'Get Out' and questions about identity

On Saturday I went to see the movie "Get Out." The movie has received rave reviews and after viewing it, I understand the hype. The movie takes a deep look into the part race plays in a so-called post racial society.

While I found the reveal of the actual horror element to be shocking and cringe inducing, it is the racial elements that had a heavier impact on me. Even four days later I cannot shake some of the feelings the movie brought up in me.

While there were many scenes I had a hard time reconciling, the scene where Chris is being interrogated by the members of the Armitage family's community was the most unnerving for me. The constant barrage of intrusive and sometimes embarrassing questions along with unneccessary commentary about their favorite African Americans was enough to make me feel uneasy and sick. 

I have been the focus of one of these intrusive interrogations, but as a biracial woman, I find these questions coming from both the white and the black community. The commentary range from mildly unsettling to downright offensive. 

The first time I realized that being biracial wasn't normal was in first grade. We were asked on a form to identify our race and I remember checking off both black and white, since, in my head, this was the accepted answer. My German born teacher came to me and whispered that I could not in fact check both that I had to choose one based on the race of my father. I took the moment to ask her that if my father were white, would that make me white. In her frustration, she snapped at me and said that I needed to check black since black is what people would always see. I felt hurt by her reaction but I checked off the box for black and kept the pain to myself. From that day forward, as far as the school system was concerned, I was a black woman. This remained the case until I was 16 when a classmate asked me if I was ashamed of my white heritage and if I wasn't why did I deny it. I had never considered that by identifying as African American that I was denying the part of me that isn't. 

The harshest questions in my life have come from African Americans. At 15 a classmate once asked me what it was like to grow up with a white mother as opposed to a black one. I informed her there was no way for me to make that comparison since I didn't have a black mother to begin with. The answer didn't seem satisfactory to her, but I really didn't have a better answer. For many African Americans I am not black enough. I am often mistaken for a Latina, which only further frustrates people when I cannot speak any Spanish. When I identify myself as African American, I am often told that I'm obviously not "all black" and that I must be "mixed with something." I have spent my life trying to qualify and quantify my blackness to the people who I should have to do this with the least. At the same time, when I dated a white guy in high school, it was black women who were the most up in arms about my decision. It became so unbearable I broke up with him just to stop hearing the nasty comments.

On the flip side, white people haven't been any less offensive or intrusive. The question "What are you?" has come from the most well-meaning white people. I know they mean to ask what nationality or what racial heritage I identify myself as, but asking "what are you?" makes me feel like I'm not human. How can being biracial take away my humanity?  On top of this white people often inform me that I'm not like "most black people" in particular I'm not like "most black women." My college education, being able to speak articulately, and not fitting the "stereotypical" image of loud aggressive black women makes me an anomaly to a lot of well-intended but misinformed white people. 

"Get Out" asks people to really take a look at themselves and their inherit biases and misconceptions about race in this country. Only through overcoming our own prejudices can we hope to ever heal the division that plagues this nation. I only hope those of us in the middle can foster some of that unity.