Recognizing a Big Scary Brown Guy in the Wild

Laying out a necessary introduction to this Substack.

Some time or other, I can’t pinpoint exactly when, I soon realized that I had been transformed into a Big Scary Brown Guy, almost overnight. Now, it may be that this reminds you of another, more famous story you read once about a guy who found himself inexplicably turned into a monstrous vermin, and I admit that there might be some similarities though not too many. Case in point, I’m not a large insect, but I do scare people at times.

Big Scary Brown Guy near Moab, Utah.

Societies that are dominated in their power structures by what I’ll call privileged whites (almost redundant), don’t really like larger than average men of elevated melanin levels walking around like they own the place. After generations and generations of cultivating this kind of dislike, this fear in society, one would think that a culmination of awareness and education would see this phenomenon at its nadir. Alas, ignorance abounds, and we need to come to grips with this foolishness, for it has gone on for too long and will perpetuate if not actively countered by one’s stories and experiences. It’s time to pull up these weeds by their roots.

I became a Big Scary Brown Guy without my permission, I’ll have you know. This identity was foisted upon me without my consent, and even now I find myself suddenly changed into this person at a moment’s notice. No one asked if I would like to be a Big Scary Brown Guy or not. I just realized after some time that I had an effect on people that wasn’t a single occurrence or easily explainable. Thanks to my age—stringing together enough years of experience to notice that this was a pattern—I came to understand that I fit a particular type of human that certain people were either intimidated by or openly hostile toward. 

When this first started to happen to me, well meaning people, undoubtedly believing (naively) that all people are sensible and free from the strictures of racism and prejudice, would attempt to comfort me by rationalizing what happened to me—what was done to me—in either one of two ways. Either I had misinterpreted the situation in question, or the offender didn’t really mean what they said or did to me. In such cases, even as I recognized my own precarity, I was made to feel that I was either delusional or unreasonable. I was doubly traumatized—by the experience itself, and then, later, by someone who cared about me. 

Something about all of this had to do with certain vectors of my intersectionality—that spot where my size, my brownness, my education, and my masculinity converged. For most of my prepubescent youth, I was cute or adorable. (I suppose. I certainly wasn’t scary then). Once, an administrative assistant (at the time called a secretary) at my elementary school cooed breathlessly that I “had eyes like Julio Iglesias.” Besides being somewhat creepy, it should be stated that this was a white woman. Henceforth, every time I ventured into the office, this woman would go on and on about my eyes. I never said anything and instead would smile uncomfortably, playing along with her bit, grinning, waiting for it to be over. I was too young to object.

See, I knew who Julio Iglesias was. He was a singer who mostly sung in Spanish, though he did a duet with Willie Nelson called, “To All the Girls I’ve Loved Before” that likely put him on the radar of more Americans than before. Though I didn’t have the words for it at the time, Iglesias was allocated to a Latin Lover persona that most Latino artists get put into, at least initially. These men were billed as lovers with a kind of inherent sexual prowess or magnetism. There was a reason I was unnerved when this adult white woman spoke sweetly about my eyes.

Someone might argue that this woman was simply being nice or was even teasing me good-naturedly. But it was weird to me, whatever it was. Even at an early age, I had to defer my feelings and accept that this woman didn’t mean any harm by it. When I told my mom, she didn’t find it endearing at all. It’s possible that she went up there to tell that woman to knock it off.

As a kid, I was lanky, skinny, undoubtedly awkward, and very soon a four-eyes with glasses so thick it was like I could see 27 years into the future. Back then, my brown skin and dark hair were nothing but ordinary and unremarkable. Just another Latino boy in Texas. We were a dime a dozen there, and I thought we were all treated the way I was being treated.

Many Black men also describe this phenomenon of being cute and lovable before becoming ferocious manteaters around the age of 13. I think it was Jesmyn Ward in her novel Salvage the Bones that made the all too disturbing analogue between young Black men and pit bulls in the eyes of white society. I think something similar happens with Brown men as well, though Black and Brown men do not have the same engagements with America, even if there are shared characteristics in their respective experiences. My Brownness comes from my Latinx heritage, but other Brown men likely experience similar things—be they Native American, Persian, Turkish, Indian, and other heritages where men have a skin color ranging from cinnamon to bronze.

In this Substack, “Big Scary Brown Guy,” I want to expose these experiences and notions for people who must also have some connection to this way of being viewed by others. Perhaps you know a Big Scary Brown Guy or are one yourself. Maybe you are married to one or are a best friend to one of these big lugs. My primary purpose is to share my stories and insights so that you know that it’s not just you—that they’re trying to gaslight you and that shit isn’t going to work anymore. If this empowers just one person, then it’s more than worth it.

I’m also prepared to speak about my education and my career in academia, and how being a Big Scary Brown Guy has factored into all this. Perhaps you are of a similar persuasion and haven’t yet realized that you, too, are a Big Scary Brown Guy. “Knowing is half the battle!” as they used to say on the 80s animated show G.I. Joe. My hope is that something in my experience will help give you perspective and perhaps armor for your own journey. I hope it opens up frank conversations, to be honest.

Let me just also quickly mention that I’m a bigger than average guy. I am basically a poor man’s version of the baseball player Albert Pujols—almost 6’3” and nearly 250 pounds. But I’ve noticed that it’s not literal size that’s always the instigator for people. Dark skin on a man has the effect of, apparently, making him seem larger, more menacing, than he actually is. So don’t think for a second that this couldn’t be you or someone you know because you or they are not that big. Perception is reality for a lot of people you encounter. You can be made into a monster in a moment’s notice.

All of this has compelling evidence, and it is easily found. But here I’m really looking forward to sharing my own insights without heavy doses of research or statistics. That said, there may be times when I bring these things into the conversation, so be forewarned.

One final point about being a Big Scary Brown Guy. You might think that someone who is uneducated or deemed uncouth in some way might be scarier to people, something like the raging character of Bigger Thomas, that deliberately crafted brute seemingly sprung from Richard Wright’s head fully formed. No, dear reader, it’s the opposite. The more intelligent you are, the more education you have obtained and earned, the greater risk you pose in the mind’s of others. Like Caliban, you’ve taken their speech, learned their systems, and can now use them to your advantage. People don’t like that. They’d prefer you remain a brute because in many ways you’re easier to deal with. You’re easier to ignore. You’re easier to silence.

Now, having said all of this, I’ll state it plainly that I resist all attempts to group all people within a solitary, narrow purpose or mindset. If a white woman treats me a certain way, I am in no way saying that all white women are predestined to behave in a racist manner toward your friendly neighborhood Big Scary Brown Guy. On the other hand, these experiences I will relate almost overwhelming occur with white women. There is something that makes this demographic react and behave a certain way toward me more than others. So if it looks like I’m picking on white women, it’s just that they have predominated over other demographic and identity groups in showing me such tender mercies.

They are also the group that are among my greatest friends and supporters. Some are mentors to me. I married one, as well.

And so, this is an introductory post of sorts, one that gives you the trajectory of this Substack and the context out of which it arises. A lot of it is personal; a lot of it is observational. I hope you’ll join me. I’m happy to take questions or suggestions for topics. Follow me as we put this Big Scary Brown Guy experience under the microscope!