Heaux Confessionals: The SINtroduction | Chapter 4 - Black & White in Europe (In Black & White)

~ CHAPTER IV ~

What is it really like to be black in Europe? If you’re black and visiting Europe, you will not get a sense of how Europe truly is. If you are a visitor, you will be adored and fawned over like a mythical creature. You will receive alot of attention just because of the color of your skin. If you go out, you may find that you don’t ever have to worry about anyone paying attention to you. If you are not considered attractive in your homeland, in Europe you will notice a marked difference.

But every fairytale must come to an end.

When you live in Europe, this fabled existence gets real old, real quick. I cannot even tell you how many times people have just reached out and touched me on the streets. They try to take my photograph on the train. And why?

Simply because of my physical appearance, the hue of my skin. You get treated like less than human. It’s akin to a petting zoo. But even for a zoo, you usually have to pay an admission fee. Keep in mind that aside from a select few mainstream commercial events, I am, by and large, an underground performer. So people have seen my shows in many countries in Europe, but I am hardly famous, so there is no reason to take my photo on the streets to document me like I’m an exhibit. I don’t allow people on the streets to take my photo. It’s that simple. If I ever become rich and famous, they can click all the fuck they want. But for now?

Hell to the naw!

They stare. Not look. Not glance.

Stare.

Every day, from the moment I leave my flat until the time I return to it, I cannot go anywhere or do anything without someone staring at me. For the most part, I block it out. I wear sunglasses day and night so no one will see where I am looking. But sometimes it’s difficult to block it out when someone is directly in front of you staring. You feel very self-conscious. If they are too close to me, sometimes I ask “Can I help you?” Some of my European acquaintances think it is cool to be photographed and stared at on the streets, but I sure as hell don’t. It all goes back to treating others as you want to be treated. Germans, in particular, will stare at you so long that sometimes I have figured something must be on my face to warrant such extended gazes. But after a while I finally figured out the equation: The less German you look, the more they stare.

The objectification is off the charts. My book is titled Heaux Confessionals in part as a wink and a nod to Josephine Baker, who was one of my inspirations for coming to Europe. As a black American performer in France, she was marketed as an exotic creature, a chanteuse. As talented as she was as a singer and dancer, alot of clubs played up her physicality over her talent because they knew that Europeans wanted to lay eyes on something so rare to them. Josephine Baker was well aware of her physical prowess but she always excelled in her artistry at a time when black people were only given redeeming value if they were performing for white audiences. Decades later in Europe, not much has changed. I know I have been booked many times simply because of the color of my skin, simply because of the crowds it can attract. I also just happen to be good at what I do, so it is an added bonus for them.

Sustaining relationships is difficult anywhere in the world. In Europe, it takes on an added dimension of difficulty because they are not so inclined to believe that they live in a part of the world that is more racist than America. When I point out to Europeans that they are confusing their fewer cases of racism for less racism, it is always a point of contention yet I find it to be true. Of course Europe can claim it is less racist because they have fewer incidences of racist actions to report. But as I point out to Europeans all the time, their percentage of minorities is significantly less than the percentage in my country. Current estimates indicate less than 1% of the European population comprises people of color. Anywhere that I have lived in Europe, I can count on one hand the amount of black people I see in a week. Unless I am in London, Paris, Brussels, Amsterdam, Zurich (and a few other cities), I am not going to see a sizable amount of black people. This is part of the reason why I am treated like a unicorn in the first place.

In my experience, most Europeans are attracted to black people but don’t know how to treat them. They are usually attracted to the superficial aspects of you as a black person, which you have no control over whatsoever. In my experiences, it only goes so far until it reaches what I term ‘the point of disconnect’. That’s the point at which no matter how you try to explain it, they just don’t get it. I have lost friendships with Europeans who refuse to believe or even listen to what I have to say regarding my treatment in Europe. They always seem to want to blame the incident in question on anything other than the elephant in the room. Maybe it was what I was wearing? My hair perhaps? I possibly misunderstood?

Because surely it was not the color of my skin. Because Europe is not racist, you see. That’s distinctly American.

As far as sex goes, it is easy to come by if you are black in Europe. Anyone of color in Europe can have an abundance of suitors. I have seen black people that I would consider butt ugly have hot suitors simply because of the color of their skin. After living in Spain and then Germany, I became quite selective with my partners because the majority were not looking for anything serious and so I decided that it was going to be purely physical, then I wanted the best specimens on the market. Two can play that game. If I was going to be treated like a piece of meat, I was only going to share this slab with those worthy enough.

The black communities in Europe are disjointed. As a black American in Europe, I truly am the minority, because most black people in Europe are not from America, but African. What I have noticed (and what other black Americans living in Europe have also noticed and expressed to me) is that Africans do not usually interact with African-Americans. I notice in Germany, Afro-Germans keep their distance from black Americans and from one another as well. Coming from a country that stresses black unity and strength in numbers, it is disconcerting and shocking to say the least. But after living in Europe for so long I have come to understand it. For Africans, African-Americans are not considered Africans. I agree with that, because aside from the color of our skin, we have no other unifying theme, which Europeans of white descent generally fail to recognize. My experience with black Germans is that to me, it seems as if they are conditioned to not acknowledge their blackness. When they attempt to, then they are not considered German. But therein lines the conundrum, because white Germans don’t consider anyone that is not white as truly German. The few black Germans that I do have as friends prefer to identify more with their absent American father than their German lineage because they feel more accepted by this side of their family. Whenever I teach Afro-German children, they always exhibit signs of social interaction problems because they are treated as outsiders by other white German kids even though they are just as German as they are...but not.

In America, I was called the word nigger twice in my life. And this coming from a black man that grew up in the south. In Europe? I have lost count of the times I have been called the word nigger. And I have been called the word in various settings from train rides to the workplace by my boss. In Europe as a person of color, there is no NAACP to report incidences like this to. Businesses don’t have a division in human resources that handles situations like these. Therefore, you are more or less on your own in dealing with racist actions like this. I remember once when I was attacked by the police in Germany and I ran to one of my lawyers (I had three there) fuming. She told me that I could go to the court and possibly even win but the offending officers would only get a slap on the wrist and I would be out of a considerable amount of money. It takes a thick skin to live in Europe as a black man and I don’t advise it for everyone.

I’m not just a freak in the boudoir

how dare you forget each and every room?

where your screams muffled as if in impending doom

when I laid it on thick

and kept it out later

hit it so good

that you give up the paper

“Don’t ask me a loaded question if you can’t handle the pearl necklace reply!”

(Heaux Confessionals, verbal slap #67)