I was born in 1976. Eight years later, I died. That’s because it wasn’t until I turned 8 that I began to care what others thought of me. When that happens, you can’t be your authentic self anymore. In other words, each of us died at some point in our childhoods.
But, of course, there is life after death. For all of us, this afterlife is an exercise in balancing self-identity with other’s perceptions of ourselves. We craft our appearances daily partly based on how we would like others to see and interact with us. Sometimes that means putting on a suit to play a professional. Other times that means pretending to be black.
Rachel Dolezal, the former head of the NAACP’s branch in Spokane, Wash., has been pretending for much of her life. Born white, she self-identities as black. To some people, this is a big deal. To others, big deal!
Let’s be clear about this: Dolezal is not black, no more so than I am Asian or a pelican or a unicorn. That would be crazy, right? Maybe. And maybe Dolezal is a bit mentally disturbed.
But that doesn’t seem the case to me. This issue is less about self-identification and more about wanting desperately to eat lunch with the popular kids. For Dolezal, the cool kids are black. If I look like them, I can be one of them.
Granted, most of us wouldn’t go to her extreme to mislead those around us, but it’s not as if her deception was meant to harm. Nor did it harm. Just the opposite, she has used her position to promote human rights and better race relations.
Still, she could’ve done all that without posing as a black woman—except no, she probably could not have. At least not the way she wanted to. While the NAACP claims it does not discriminate, let’s not compound Dolezal’s lie with another one about how the organization would’ve been equally as likely to hire her for her former position had she been white.
Dolezal’s lie is no more or less significant than the many harmless lies we all tell to get through life. Cut her some slack. To some degree, we are all Rachel Dolezal.
