Black People

I already ranted about the White people (The Afrikaner) here, but I haven’t really discussed the Black people. Things aren’t all great.

Black students at the university that I meet are very nice to me. They like to talk about Black issues and chill. We just sit around and have a great time. However, I find that Black people who aren’t students ARE RUDE! They are completely rude to me. Anytime I go to like a store and there is a Black person working there, they are usually mean to me in some kind of way. They will not help me. They snap and/or whistle at me if I go the wrong way and/or they want to get my attention. I’m not a DOG! Usually, it’s just the women. Any Black woman knows when another Black woman is getting an attitude with her. It’s like a 6th sense… and I can tell when they are purposely being impolite. Also, if a white person is in the store, they will completely ignore me and help the White person. They stare, and sometimes I feel like they are following me through the store. Not everyone is like this, but more than often they are.

The men are usually trying to get with me. They whistle and make kissing noises. But, it’s the women that kind of hurt my feelings, because as Black women, we share the heaviest load, experiencing racism and sexism (and also classism). I wanted to bridge a gap, and instead, I discovered an even bigger gap.

My friend Brittney said it’s more about classism. When they look at me, they can tell I have money. When they hear me talk and hear that I am from America, they think I am rich. I’m unfamiliar to them. Because I am not poor… and I don’t speak the language, I’m not Black to them. These little girls at Kayamandi were talking about my friend Cassie, who is like darker than I am. The teacher told Cassie that they were trying to figure out whether Cassie was Black or White because she didn’t speak Xhosa. If you or I looked at Cassie, she’s obviously Black, but here being Black is more than just a skin tone.

I guess I can understand why they aren’t nice to me (I am different), but I don’t understand why they have to be rude to me. It just makes me think about us… “African-Americans” … We aren’t African. We aren’t American. Like.. the term “African-American” seems like it was meant to bridge a gap between the two worlds. In a sense.. we are a bridge between Africa and America. The term suggests that we are supposed to be both. But often, I feel like it’s a lonely word. We’re neither completely African nor completely American.

The other day, when I was waiting for my train in Johannesburg (a trip I will talk about in another post) back to Stellenbosch, this drunk, older, African guy gets off of the cheaper train speaking in Xhosa. He says something to this White Afrikaner lady sitting next to me, and she just ignores him. Then, he starts saying something to me as he’s walking away. I didn’t want to be rude, so I simply said, “I’m sorry, I don’t speak Xhosa.” He was like, “You don’t speak Xhosa?!” Then, he started saying more things in Xhosa.. and then told me that I had forgotten my roots.

Now, this could have been a real Sankofa moment. In the past, I probably would have felt he was right. I still think that part of every Black American that comes to Africa, goes to reclaim some part of their identity. But, the truth is, that belittles Africa; Africa hasn’t just been put on pause for hundreds of years. It’s changed. The “authentic” Africa, an Africa untouched by the West like in the movie Roots, doesn’t really exist anymore. Anyone coming here looking for that will be a little disappointed.

And the whole idea of Africa being the roots of Black people in America. This is true, but the institution of slavery was so unique, especially in America. You have many generations of slaves that were forced to forget their customs in efforts to weaken their souls. Also, you just have the process of natural assimilation. I’m not saying that all Black people in America have forgotten their pasts; it’s just that… it’s really hard to remember with so many things working against you. Plus, now coming to South Africa, it seems that people here have forgotten their pasts! Now, if some people in Africa have forgotten their past, how can they expect people abroad to remember?

It’s this idea of roots. It bothers me. Yes, my roots are in Africa… but in America, WE ARE ALL MIXED UP. We got “roots” in Europe, Africa, America (Native American), Asia… Black Americans have all kinds of blood in us. That’s just the truth of the matter. As much as it seems that White people (and Black people) try to only give Black people African ancestry, we have all kinds of ancestry. So… it’s just like… If I were to really sit down and learn the language of all my roots, I’d be learning like 20 different languages. That’s ridiculous.

So, I basically didn’t pay that drunk guy any attention. And, a few other Black people waiting for the train said, “I wish he’d shut-up and go away,” which also reassured me to not take him seriously.

It’s just like… Black people here don’t see me as truly Black, and using their definition, they are right. I am a Black American. My roots are here in Africa and on other continents as well. I’ve lived a different life than most Black people here in South Africa; we share the same burdens that come along with our skin tone, but we’ve experienced them in different environments. Black people in America have taken our African roots, our other roots, and our environment and created a completely different culture. As much as I want to truly connect with the Black people here, that’s just the fact of the matter.