Growing up Dominican, I was constantly exposed to messages that glorified white beauty standards and minimized the value of my Black identity. There is no doubt that diaspora has a complicated relationship with blackness and coloration. The pervasive influence of white supremacy was evident in every aspect of my life, from the media I consumed to the social expectations placed upon me. Although I adore my Blackness, the remnants of white supremacy exist deep in the fabric of who I am as a person. It took years of self-reflection to recognize the harmful impact of these beliefs and begin the process of unlearning white supremacy. So I decided to continue to strengthen my relationship with my badness by exploring how I subconsciously center whiteness and celebrate my blackness even more.
One of the most important steps in unlearning white supremacy was recognizing and challenging my own internalized anti-Blackness. As an Afro-Latina, society has conditioned me to see Blackness as something to distance myself from. But through education and self-reflection, I learned to honor and elevate the experiences of Black people in the Latino community and challenge anti-Blackness in all its forms.
In 2019, I started rejecting white supremacy, releasing the straight hair it had on me. I stopped straightening my hair and started learning and loving my natural texture. This may sound simple, but when you’re used to seeing a certain image of yourself, change can be uncomfortable and even destabilizing.
“I decided to continue to strengthen my relationship with my badness by exploring how I subconsciously center whiteness and celebrate my blackness even more.”
Annell Lopez
Society’s narrow definition of beauty and the media’s portrayal of Latinas as exclusively light-skinned and European had warped my understanding of what was desirable and acceptable. I grew up associating curly hair with a laissez-faire attitude. If I wanted to be seen as serious and intelligent, I had to straighten my hair. And if I wanted to feel my best, I had to straighten my hair, even if it was impractical, expensive and damaging. I didn’t always see curly hair as professional or even beautiful. Wearing my hair natural was something I did as a last resort when I couldn’t get to the nearest salon. It took me years to realize that to look stylish, I didn’t need to do anything different to my hair: No, I didn’t need straight hair to attend someone’s wedding or graduation or a job interview. My ability to look beautiful or sophisticated did not require me to spend hours in a salon changing, through chemicals and heat, the natural texture of my hair.
In addition to my hair and physical appearance, I embrace self-interrogation as a way to stay intentional about centering Blackness because I recognize that it’s not always intuitive. To deepen my relationship with my badness, I examine every aspect of my life through the lens of my Blackness and ask myself important questions: In what ways do I continue to assimilate into white supremacy? What parts of my black identity and culture have I forgotten to appreciate? What cultural traditions are rooted in erasing my Blackness to reinforce Eurocentrism? In what ways do I compromise and change codes to make my Blackness more palatable?
I also want to look back and ask myself: What historical figures have I not learned about? What literature, art and media do I not consume or support? Who are the unsung heroes in my community whose stories have been neglected because of their Blackness?
“In what ways do I continue to assimilate into white supremacy? What parts of my black identity and culture have I forgotten to appreciate? What cultural traditions are rooted in erasing my Blackness to reinforce Eurocentrism? In what ways do I compromise and change codes to make my Blackness more palatable?’
ANNELL LÓPEZ
In the tradition of Alice Walker, who helped bring awareness to Zora Neale Hurston, I want to use my time and resources to learn about the amazing Black people who have been left on the sidelines of Dominican and Latino history. I am committed to diving into books, documentaries, and online resources that highlight the contributions and struggles of Afro-Latinos.
In my practice at the center of Blackness, I have spent time learning about José Francisco Peña Gomez, Mamá Tingó, and Esteban Hotesse—historical figures who are central to the fabric of Dominican and US cultures, but who do not get enough recognition or recognition. Learning about these pioneers gave me a sense of pride and validation. I want to continue to discover the legacy of Afro-Latinos who have made significant contributions to art, literature, music, and social justice movements.
Unlearning white supremacy and embracing my Afro-Latino identity also gave me a sense of responsibility. I want to challenge the stereotypes and misconceptions surrounding Afrolatinidad and Blackness. For many blacks throughout the diaspora, anti-blackness, self-hatred, and even trying to “pass” seem necessary for survival. It’s important to approach this conversation with empathy and the understanding that most people want to live their most authentic lives, but society has conditioned them to internalize anti-Blackness as a way of coping.
“The practice of unlearning white supremacy as an Afro-Latina is ongoing. It requires constant self-reflection, education and a commitment to challenging the status quo. It means we recognize that unlearning white supremacy is not only about personal growth but also about collective liberation. “
ANNELL LÓPEZ
Part of my liberation and coping with white supremacy was making sure to discuss blackness and colorism at home with my family and also in my writing. In my fiction, I write about characters who question Blackness and embrace their Blackness with love and compassion for themselves and each other—something that doesn’t always come naturally to many of us who have been taught to favor, celebrate, and to hold in our proximity to whiteness. I focus on these topics in my writing because I believe I can add to this much-needed discussion. I have come to realize that this unlearning is not just about me. It also includes anyone affected by the vestiges of colonialism and white supremacy.
So far this has been an empowering journey. Today I proudly wear my curly hair without guilt or shame. I celebrate the Afrocentric elements of Dominican culture, our bachata and merengue, which have African roots. I celebrate the rich and colorful metaphors of my Dominican Spanish as well as its rhythmic rhythm. I read the works of Edwidge Danticat, Melania Luisa Marte, Elizabeth Acevedo, Cleyvis Natera, Kleaver Cruz, and Lorraine Avila. I actively seek to learn about Black history and continue to prioritize the visibility of my Black ancestors and contemporaries.
The practice of unlearning white supremacy as an Afro-Latina is ongoing. It requires constant self-reflection, education and a commitment to challenging the status quo. It means we recognize that unlearning white supremacy is not only about personal growth but also about collective liberation. There’s still a lot to learn and I’m looking forward to it.
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