Packaging and Selling the African American Experience: Working While Black between MLK and Feb. 28th

On January 17th of this year, I was asked to do a twenty minute presentation at a Synagogue with a Jewish Reform congregation. This was not such an unusual request.

I often joke that between MLK Jr. day and the end of February, even people who didn't know they wanted any kind of performer discover they desperately need a black one.

When I first started performing, October and February would pay for the entire year. I could make about fifteen to twenty thousand dollars in each of those months.

Now, the folks at this synagogue are local to my home, so a goodly number of the adults and children have encountered me in our community at the schools, at author presentations, or at local festivals. I am not an unknown quantity to them, and they only thought of having me come because they were trying to figure out a way to cap their day of mitzvahs.

I was honored to be considered, but the request for what type of program I was to do was both typical and a little frustrating.

They wanted me to come and do 20 minutes on the African American experience.



This is typical, because apparently that is what is supposed to happen between MLK Jr. Day and February 28th in our country. For those who don't know, February is Black History Month.

I have no beef with black history month. In fact, I'm all for it. When I went to school, I didn't know anybody but old white guys had a hand in building our nation. Talking about slavery was uncomfortable. We learned statistics about slaves, and I think somebody mentioned something about Harriet Tubman and George Washington Carver, but that was about it. Oh, Martin Luther King, we heard about him too.

Madam CJ Walker
First African American
Millionaire. Inventor

These days, kids in America spend an entire month learning about black engineers, doctors, inventors, politicians, pioneers, soldiers, and such like.

I occasionally encounter bitter people who lament that there is a women's history month, Native American Month, Hispanic History Month, African American History month, and so on, but there is no white history month. For anyone who has ever expressed this sentiment I humbly submit to you that pretty much every month is white male history month, it's just that on special months kids are encouraged to learn about some of the other people who also had a hand in creating our country.



That is neither here nor there. No, the big question is how do you present the African American experience in America?

I have no idea.

First of all, I didn't actually grow up in America. I grew up in South Korea.



I didn't grow up on 'the economy' - which is what we army brats call anything that isn't on a military base.

I grew up on military bases until I was in seventh grade.

I grew up in majorly multicultural, multi-ethnic neighborhoods, schools, and communities.

The first time I ever witnessed kids separating themselves by color in a lunch room was on my first day of seventh grade in Lawton, Oklahoma. Talk about culture shock!

I grew up on military bases in four different states and three countries.

I grew up with a high ranking military father on military bases where rank was important.

I grew up with a really diverse group of friends. At no point were all of them the same general color or from the same general part of the world...even in Lawton, Ok!

I grew up in a family with three adopted Amerasian siblings

From left to Right: My nephew John, slightly behind and above him is my brother Joseph, (Jaslyn's dad) slightly below him, my mother, next to her my sister,Annie (John and Jeremy's mom), my brother Don, my sister Duyen, My dad, my brother Milton, my brother Darren. The little guy in the black and white sweater is Jeremy, my new husband David is on his left, I am seated, and I have Jaslyn on my lap. (This was twenty years ago, we've added quite a few folks to our family since then)

I spent a big chunk of my childhood surrounded by heavily armed men.

I spent a big chunk of my childhood living in countries where I could just barely communicate with a majority of the people around me.

I was in the first integrated class to graduate from my high school in Indiana in 1984.


I was the first person of color to win a small scholarship from the Optimist club in 1983 in Indianapolis, Indiana.

I lived near Indianapolis when its motto was, 'Keep Indianapolis Lily White'. It was what they called their beautification program back in the '80s, and they justified the slogan by pointing out that Eli Lilly pharmaceuticals has their national headquarters in Indy.

The seeds of the Klan run deep in Indiana, and it is a touchy subject.

I attended Northwestern University.

I was in the first integrated international tour of Wiley and The Hairy Man in 1990. (Linked to a recent production, not the one where I played mammy.)

Depaul University

I married a Jewish man.

I am a Unitarian Universalist.

When my daughter was little she looked Asian, and people often asked me who she actually belonged to or if I were her nanny or babysitter.




My son is attending university for graphic design.

My daughter is currently in a boarding school for kids gifted in science and math.

I'm a professional storyteller and author.

My husband is my business manager/agent.

That is my African American Experience.

Being black does not mean you are having some kind of monolithic experience that all black people have. It might mean that you are more in tune with random, difficult, morale sapping, injustice that takes a toll on African Americans in general. Luckily, lots more voices are beginning to speak out against these cultural and social soul killers.


Being pulled over by the police.

Being followed around in a nice store by someone because they aren't sure black people should be shopping in nice stores.

Being give a harsher sentence or punishment than a white counterpart for the same infraction because...that's just how it is.

Being steered into a higher risk loan.

Being turned down for a job interview because of your name.

I was once discriminated against in a housing situation. It happened to David and I when we lived in Chicago. I went with David to look at an apartment he and his friends were trying to rent. The renters took one look at me and made some excuse about why the couldn't rent the apartment to Dave and his friends. They filed a complaint, the city checked on the complaint, found that the couple was indeed discriminating and Dave and his friends were given a small settlement. First and last time that ever happened to me...though it didn't actually happen to me, just because of me.

My daughter and her new
favorite sweatshirt

My mother always told me that if I wanted to succeed in life I would have to be twenty times better than any white person just to be given a shot at what 'they' take for granted as a given. Is that true? I don't know, but I try really hard not to have to find out by putting my best foot forward as often as I can.


When I am asked to give presentations on the African American Experience, I suppose I could stand up and rant and rave about how many things are still wrong in this country, and that it shouldn't be this hard to just go about your life while black, but I don't, because to tell you the truth, my life has been pretty remarkable, fun, and exciting, and wouldn't I be some kind of hypocrite or ungrateful fool to pretend it hasn't. No, I end up giving the history of the stories I'm telling, and explain how the choices made in our country shaped the way African Americans told and shared stories in the oral tradition.  I make allusions to the fact that if we understand our history, it helps put in context why we are still struggling with the biases and injustices that still plague our country, but I don't bring my soap box to a show.



That's pretty much all I've got when it comes to presenting the African American Experience in America.

As we go into the future, it would be cool if the 'othering' of our neighbors was not such a given. We each have our own experiences. Those experiences shape us, mold us, determine who we are, but they don't give any of us the right to speak for every African American, Hispanic American, Muslim American, Sikh American, middle class American, poor American, Caucasian American, Japanese American...the list goes on and on...in the country.

So, if you happen to be black during the next month and a half, share stories, start conversations, spread knowledge, and don't let anyone tell you what is true of all African Americans, or anybody else for that matter.

If you don't happen to be black during the next month and a half, share stories, start conversations, spread knowledge, and don't let anyone tell you what is true of all African Americans, or anybody else for that matter.

Happy Sharing!

Black Enough

You must be this color to go on this ride

Okay, so David, my husband and manager, got a call from an elderly lady.

"I'm looking for Donny Washington.  Is she there?"

 "Do you mean Donna Washington?"

 "I'm looking for the entertainer."

"Well, there's a Donna Washington and she's a storyteller."

"Yes.  That's who I mean."

She'd called in order to book me into some schools for February.

They discussed everything important in booking a show regarding the ages of the students, the dates and times, and the price for the sets.  Right before she hung up she said, and I quote:

"Just one last question.  Is she black?  I'm doing this for Black History Month, so she needs to be black."

My husband assured her that I was definitely black, and then they said their goodbyes.  He was very amused.

I often joke that when I started out in this business, February paid for the whole year.  I made as much money in February as I did the rest of the year because during Black History Month, even if people had never even considered hiring a performer, they suddenly needed a black one.

I had a friend who once said she didn't think it was fair.
"We have black history month.  We need a white history month!  We don't have a month when we are in demand!"

I always laughed that off, but what I could never bring myself to tell her was that every single month in America is white history month.  Most of the monuments, almost all of the street names, most of the city names, most of the landmarks in our country, most of the statues honoring brave people, most of our politicians, and the bulk of our textbooks are dedicated like a laser beam on the accomplishments and contributions of white Americans.  This should not be a surprise.  For much of the history of America, they were the only ones society as a whole was allowed to acknowledge when it came to great things.  Nobody else really mattered in this particular scheme.  It was a very particular story that was being told, and it wasn't very multicultural.

  I didn't learn about black people in history except for Martin Luther King Jr, Frederick Douglas and George Washington Carver.  I didn't learn about any Asian Americans, Latin Americans, or many famous women in school either.  As far as I knew, there were only three black people, no Asian people, no people of Hispanic descent, three caucasian women ( Betsy Ross, Florence Nightingale, and Susan B. Anthony), and only one Native American woman who'd ever done anything noteworthy in American history.  (If you guessed that the Native American woman was Pocahontas, you guessed right!)  I grew up not knowing that our country was built on the back of a rainbow of people.  Nobody ever told me.  Well, actually, now that I think about it, I also learned about Sacagawea.

Pocahontas

These days things are different.  We are getting better about acknowledging our past...we still have problems with it and we are in no way comfortable with our history, but we are trying.

I'm glad we have African American History Month.  It kept me in rice and rent back when I was a new storyteller.

These days February doesn't play as prominent a role in the year as it once did, but I still make a small bank that month.

Is it still PC to say black?  I have no idea.  I'm not sure who is being offended by what at any moment and frankly, I don't have the energy to check most days.  Aren't we 'People of Color' now or some such thing?  Not sure that it matters, just thought I'd bring that up.

I supposed I could go on and on about how race is a human construct; we are all the same where it counts; and this nonsense about color and tribes has caused so much trouble between people who really ought to get along, but there is no point in rehashing philosophies about that here.  It can be read in many other places on the web with far more eloquence than I have at my disposal this evening.

Still, if we, as a country are forced to spend twenty eight days each year focusing on the contributions of African Americans, it doesn't seem like that is such a terrible thing.

Then again, perhaps my point of view on this whole subject doesn't really matter.   A casual observer might note that I am a tad bit on the biased side.  After all, I would definitely be considered - as my husband assured the lady booking the show - black.

Happy History!