What Does It Mean to Be ‘Black’ in Africa?
Let’s consider what race is on a continent where almost everyone looks the same
I listened to Nigerian author and speaker Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie during an interview with The Economist last night. She said that she didn’t know she was “Black” until she came to the United States.
The first time I pondered this thought, I was living in Zanzibar, Tanzania. The name Zanzibar is said to translate to “land of the Blacks” in Arabic. But no Zenji (or Zanzibar native) I’ve met thinks of themselves as Black. If they lived in the U.S., they would likely be labeled as Black, but generally speaking, the Zenjis I’ve interacted with claim Swahili as an identifier.
As an African American woman currently residing in East Africa for the last two years, I’ve often wrestled with how I should identify. What is Black? What does it mean to be Black? Who gets to claim Black? Who doesn’t? Because you look Black, does it mean you are Black? Am I reducing myself by self-identifying as Black? Am I Black?
I Googled, “Is black a color?” Google answered back, “No, it isn’t. Black absorbs light. It is not a color.” Anything associated with black in the Western world usually has a negative connotation: black cat, black as night, black comedy, Black person.
When were Africans in America first termed Black? Enslaved Africans have gone through many iterations of identification: Negro, Colored, African American, Black. At some point in our history, the location and ethnic group were no longer important. We weren’t people, we were property.
When a person of non-European descent is reduced to a color, they are stripped of their humanity, uniqueness, and culture. Their claim to a nation, clan, or definitive ethnic group is erased. And so, post-Civil War, formerly enslaved Africans began to label themselves. We were “Colored,” then we became “Negro.” Eventually, after the struggles of the civil rights movement and during the advent of the Black Panthers, Black Muslims, and Black Power, we began to claim Blackness with pride.
Since living abroad, I’ve learned that this isn’t the case in many parts of Africa. Racial labels don’t really exist because everyone there is Black. In most of…
