Scholarly perspectives on the mixed race experience.
American Negroes were explicitly defined as hybrids of European, African, and in some cases Native American (then known as “Indian”) ancestry. As a result, among other things, skeletal and living Negro populations served as a historical record of social and sexual liaisons between blacks and whites in the United States. This particular biocultural interface was an integral part of framing studies that examined differences in skeletal morphology and phenotype between racial groups. At the same time, Negroes were also considered to be a biologically discrete racial group unto themselves. This “fact” justified the population being situated as an anatomical landmark of sorts for mapping and identifying distinct racial characters. This simultaneous construction of the American Negro as both a hybrid and racially distinct suggests that multiple definitions of race and understandings of racial difference were at work in constructing the American Negro as a research subject. This is not surprising when we consider that scholars involved in this work represented a variety of perspectives on human biological diversity. As such, this research can be considered a matter of “boundary work” in the midst of methodologies and subjects that cannot be easily or distinctly categorized (Lipphardt 2010). This also suggests that these studies must be considered within the larger context of bioanthropological interest in studying mixed-race populations to identify the source of biological change in humans. Scientists inside and outside of the United States engaged in research to determine whether or not this change occurred within populations by way of selection or solely by interbreeding with different groups.
Paul A. Kramer, Associate Professor of History Vanderbilt University, Nashville, Tennessee
This narrative piece, selected by The Best American Essays 2012 as a “notable essay,” tells the story of Rev. Jesse Routté, an African American Lutheran minister in New York who, in response to racist abuse during a 1943 trip to Mobile, Alabama, returned four years later disguised as a turbaned, Swedish-accented “foreigner.” When he reported positive treatment, it flaunted contradictions in Jim Crow’s racial definitions.
Though a means of escaping and undermining racial injustice, the practice comes with own set of costs and sacrifices.
In Nella Larsen’s 1929 novel Passing, adapted by Rebecca Hall and distributed on Netflix last fall, Clare Kendry—a light-skinned Black woman—decides to pass as white. Clare grows up poor in Chicago; after her alcoholic father dies, she is taken in by her racist white aunts. When she turns eighteen she marries a rich white man who assumes she is white. Clare makes a clean escape until, some years later, she runs into her childhood friend, Irene Redfield, at a whites-only hotel; Irene, it turns out, sometimes passes herself, in this case to escape the summer heat. The storyline traces their complex relationship after this reunion and ends in tragedy for Clare.
Hall’s film adaptation joins several other recent representations that dramatize the lived experience of passing. The protagonist of Brit Bennett’s best-selling novel The Vanishing Half (2020), for example, decides to start passing as white in the 1950s at age sixteen after responding to a listing in the newspaper for secretarial work in a New Orleans department store. Much to her surprise, after excelling at the typing test, Stella is offered the position; her boss assumes she is white. Initially Stella keeps up the ruse just to support her and her sister, but passing also becomes a way for her to escape the trauma of her father’s lynching and the prospect of her own…
