Vicissitudes Weekly

"My colleagues call them “animals.”…If only the white man could recognize what need really looks like.”

Kim Green’s Jahn from Vicissitudes

The word “animal” has been associated with men of color for as long as white men enslaved them. Black men in particular have lived with this label and the humiliating white gaze that goes with it for centuries. 

The evidence exists in lopsided incarceration rates, disparities in sentencing, an expensive and expanding prison industrial complex, educational shortfalls in underserved communities, and most notably, blatant police brutality. On one hand,  Black men are showcased as icons of physical and athletic prowess, but more often dismissed as scapegoats and objects of disdain and blame. 

In Vicissitudes, Jahn is a Black man, invisible; left on his own with deep fears of joblessness and ostracism that many men of color face. Not to mention Black transmen. Hiding so much of who he really is, leaves Jahn adrift. He has never been able to disclose his trans status, nor do his colleagues know that despite his lighter skin tone, he sees himself as a Black man, the same as the young men on his team, those otherwise known as “the animals.” Jahn is torn, not only with the need to correct those who think this way, but torn inside with his own transition and the full implications of his Black maleness. At his core, he sees that being a Black man is in itself an undue struggle.  

The instinct to dehumanize Black men has, unfortunately, become America’s most unfortunate habit. The language of dehumanization is subtle but stings deeply. Imagine Jahn’s reality as a transmasculine man who is stepping over the threshold of manhood only to find he is someone that mainstream society reviles.  

Jahn says…”if only the white man could recognize what need really looks like.”  

What Jahn is thinking at this moment is that perhaps if white men (the mainstream) knew the heart,  the rage and the soul of the Black man in America, they would be able to see their humanity. 

And to those who gasp at this statement, I ask you to think of what is in your mind when you think about Black men. Do you admire their physicality? Their ability to run, jump and sink basketballs? Do you worry that perhaps your own daughter would see more than you do and even fall in love with a Black man? Can you stretch further to think that one day she may come home with a Black transman? Do you ever think of the torture, disenfranchisement, indignation and sorrow that the Black man in America carries?  Can you consider that when blinded by your own bias, you miss the opportunity to see the intellect, depth, and brilliance of Black men. Perhaps if the white gaze could see past prejudice, they would no longer indict, baselessly. African American men are human and whole.

When writing Vicissitudes, I wanted Jahn to be a symbol of an evolved Black man who has refused to abandon his humanity, softness or grace. He is a man of strength, grit, intellectual curiosity and deeply held emotions, he is the coming of the new evolved Black man who walks beside you on the street. He sits next to you in a coffee shop, he cares about his children, he helps your mother across the street. Within him there is honor and goodness.

He is all of those things and has always been.  

Open your eyes. 

Let love transform.

 

KG

Follow me on social media:

Instagram: @KimGreenAuthor

Twitter: @KimGreenWords