| Jasmine Guy and the Politics of Aging While Black

| Melina Abdullah

| Republished by permission from LA Progressive

| Black women are expected to defy age itself, while men are granted the freedom to grow gray, heavy, bald, and visibly older.

Jasmine Guy called herself a “mulatto,” and referred to her obviously Black children as “octoroons” on “The Breakfast Club” as she defended the notion of white folks joining Black sororities and fraternities. I commented beneath the Instagram post that I wish she had actually attended Hillman College (the fictitious HBCU).

Nearly all of what she had to say was both problematic and just plain wrong. I wanted to call her in, invite her to my class, write essays in the comments; there are some things I have to say to Jasmine Guy, but her aging should not be part of it. Social media has ignored substantive debate and instead is abuzz about the “Different World” star’s appearance.

When she was Whitley Gilbert, Jasmine Guy was considered beautiful. Now, at 64, folks are dragging her not because of her failure to understand racism and Black oppression, colorism, or elitism, but because she doesn’t look the way she did 39 years ago. Life has etched itself into her face as lines formed around her mouth and eyes, tracing down her neck.

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Her painted lips curl slightly inward. She looks as if she’s lived every one of her years. Although she has maintained her taut figure, perfect posture, shiny hair, and classic style, Jasmine Guy proves “Black don’t crack” is a falsity.

And so does Kadeem Hardison. Three years Guy’s junior, Kadeem has grown thick around the middle. His hair and beard are more gray than black. We have to search to find Dwayne Wayne beneath the bloat. Long gone is the Kadeem that Chante Moore crooned about, son of one of the first Black supermodels. Yet the apple of Whitley’s eye seems to have escaped IG’s scorn.

We have seen the internet come for Lela Rochon, snicker at Mary J. Blige, and drag Lil’ Kim. But everybody can’t be Lisa Bonet, Nia Long, or Angela Bassett. Aging means sagging and wrinkles. Hair grays, breasts fall, and gaits slow.

White-supremacist-patriarchal-heteronormative-capitalism socializes women in particular to feel shame around these changes. They peddle creams, injections, and facelifts, and while this is not a condemnation of those who partake, doing so musn’t become a necessary shield from ridicule.

Old is not ugly. The deep folds around our mouths are called laugh lines; when has laughter not been magic? The lines that extend from our eyes have been mimicked by make-up for millenia. Foreheads tell stories of concern, empathy, and care. And God is never more present than in the hardened cracks of a grandmother’s hand. What a blessing it is to age rather than die.

I just turned 54. I had my own Jasmine Guy moment a few years back. A “brother,” who is four years my senior, bald, and gray-bearded, with whom I was having a philosophical dispute, saw fit to begin a conversation that I had convened with him in hopes of settling our quarrels with, “What happened to you? You used to be so pretty.”

He went on to detail all of my current flaws back to me…the asymmetry of my face and squint of eyes that don’t see so easily anymore. He was clearly trying to diminish me. Although we were professional peers, both intellectuals, his comments were a reminder that, as a woman, my value was my beauty…and that it had faded.

I took a breath remembering the gorgeous, caring, kind, brilliant man who wrapped me in his arms most nights, hands caressing my skin and pillowy curves, as if touching me was his heaven. I recalled the way my children made my stretch-marked belly their place of comfort. I thought of the comrades with whom I was contemplating new worlds and the movement that we were building through spirit and wit, not physical appearance.

Then I chuckled, and stared into my op’s cataract-riddled eyes, “Are you saying that I don’t look the way I did 29 years ago? You don’t either.” He was taken aback. How dare I not shrink at his insult? I don’t think he ever thought about his own age, about the life etched into his own face.

I am loving watching the well-seasoned Whitley Gilbert on the “Different World” reboot. I am grateful that almost the entire original cast is a part of the new Netflix series and all have aged – seemingly without intervention.

Freddie’s face has dulled. Kim’s wig isn’t quite right. Dwayne is thick. Ron is bald. And Colonel Taylor’s steps have stiffened. Their inclusion gives permission for Black to crack sometimes.

(I still want to talk with Jasmine Guy about her “Breakfast Club” comments though.)

Melina Abdullah serves on the leadership team for #BlackLivesMatter and is committed to ending state-sponsored and police violence towards all people, and especially Black people. She has been particularly active in the resistance movement that emerged following the killings of Oscar Grant, Trayvon Martin and Michael Brown in California as well as in Ferguson, Missouri. Professor Abdullah emerged as a national leader in the effort to advance ethnic studies.