. So I bowed to the pressure and closed myself to anything other than a surface relationship with anyone who wasn’t Black. I hung out a one of the more militant Black groups on campus, one that wished for the return of the days of the Black Panther movement. I felt I had come to accept my true roots, and would find my place of belonging and acceptance. But if anything, I was more confused about who I was upon graduating college. None of my questions were answered, the most important being “what does it mean to ‘be Black’?”.

 

My life was turned upside down – or perhaps I should say right side up – when I “came to myself” and surrendered all to the Lord in March of 1999. The Lord pulled me out of my emptiness and confusion and gave me newness of life. But the issue of belonging was still there – this time as it pertained to His body, the church.