This is a lot of rambling, but that's okay sometimes.
So I have been thinking about this for a minute, but due to a lot of issues (that are constantly reoccurring unfortunately) surrounding race I am both sad and frustrated. I have tried to be more reflective and careful about my statements concerning race, because it still proves to be a hot-button topic, but that rationale seems to just be amplifying the voices of the ignorant.
Hearing about the tragedy of Trayvon Martin, and now the racist comments surrounding the Hunger Games makes me so sad. I was recently TOLD (not asked) that I am a coloured, it was obvious to this person that I had white relatives within my immediate family. WTH! The irony is that I was always called dark by other family members and never being considered “light-skinned” in America; now being in Africa it is obvious to this person that I am part white. So I put my arm up to hers to see if there could be some truth to her statement, and the answer was, No! But she still persisted, “I can see you have white mixed in your skin. It’s lighter.” Really.
Also some people here like the word Nigger (and sometimes if they have a good ear, Nigga). So yes, all those people from older generations who said the young are perpetuating ignorance by using the word, and I used to think where fussing over nothing, have now been proven right. If I walk a certain way or if I wear clothes similar to those worn by “urban youth”, I am told I look like a Nigger....yes I know how to spell....that is what they say. I can’t even listen to rap or R&B around certain people here, because if they hear the word then they get excited and want to use it prolifically. It reminds me of kids who start using cuss words for the first time; the glee in their voices tinted with ignorance for the meaning behind what they are saying. This is not the first time I have been called this, but the complete ignorance in which they say the word, denotes the complete lack of knowledge about the history or present day connotation of the word. It is not said with the familiarity and commonality that marked my childhood, nor is it said with the vitriol and hate that I experienced later in life. In both situations, I have been desensitized to the use of the word. I don’t reprimand people who use it as a regular noun in their lexicon, and I don’t allow myself to be riled or upset by those who would try and use the word to hurt me.
I thought I could handle the usage of the word in this new context as well, but for some reason it is getting on my nerves. I tried to explain to one person, who expressed his desire to come back to America with me, that it would be better if he not use that word because people could tell that he had no idea what he was talking about and it could put him in harms way (very PC language). And instead of heeding my words or at least reflecting on them, he completely dismissed me and started repeating the word continuously. I was literally dumbfounded. I didn’t understand. That situation was a metaphor for many of my experiences here. People constantly approach me about coming to America, how to find work in the US, how is the US, and when I tell them the truth about the economy or race relationships (especially the difficulties faced by foreigners/immigrants) they completely tune me out. They choose to hold onto their false notions and dreams of the America of movies and tv, which is the same problem I face when I talk with Americans about my travels and work in Africa. People won’t believe that there are cities here (with clothed people), that a Cape Town exist on the continent or that I have been in homes and neighborhoods where “Black” people live on the higher rungs of the socio-economic ladder.
I used movies, books and media to dispel the myths about America and Africa. Granted I actively sought out material that would give me a true representation of places and people outside the limited prism of my immediate surroundings. But this level of ignorance is atrocious on all levels in all societies and I am tired of it.
In America, I was asked more than once by international students, why were a disproportionate number of the poor/beggars Black people? Why are there Black people without a high school diploma, when education was free? Why do African students make up the majority of the “Black” demographic in graduate school statistics? I was also asked by Black professors and academics, why do I dress the way I do? Why would I want to come to Africa? Why would I ever consider downgrading and going to a HBCU for graduate school? Why would I do African studies? When I was younger, being smart meant I was put in the classes “without” Black people, and was told I didn’t need to act like “those” people; I had a future despite my skin color.
I have been told by other volunteers that I am as Black as Carlton. I have been told by white expats here in Botswana that they feel comfortable talking to me, because they feel that I would not immediately jump to conclusions and judge them; so they would just like to know don’t I agree that integration in America was done the wrong way. Didn’t my grand-parents and parents talk to me about how it was wrong to force White communities to accept Black people as equal citizens during that time period? I have also had expats and volunteers call me a racist and say that I hate White people. I also had to justify to family and community members that just because I was in segregated classes I had not forgotten where I come from. A major portion of my life I have been defending, justifying, apologizing and in one way of the other worrying about what skin color I am and what that means not just to me but every relationship I have with everyone else.
So if from this post you are asking who am I and what do I believe, you are in the same position I have been in for a long time. Racial issues are sensitive, but they have been a constant companion throughout my life and there seems to be no geographical, educational, spiritual or intellectual barrier that allows me to leave it behind as I try to fulfill the dreams of my life.
I should edit this but I won’t, I am not the spider in this web, I am the fly.
