The Megan Markle Effect

For most of my adult life I have lived and worked in predominately white sections of Southern California.  Although California is known for its diversity, it is like the rest of the world where neighborhoods are segregated along racial, ethnic or religious lines.  As an adult, I chose to break out of segregation and to integrate as my own contribution to ending prejudice in the world. There are upsides to choosing to live this way, but there are also some challenges.  This week I’m living with what I call the  “Megan Markle Effect”. I admit to staying  up all night to watch every minute of the Royal Wedding last weekend.  I watched the interviews among the crowds lining the streets of Winsor hoping for a glimpse of the happy couple. I saw Prince Harry and Prince William arrive at the church together.  I judged the attire and demeanor of the arriving guests, especially noting the women with over-the-top fascinator hats.  I was especially excited to see Megan’s mother and then Megan’s gorgeous wedding dress.  They were both the picture of perfection and dignity.  The ceremony was absolutely beautiful and well worth the sleepless night.

I enjoyed every romantic moment.  Most fun to me was the mixture of cultures and people’s reaction to the black Chicago preacher’s sermon.  My favorite moments were when the couple took their vows and how they looked at each other with unabashed love.  I enjoyed the church choir.  But the British gospel choir with their rendition of “Stand By Me” gave me chills.  And I simply loved the expressive face of the young black cellist.  I was touched when Prince Charles walked Megan down the second half of the aisle and touched again when he escorted Megan’s mother along with his wife outside.  All cameras and by extension all eyes were on Megan and her mother.  Thankfully, there were no missteps by either of them.  And thankfully, they were treated with dignity, respect, generosity, and kindness.

It may sound strange, but I’m convinced that I benefited from the Royal Wedding and how well it went.  On Thursday, I took a vacation day to run errands.  Everywhere I went, white women and men, too, were unusually kind and even chatty with me.  Going into a restaurant for lunch, this older white patron rushed to the door to hold it open for me.  In the checkout lane at Home Depot, the checker was soon accompanied by another checker and we carried on about how great technology allowed me to ask my phone how to care for a Delphinium before purchasing it.  As I was leaving, the checker commented about how pleasurable our conversation was.  There were unusual smiles and greetings all day from white strangers.  It finally dawned on me that I was experiencing transference.

We all do it.  When we have good feelings about someone from a particular racial or ethnic group that we generally have little personal contact with, we tend to transfer those feelings onto anyone from that group that we encounter.  All the goodwill these white people were feeling toward Megan and her mother were being transferred to me.  I understood this because I’ve lived it many times. I’ve experienced the “Oprah Effect” where I was treated like some kind of wise sage for years.  I’ve also experienced the “Welfare Mom Effect” where I was treated with great suspicion by store clerks, even having one call security on me because she didn’t believe I could possibly be the owner of the gold MasterCard I proffered in payment.

This kind of transference is common.  It wasn’t what I expected to become part of my reality when I chose to live as a fly in the buttermilk, but it is.  The tendency to transfer what little we know about people from a particular group is so prevalent that people don’t actually bother to get to know me until they have to.  They assume that I can sing, can dance, am spiritual, and that I’m wise, loud, emotional, and aggressive.  Their tendency  is to not really see “me” at first, but to initially transfer the image of what they think a black woman is onto me.  Eventually, when they get to know me, this inclination gives way to disconcerting comments like, “I don’t consider you to be black.”  For some, they think they are complimenting me.  For others, I am a disappointment because I don’t sing all that well.

I’ve grown to understand that simply living as a minority among any majority will not overcome prejudice.  People will simply take their contact with the minority member and transfer it onto everyone from that background.  This knowledge has saddled me with the unfair burden of always representing my race in the most positive light possible.  And I do it because the stakes are so high.  So, I want to say, “thank you” to Megan and her mother, because I think they too, realized how high the stakes were for the image of African Americans.

No, none of this is right or fair.  But we are dealing with human nature and the reality is that it’s going to take  a lot more integration to overcome the transference we deal with as minorities.  I’m glad to be able to acknowledge the problem and point towards the solution that it will take a lot more brave souls to openly and honestly interact across racial, ethnic and religious lines.