i was on socibus headed north from seville to madrid, amazed by how immediately and drastically the landscape changed, realizing that i just don’t know who i am anymore.
although i do know that i am no longer afraid of the cliche. including being a natural-haired, “educated” black person trying to find herself abroad.
i mean hey, it’s my reality.
so i’m black, right. i have been my whole life. i can never remember a time when i didn’t know i was black, or when i didn’t discern black from ‘other’. i was raised this way.
along with my egyptian name came a more extensive knowledge than most about egyptian mythology, a general fascination with all things african and/or black, and an unspoken ingrained sense of pan-african-ness and black ‘nationalism’ for lack of a better word.
example:
when watching the olympics or world cup, if the u.s. was competing against jamaica and kenya, i would feel torn about whether to root for jamaica or kenya, and not be concerned about the u.s. at all. unless of course it was basketball or track and the u.s. competitor was black, in which case i felt a slight preference for america…
remember surya bonaly?
the French chick that used to backflip on skates? that was my girl…and i loved watching her do something that no one else in the world was doing, and i especially loved that she was black, doing it.
yes, there’s a point to this rumination. so stage 1 in my formation of blackness…
there was black, and there was other. and black was black, no matter the country of origin.
stage 2…
i was a different kind of black. not by choice.
but there was my curly hair, and my american origin (juxtaposed with people from africa or even the caribbean who were darker, nappier haired, more phenotypically ‘black’?), and then all this cultural stuff about speaking properly and going to a liberal arts college.
so in stage 2 black people came in categories. we were still all black, but we had our own special little boxes of blackness. and ‘pure’ blackness basically had something to do with how close to sub-saharan africa you were (with the exception of sudan and ethiopia because somehow they were in an even more distinct category of blackness)
phenotype mattered. i was constantly being reminded that i wasn’t 100% Black because of a combination of physical features, and informed
in South Africa you would be colored, in the rest of “Black Africa” perhaps a half-caste (except in Ethiopia), in Jamaica you would be a brownin, in Haiti you would be brune ak curly hair, in Trinidad and Guyana people would think you were coolie or at least half, etc.
In other words, in the countries that are really Black, you wouldn’t really be Black. You’re only Black in countries where all the Black people have been watered down.
I had to accept this, because clearly I was no authority on blackness, but I was unhappy accepting this. And I can’t really see how not looking “100% Black” has been beneficial to me in any way, as I am quite brown-skinned, except that Dominicans often think I am one of their own. But in the eyes of many, Dominicans are Black. They share an island with Haiti, which is one of the Blackest countries in the world. so…
moving along.
I was left with this sense that, according to the Black people authorities, in a global context I was only Black by choice. And definitely had no real legitimate claim to put “African” in any part of my identity, because I was visibly not African.
So it was quite a {pleasant?} surprise to me, when I went to Morocco–which is in Africa, but not the “Black” part–that it was generally assumed that I was from Africa. And by Africa, I mean sub-Saharan, Black Africa. Just nice to experience the flip side of the coin.
Now just to clarify, I identify as African-American. I feel like it’s the most accurate term to describe someone of my heritage–descendant of slaves, mostly from West Africa, in the U.S. I have not picked any particular country in Africa and decided that it is my ancestral home (although I do want to take that DNA test to see if my genealogy can be traced to a specific area in Africa). I don’t practice any African based religion, or any religion at all. The closest I speak to any African language is Haitian Kreyol. I have never even taken an African dance class (unless you count Salsa)…
Besides knowing a little history, liking zouk, afrobeat, and “nollywood” (Nigerian) films, and having friends from different countries in Africa…I can’t say I have a personal connection to Africa. yet.
But how ludicrous is it to suggest that I’m not African?
I don’t cling to blackness out of desperation or by default because I can’t fit into any other category in America…like I said, I was always Black, ever since I can remember. And it’s a struggle sometimes…but it’s beautiful…and I love it.
