On the one level, double consciousness is just seeing oneself through two different perspectives, as he talked about African-Americans seeing themselves always knowing how white racists would see and interpret their actions, their dress, the color of their car, whatever, on the one hand. But also knowing, having access to their own perspective, their community perspective that provides some positive alternative in some way to deflect the white racist interpretations. So you had an internal perspective that was more reliable and an external perspective that you always had to negotiate and deal with.

Linda Martín Alcoff,
The UnMute Podcast Ep. 018

Today I listened to The UnMute Podcast’s episode with Linda Martín Alcoff on Whiteness. While I overall enjoyed the discussion, I had to pause for a moment to think about the above quote. Linda Martín Alcoff explained W.E.B DuBois‘ concept of the double consciousness of Black people, which she then applied to white people. It was the former idea that made me think.

I am sympathetic with the idea of a double consciousness with regards to the external perspective: That a Black person living in a white environment shaped by overt and covert racism is forced to reflect and anticipate how their actions might be seen and interpreted strikes me as evident, especially when I look at my own life as a Black person in the East of Germany. I am always incredibly aware of my behaviour and appearance, always trying not to fulfil negative stereotypes. For example, one can seldom see me without a book in the tram and I try to be on my phone as little as possible. After all, it’s another stereotype that I want to fulfil: That of the Well Read Black Girl. The more „serious“ and „prestigious“ the book, the safer I feel. It’s like a defence weapon, added to my armoury of „good clothes“, hoping that it will spare me from judging or disgusted looks, or rude treatment by the ticket controller. (A day where I leave the house without a book is a bad day.)

So I’m fine with one part of the double consciousness. What I am doubtful about is the other part, the internal perspective and especially with the claim that it would be more reliable. It certainly can be more reliable, but does not necessarily have to be so. I think that it can only be more reliable given that you have access to a community that helps you develop such an alternative, Black consciousness. But, having lived in isolation completely surrounded by non-Black people for most of my life, access to such a community is certainly not a given. I guess it was 2012 when I first got „real“ contact to Black people, via tumblr, most of them from the US or UK. Given the anonymity of the internet, the geographical distance and the difference of our life situations, I did not feel as if I was belonging to those Black communities. Eight years later, I listend to Tupodcast by Tupoka Ogette, a Black German Activist. In each episode of her podcast, she talks to another Black Woman, another sister, about being Black, being Woman, being German. While those talks were more relatable, they also made me incredibly sad: On the one hand, I could not recall when was the last time that I myself talked to another Black woman. On the other hand, many of her sisters live in Berlin or in other bigger cities in the West of Germany: they all had some kind of community and the feeling of loneliness and isolation nonetheless intensified. It was not until I became part of the BIPoC Student Group of my university that I truly felt a sense of belonging.

I don’t think that you can build a reliable internal Black consciousness in the absence of the relevant Black community. Reflecting on my experiences, my understanding of the world and myself remained heavily shaped by the white consciousness, which I did not put on and wear like a mask, but rather internalised. There was some kind of alternative voice that offered different takes on what was going on in myself and my life, but it was rather quiet and full of doubt. It was the white consciousness that I knew better, it was the white voice with which I thought and spoke more with. I barely explored the other one. (No wonder since I received no encouragement to do so from other Black people!) On the contrary, trying to employ the other voice in social interactions often caused more trouble than good. Since it was only inchoate and embryonic, it was hard to make its alternative interpretations intelligible, to others as well as to myself! (Seems like there is a lot of epistemic injustice at work.)

It has always troubled me how the existence of access to a Black community is taken for granted in Black (Feminist) thought, at least in the works that I read so far. It might make sense in the American context, but it cannot be easily applied 1:1 to Black people living in the German diaspora. Me being a Black Woman growing up without a father and with barely any access to the Black community is definitely not an exception – I know too many people who found themselves in the same situation. Yes, we did end up finding our place after a while. But I don’t think that we can take this for granted. For many of us this was due to lucky circumstances. The time prior to finding one’s community should not be excluded from (Black) philosophical thought: It raises questions about the possibility of identification, alienation, ignorance and access to alternative epistemologies or consciousnesses and it definitely has implications for upbringing and education and – on the long run – also for social change.

I hope to explore these issues more in the future.