I recently came across this question on Yahoo Answers:

Do black people like country music?
I would like to know do black people like country music because I love it but wanna know what others think because when I go to school kids laugh at me sometimes because I am black and like country music.
And I would also like to know is there anything wrong with me liking it I try to act like I don’t like it sometimes but what can I do I like it.

The things I would like to say to this young boy.

This question took me back to similar questions of my little mixed raced heart when I was an eighth grader, one of 12 girls at a Catholic school in a tiny little town. It was at the height of the “New Country” wave and I wanted to sing like Reba MacEntire

In 9th Grade, I was into Nirvana, Aerosmith and Pearl Jam like every other girl I went to school with.

At night I’d hang out in our rec room and play my dad’s old Carly Simon records. I gave my heart to Carly Simon and her folksy sound. She still has it.
It was right around this time I began to realize that some of my ’skin kin’ thought this was ’selling out’- to quote one of the more prominent boys of my youth- let’s call him Marc -”washed my walls white”

In fact, my memory is coming to me now- I recall the first moment it consciously dawned on me that some people thought there are racial lines to be drawn when it come to personal taste. I was 12 and at the mall with 3 of my girlfriends for what must have been the 4th time without constant adult supervision. My best friends at the time: Shannon, Irish through and through, and Chris and Jina, both Italian. As we walked, 4 boys – including the previously mentioned Marc, shouted out to me.

Most of the words that came through the air elude me now. I remember the essence of the call, the remarks “honey coloured skin” and the “baby girl” remain with me. I was shocked-because this was the first time a boy had shouted out to me – never mind four. So I blushed, embarrassed. And kept walking, looking to my friends for support, giggling a little. Then these word came flying at me

“so you like that white s**t eh? You’ll learn”

And an (unwanted) education began.

What can I say. Sometimes we do it to each other.

Recently I was asked by Charcoal Ink to comment on what I think about Black Beauty magazines. Her focus was the lack of natural hair in Black Hair Magazines, but one of her quesitons was “do I buy Black Hair Magazines like Pride?”

My Answer: Not that often.
Why not?:
They try to put a ‘black’ spin on things. I think this is the biggest problem with black magazines; they talk to their audience like they are black women, not just women. As if all black women think alike. Please! I recently read an article in a black magazine about the Angry Black Worker. That ‘others’ see us as angry if we don’t smile or engage with office banter, and that this stems from slavery and a misunderstanding of how black people behave. As if all of “us” go to work with scowls on our faces, demanding the world our dues. As if we can’t have real relationships with our colleagues who are from different backgrounds. As if we all behave in the same way. Sure we have shared ‘black’ experiences, but I am pretty sure that the way I am as a person differs greatly from Lil’Kim. Or from Paula, who works in my office in the Marketing department, has dreads, likes new age music, wears crystals and turquoise and is a vegan.

This is what I think of as the pressure to “represent” This pressure lead me to some wonderful music in my adolescence, like Billie Holiday, Erykah Badu, The Roots, the Fugees. But it also lead me to Snoop, whose lyrics are so vile when it comes to women that I am certain it contributed to the trouble I got up to.

The pressure to represent led me ( and many others of my middle class brethren) to “act black” which I tell you with no hesitation, meant reenacting exactly what was feed to us through the media. Biggie Smalls lyrics, Patra’s romantic calls, the video girls, all part of a sea of misdirection. And only Mrs.Huxtable to see me through.

Instead of inviting one into a culture, all it does is lock you out of all others. This is such a silly notion: You’re black therefore you must only like things made by black people.

Although I can’t say that these pressures don’t still affect me. Recently I discovered that Carly Simon’s mother was Biracial. I felt elated in knowing this information. Partly because I felt we shared something, but also because I suddenly felt justified in my love her. As if her ethnic background has anything to do with her talent. As if it suddenly gave me permission to… I’m not sure what exactly.

And just last week, whilst planning my yearly trip home to Canada, I saw that Aerosmith was going to be stopping their tour in Toronto at the same time I was home. It been a while since I’ve been in Canada, but the old rules started to come back and i immediately thought- I can’t go to that.

Then I stopped. Because of course I can. I can rock out to Sweet Emotion in a cowboy hat and biker boots if I so choose.

Last year I went to see James Taylor play in Hammersmith. I used to listen to his records on my dad old 3 speed record player, and love him almost as much as I love Carly Simon. I sat in a theatre with C and about 2000 other people. I was probably one of 5 people of any colourful background- and definitely the youngest one there. And I cried the whole time, it was so good.

I was being myself

That’s my point. If you want to drive a pickup and sing out loud to Stoppin’ Tom Conners- do it. It’s your life and it’s your time ticking away. Why waste it on silly things like “representing”. You are just one person. The only one like you in the whole world. Go ahead and line dance.

I came across this website over the weekend which illustrates my point to a fault. Put on some Carly and take a look through it.

Looking forward to the feedback.