The Biracial Perogative


Just finished watching Celeste and Jesse Forever and not only does the movie suck ass on an almost cosmic level, there’s also the troubling little issue of Rashida Jones playing a white girl.

And this is where foreknowledge on things artistic can be a detriment because had I not known that Rashida Jones was not a white girl, I might have enjoyed the movie more. It’s doubtful that I would have, but I might have.

Then again, a troubling sensibility that I inherited from mom’s side of the family is that I can always tell when somebody has “some Black” in them.

Case in point, porn star with the miraculous bubble ass, Jada Stevens, is Black somewhere. I can just tell. If I’m wrong, Jada, sue me for slander. But it’s the features; and not just the bubble.

And I know I’m a hypocrite, not because I’m one of those arbiters of Blackness that sticks to the letter of the law and maintains that, like the law says in some states explicitly, everybody with at least one Black great grandparent is legally Black, but because I pick and chose which self-adaptation I honor.

Muhammad Ali is Muhammad Ali to me but Kareem Abdul-Jabbar is Lew Alcindor. Barack Obama is Black but Tiger Woods is anything else, really, anybody that wants that nigga can have him.

RuPaul can make his own call but Caitlyn? No way, Bruce.

And this is not fair.

But the effort to escape ourselves has become epidemic. Not only does everybody want to be someone else, but we’ve gotta remember all those new somebodies and respect them immediately or else we’re fucked up. Even good, old-fashioned racism and homophobia has lost its edge.

And I can’t even imagine what it’s like to be biracial. On the one side, you inherit a sinister, criminal potential for thuggery, brainless violence, gangsterism, sexual wantoness, and imbecility, then there’s also your Black side to deal with.

Rashida Jones, daughter of Black musician Quincy Jones and which ever particular white chick he was fucking with during his career of fucking with nothing but white chicks, chose to go the white girl route at least for this particular movie. She’d been Black as Tracy Morgan’s wife in Cop Out.

What I think was interesting was that she allowed Andy Samberg, the Jesse to her Celeste, to be the Jew that he is.

Whiteness being, like all things imaginary, very strict about its parameters, never fully accepted the Jews, even though it took in both the Italians and the Irish in 1924.

And again I’m weird. If a biracial person tells me they’re Black I Soul Brother them to death, no questions asked. If they tell me they’re white, I treat them like a white person.

In one scene in the movie Rashida as Celeste goes to a masquerade party dressed in a garbage bag. Her costume? (drumroll) White Trash.

In another scene, and trust me, they mostly blended together like the days in a man’s life before he comes to the conclusion that yes, suicide is his best option, Rashida as Celsete said that a particularly ghetto-sounding word seemed like it could have been the name of a cousin.

So maybe she wasn’t playing a white girl. Maybe she was playing at having no race at all.

Wonder how the men she dated after Jesse would have reacted to discovering¬†that she was a N—, not a white girl.

Because all the men she dated after Jesse were white. And even if you aren’t what you eat you certainly are who you fuck.

About the Author


Dickie Bhee is a self-styled lunatic, a Renaissance showman, a Class A, Grade A buffoon, a nigga that believes in the greatness of Niggerhood a social gadfly and a genuine Man About Town.

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