It is possible that watermelons are both a symbol of
racism for Black people in America and a
symbol of solidarity and empowerment for
Palestinians. There is a story behind this.
It all came to light recently when the
New York City chapter of the Democratic
Socialists of America posted a flier targeting Rep. Hakeem Jeffries,
D-N.Y., and calling for a ceasefire in Gaza.
The flier featured a drawing of a watermelon
with the message: “Make art outside Hakeem
Jeffries’ Office.” The flier of a watermelon
aimed at a Black lawmaker angered some in the
Black community, and understandably so.
Black folks have a love-hate relationship with watermelon.
Many of us love to eat the sweet and juicy
fruit, but drawings and depictions of
watermelon trigger us and make us feel some
sort of way. Why is that? This wasn’t always
the case.
Black people take offense to the
watermelon imagery because of the role
watermelon has played in our own racialized
oppression, particularly since after the Civil
War. Watermelon
dates back to Africa, and while the racist imagery linking
Black people with watermelons was present
during enslavement, watermelon was first
associated with Arab and Italian peasants in
the early 19th century. In America,
watermelons were a symbol of Black
freedom and self-sufficiency when the formerly enslaved grew and
sold them after emancipation. For the white
supremacist power structure, this was a threat
to the racial order and white power.
During Jim Crow, white people amplified
the watermelon as a cartoonish symbol of Black
denigration, inferiority, laziness,
childishness, uncleanliness and other racial
stereotypes. Watermelon became a white
supremacist trope and epithet, a toxic
representation of blackness that far too many
Black people have internalized. A healthy
fruit associated with Black freedom was
weaponized to damage the Black psyche.
As the Jim
Crow Museum at Ferris State University has
chronicled, the grotesque imagery promoted by
white Jim Crow society of caricatured Black
faces with googly eyes and dark skin, bright
red lips and tattered clothes eating
watermelons took its toll on the self-esteem
of Black people.
Newspapers and postcards during the Jim Crow era promoted
caricatures of watermelon-eating Black people,
associating the fruit with free Black people.
Films such as “The Birth of a Nation” and
the animated “Scrub Me Mama with a Boogie
Beat” featured Black people eating watermelon
and helped to amplify and solidify these
stereotypes in the white consciousness. These
denigrating images meant to embarrass Black
people and make them look silly, stupid, messy
and carefree are a reason why some Black
people refuse to eat watermelons to this day —
and in
front of white people.
Even in the present-day media landscape and popular
culture, the damaging watermelon imagery
continues, and Black folks can’t seem to shake
it off.
A symbol of Jim Crow for Black people in
the United States, the watermelon assumed a
different, powerful
symbolism for Palestinians living under the
apartheid military occupation of Israel. When
Israel seized control of the West Bank and
Gaza in 1967 and criminalized displaying the
red, black, green and white Palestinian flag,
Palestinians adopted the watermelon as a
workaround (as a point of reference, the Black
nationalist flag is red, black and green).
The flag ban was lifted in 1993, but the
watermelon remained a potent icon of Palestinian
solidarity. Plus, Israeli police will still snatch
a Palestinian flag and make arrests. And
pro-Palestinian users even adopted the
watermelon emoji to overcome what they believe
are content restrictions on social media.
Watermelon symbolism reflects the struggles for freedom
and fights against oppression for
African-Americans and Palestinians. Today,
that symbolism lands quite differently for
Black people in America and for Palestinians
living under Israeli occupation. Jim Crow
America weaponized the watermelon against
Black people as a backlash against
emancipation and Black empowerment.
Palestinians adopted the watermelon as a
symbol of empowerment and solidarity. But we
must acknowledge these differences and hold
both realities at the same time.
This commentary is also posted on TheGrio.com.
