In John Howard Griffin's controversial 1962 memoir Black Like Me, the white man Griffin goes on an anthropological and personal journey, posing as a black man in the deep south in an attempt to understand the black experience. Part personal revelation, part argument, Griffin attempts to provide evidence of pervasive racial discrimination and to show that, through empathy, white people can change and begin to understand the black experience. The problem, however, is that Griffin himself doesn't change. The bad encounters he experiences sometimes cause fleeting changes in his identity and his argument, but ultimately only contribute to the same erroneous idea: the belief that by painting his skin black, Griffin can understand - and, therefore , speaking - the experience of a black person. . He begins using the pronoun “we” to refer to the black community almost immediately after transitioning. As a result, he simultaneously rejects and usurps black identity, harming his own empathetic identity and undermining his credibility in his advocacy for racial equality. Griffin's goal is well-intentioned and radical for its time. Nonetheless, his desperation to speak for black people ultimately only undermines his argument for equal humanity and contributes to a counterproductive theme of imperialist sympathy in which the white man claims authority over the experiences of a marginalized people. . Say no to plagiarism. Get a tailor-made essay on “Why Violent Video Games Should Not Be Banned”? Get an original essay Immediately after changing his skin color, Griffin begins using the collective "we" in reference to black people, implying that simply dyeing his skin allows him to speak for the black community in its entirety. Less than a day after becoming black, in what he himself considers his "first intimate glimpse" of black life, Griffin declared: "We were Negroes and our concern was the white man and how get along with him” (Griffin, 35). Not only is he using his limited experience as a black man to define the "concern" of all Negroes, but he is also distancing himself from the "white man" he was just a few days ago. Additionally, Griffin remains surprisingly open about his "former" whiteness, not because he wants to emphasize a disparity between his inner identity and his outer appearance, but because for him the fact that he "once was white" is without consequence (35). For Griffin, the physical blackness of his skin gives him the right to call himself "completely black, whatever he may have once been" and an immediate vindication of the sense of "shame", "fear" and futility of black. experience (23). Griffin's self-proclaimed blackness gives him false license to act as a misguided voice for the movement for black equality. Griffin's quest to sympathize with the black community and assert that the white man has "no God-given right that [the black man] does not also have" (although presumptuous) is well-intentioned ( 36). And, in its historical context, even courageous. However, his argument does not stand the test of time, with many new critics pointing out the ethical errors and problematic consequences that arise when white men equate empathy with a fundamental understanding of a marginalized group's experience. As the 2016 documentary 13th puts it, when white people “take the lead in a conversation [about black movements]…they inevitably create more repression” (Ana DuVernay). For John Howard Griffin, however, his experience.