When I tell people that I am black, I usually get one of two reactions:

Disbelief
“You can’t be!” (Actually I can be.)
“No you’re not!” (Yes I am. Why are you arguing with me?)
“No way!” (Way.)
“Are you serious?” (I am serious. And I have a birth certificate to prove it.)
“I had no idea you are black!” (That explains why you asked me if I was [INSERT RACE].)

Suggestive
“You could pass for white, if you wanted to.” (Huh?)

Here’s where I shoot the confused and did-you-really-just-say-that? look. First, are you suggesting I consider passing for white because you don’t think being black is a good thing? Second, why would I choose to deceive the world about who I am and carry a burden of a lie? And for the record, passing for white is not something I am nor have ever been interested in. I was raised to be proud of who I am because God made me – and everything about me – on purpose.

Of course, I don’t think people really understand the implication of that statement – you could pass for white. They probably aren’t thinking about people who make the decision to pass for white because they believe it’s a matter of survival, of life and death. And they probably don’t consider the family, friends, co-workers and neighbors who are deceived – for a lifetime or however long someone chooses to keep such a secret – and the ramifications of this kind of deception. No matter how successful you get at living a lie, a lie is still a lie. And lies hurt.

What I want to know is would anybody ever tell a brown-skinned black person to their face that they couldn’t pass for white, even if they wanted to?

Probably not.