It was time for dessert.
I looked over the menu and was torn between ordering some fruit offering or a chocolate treat. I asked my influential vice president what she was considering. “I would like to order the watermelon, but I refuse to do so.” I asked her why. “Well, you know, I can’t be seen eating watermelon in a restaurant.” It was a very small thing but telling as well. I was in the presence of a mover and shaker who probably ranked among the the most promising young black professionals in America. And yet she was imprisoned by racial taboos. She could not be herself and order what she wanted to order because of racial stereotypes. I teased her and said it wouldn’t be that bad. No one is looking. No one cares. As God is my witness, she could not bring herself to order what she desired to have for dessert because of race. — Letters in Black and White: A New Correspondence on Race in America, page 279
Suppose Hamas has pranked hundreds of black American demonstrators in the college protests? Suppose the powers that be at Hamas Central Control are fist bumping each other and laughing their tails off? What do I mean?
As I started to watch news coverage of the protests, I noticed the oddest thing — watermelons. Watermelons. Now I enjoy a good watermelon on a summer’s day. My Uncle Will Womack used to grow watermelons in his backyard. But watermelons have a sorry association for black Americans. Watermelons are not black face. I do not want to overstate my case. However, for many black Americans from the South, watermelons are triggering. The delectable fruit brings up memories of racial harassment, racial prejudice and racial jokes.
How did watermelon become associated with caricatures and stereotypes of black people down South? According to my co-author Jennifer Richmond, “watermelons and fried chicken were both plentiful and cheap, but also food that you could eat with your hands and therefore “‘dirty.’” Id. at pages 281-282. You know how those black people have no table manners and all.
Watermelon was also a low maintenance fruit. It was easy to grow, which meant it was the delight of the lazy and shiftless. More caricatures and stereotypes. Consider these prejudiced images associating black people with watermelons: Watermelon as a Racist Trope I’se So Happy Watermelon and White People Ashamed to Eat Watermelon Watermelon and Denigration of Black People
Even moi was subjected to prejudiced comments and slurs about watermelon growing up in Chester, Virginia. I recall how a classmate or two would make comments about watermelons sacked up outside of Ukrops’ supermarket where I worked as a courtesy clerk. The jokes were not funny. I was fortunate to not internalize the racial abuse. I dismissed my small-minded classmates and retained a healthy love of watermelon. Remember, despite the watermelon humor, I associated watermelon with my Uncle Will’s crops in his backyard. Those were pleasant memories unsoiled by some bigoted small minds.
Here’s my point — generations of black American southerners have had to endure watermelon slurs and jokes, abuse and denigration. Shouldn’t young black activists and protestors think twice before associating themselves with Hamas protestors and demonstrators who may not give a fig about the troubled history of watermelons as a racial symbol to Black Americans?
According to Wikipedia, “[T]he watermelon has become a symbol of solidarity with Palestinians during the Israel-Hamas war, appearing in protests, on walls, and in online posts. The fruit's colors, red, green, black, and white, are the same as those on the Palestinian flag. Watermelons have also been featured on T-shirts, balloons, and banners.”
What happens when the watermelon, a racial slur for many southern Black Americans, is used as symbol of solidarity with Palestinians? Aren’t Black Americans more oppressed than Palestinians? And if so, shouldn’t the Hamas demonstrators tuck away the watermelon out of respect for the racial memories of Black Americans down South?
It seems to me that real “allies” are not self-centered. If Hamas really cares about the feelings and muscular memories of young black activists, wish away the watermelon t-shirts, balloons and banners into the corn fields. I don’t support Hamas, so the demonstrators will ignore me. It is up to Black activists camping down and protesting with watermelons all around to show some self-respect.
Enough with the watermelons and triggering images at protests.
How the Watermelon Became Solidarity
Conclusion: I began this essay with a memory from my past. “We met for lunch in Carmel Valley, a biotechnology corridor outside of downtown San Diego. The restaurant was upper-end and very posh. I easily envisioned venture capitalists meeting with startup entrepreneurs at several of the tables. As I grew to know my lunch guest, I learned that she was from the Deep South and had attended a Historically Black College. Her high school had been 30 to 40 percent black. Id. at page 278
I pleaded with my lunch partner to order watermelon. No one was looking. No one cared. There was no history of watermelon caricatures and stereotypes in North County of San Diego. She could not release the racial trauma and memory from her past.
If we lifted a layer from my vice president’s outer veneer, we would find a frightened little girl who still fears prejudiced caricatures of black people. Her entire will is devoted to confronting stereotypes about black people. I get it. I know the type. I am that way myself. It was my upbringing in Virginia. And yet here we were in an opulent setting, miles from the endless Pacific Ocean, and racial stereotypes were controlling our simple desire to order watermelon.
She never ordered the watermelon. Id. at page 279
If the young Black activists refuse and decline to demand the removal and erasure of watermelon as a racial symbol from Hamas protests, then I conclude young Black activists have lost their way.
Great comment. I will pass on the lutefisk/smile.
Eat what you want. Anybody dumb enough to think less of you because you like chicken or watermelon is not worth your time. Imagine if you were Norwegian and you had to eat lutefisk.
If you don’t know what it is, look it up. You don’t want to eat it….