Dear Prudence: Being black and proud

Dear Prudence: I am black, with a light complexion, as is my immediate family ? without any white parent or grandparent. I have often been in the position of going to school or working in an almost entirely white environment where whites have had little personal contact with blacks.

Often they will tell me they thought I was Native American or Mexican. I have no trouble with this, but some will often say to me in a tone that suggests a compliment, “You don’t look black,” which I find insulting. Light or not, I am black, and resent any implication that I should be proud that I do not “look black.” I usually respond, “Blacks are both light and dark, so I do look black.”

I’m not sure the people who make these comments realize it is insulting, and sometimes I want to say, “You don’t look white to me,” as many whites look like my family and we are all black. Any suggestions on handling this?

— Black and Proud

Dear Black: To give you an informed answer with knowledge and experience behind it, Prudie checked with Karen Grigsby Bates. She is a fair-skinned black journalist who’s spent much of her career writing about race. When she read your letter, she said she rolled her eyes and thought, “Been there; living that.” She borrowed Prudie’s cap, and here’s her answer:

“If you want to be bothered with broadening people’s cultural landscapes, you could say something like, ‘Well, black is a very flexible color in America. We run the gamut.’ Then leave it at that. Or you could elaborate: ‘My whole family is black and everyone is a different color. It’s very common.’ Personally, I like the second option. Should you be in snarky-educational mode, try: ‘Funny, you don’t look white to me — but maybe that’s because you look so much like one of my favorite aunts.'”

? Prudie, progressively

Pru: I am a single male frequently invited to events in a social circle above mine, though I now count many of these people as friends. They really enjoy having me, and I’ve found myself invited to some very select parties.

I have reached this level because of some simple rules I always follow, such as hand-writing thank-you notes ? no matter how small the occasion ? taking small gifts to the hosts, always walking curbside when with women, just generally having old-world manners. To that end, I enjoy the art of kissing an offered female hand, which has always made a huge impact and has allowed me to ingratiate myself to hostesses.

I now find I am invited to a very well-heeled winter wedding, where I will be practicing this little bit of chivalry. I am wondering about the specific protocol.

? Knight Errant?

Dear Knight: You are certainly not in the mainstream, let’s put it that way. And given that hand-kissing is so not happening in society as we know it, it probably won’t make a darn bit of difference whose hand you kiss. You sound like the proverbial, albeit desirable extra man; certainly one who seems not averse to a little social mountaineering. As for the practice of hand-kissing, whenever someone has kissed Prudie’s hand, it has always seemed overwrought and silly.

The only time it felt natural was some years ago in Acapulco. Now here comes a big name-drop, kids . . . from the days before Prudie was at your service, chained to her computer. The hand-kisser was Prince Albert of Monaco.

So, dear Knight, if you could latch on to a title between now and your ritzy wedding, it would make your chivalrous act all the more meaningful.

— Prudie, royally

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Dear Prudence is written by Margo Howard, Ann Landers’ daughter. All letters must be sent via e-mail to [email protected]. Due to a high volume of e-mail, not all letters will be answered.