Author: diakathiam

African. 25 years old. I write my thoughts and experiences...

complex

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i am tired.

i’ve worked too hard and too long, everyday explaining your privilege to you. i never know the best way to tell you. i can never open my mouth, and say “you’re racist.” because we know your answer to that. you’re unappreciative. telling a group of black people that they are too loud, when we never uttered a word. your eyes fail to notice the others who are of your skin complexion. but your eyes never fail to be quick and glare at those whose skin color is darker than yours. you love learning about new cultures, but when will you learn mine. show me what you’ve learned. eating chipotle and indian cuisine does not mean you’ve learned a new culture. culturally appropriating by wearing an african dress does not mean you’ve learned a new culture. saying como estas or nagadef does not mean you appreciate a different culture. your privilege is painted permanently on your white skin. you do not associate yourself with us, “black people.” you try to forget that you’re white. but how can you? you say that i should forget about my skin tone, but how can i? i am black. how can i forget who i am when i am faced with bigotry for my skin color? tell me.

you are not alone.

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In my house, being a housewife is more important than being an educated woman. When I say that I must complete my homework, they say, you must cook first. I’m not saying that housewives are not educated. But the matter of the fact is, my education is meaningful. It is all I have. It is all I cherish. I do not know anything besides my education. They want me to be successful but how will I when they take my Sundays away. Days that I use to study and complete the things needed to be completed. I am lost and frustrated. No one is here to support me. It’s like I’m doing this for myself now, I’m no longer doing it for them because they never cared. I swear if they cared, they would understand. But they do not understand. I am 20 years of age, yet I do not know who I am as a person. I do not know my purpose in this world. I am always questioning my life; I question whether I belong in this world. I do everything possible to be a good daughter and do what is asked of me. Yet, I’m a disappointment because I lack wife material skills or housewife skills. I’m trying to be more positive and learn to deal with the struggles and obstacles that Allah has faced me with. It is so hard but I push through everyday. I just want to be a happy person. Deep inside, however, I’m this lonely girl who has lost all hope of life. Life to me is so meaningless. I am in a cage and I do not know when I will be released. I honestly have faith in Allah, and I believe that a lot of things happen for a reason. And that everyone is battling something. However there are some people who just cannot endure the pain anymore. They become so numb that they cannot cope any longer. I do not want to be at that point in life. I will continue to pray for Allah to give me the strength. Everyone should know that life is a gift and it is precious. You just have to carry it and think of it as a gift. You must handle it with kindness, care, and joy. You must be able to cherish every moment of it no matter what obstacles or struggles you are going through. You must love, and be patient with God. With every battle comes with a success. You will not endure this hardship and pain forever. Throughout your life, love and happiness will find you. Anger and sadness will also find you. It’s the gift of life. You must withstand and fight your battles. You’re not alone. Remember that. You are not alone and you will never be.

Pronounce this African Girl’s Name Right

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During my junior year of high school, I had a teacher who did not pronounce my name right. She did not try to learn or pronounce my name correctly for the entire school year. Yes, I am being serious, if you do not believe me. At first, I pitied her because she gave up trying to pronounce my name, but later on when I realized that she stopped calling me and would just point at me, I was fed up.  When my friends first realized this, they laughed, but then told me that I should talk to her about it. However, I did not talk to her about it, and now I regret it because I don’t want another student who has a unique name to have a teacher who does not learn and pronounce their name correctly. It is disrespectful.

What annoys me the most, are those types of teachers and people in general who try and give me nicknames because they cannot pronounce my name. No, I will not allow you to disregard the name that my parents and relatives gave me, the name that has meaning to it. People’s ignorance bothers me. Is it so hard for you to just learn someone’s name? Rather than giving me a nickname, I have a better suggestion: learn how to pronounce my name. I don’t care how long it takes you, as long as you are learning how to pronounce it. Use a flashcard, a whiteboard, or whatever, just learn my name. If it helps, why don’t you study my name everyday?

You’re probably asking, what about those people who want to be called by a different name? Well, that is their preference, because they are either so tired of people pronouncing their name wrong or they just want to be called something different. To be honest, it is easier to ask someone to teach you how to pronounce their name, then to disregard their name completely. Please, in the name of God, pronounce my name right.

Proud To Be An African

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My cousin once told me that she was not African, she was American. I wanted to cry, laugh, and slap her, all at the same time. We were having a conversation about our parents, and she brought up the topic of how our African parents always say that we are not Americans, so we should stop “trying” to be like them. She then went on to say that she was American because she was born in the U.S and that makes her an American citizen. I stopped her right there because this was the part where I wanted to cry, laugh, and slap her. I opened my mouth and told her this: “You are not American. Technically you may be American, but you are not. Just because you have a little piece of paper that claims that you are an American citizen does not make you a true American. Your culture and traditions are not American, but African. Your parents are telling you the truth. Please, don’t tell me that ‘I am American because I am an American citizen’ bull crap. Do not forget your origins, where you truly come from, and where your ancestors and family members come from. Do not forget that.”

Now I am not going to lie to you and say that I wasn’t in her shoes, when I actually thought that I was not African, but I was American. The reason being is that when I was younger, being African was like a disease. No one in my middle school liked Africans, so I always had to hide behind a hideous mask and tell people that I was American. To this day, I regret that experience and telling people that I was American when I truly wasn’t. I mean, to this day, to many people, being African is like a disease. These are the types of people who believe that there are no cities, mansions, and cars in the countries of Africa, only villages and huts. Sometimes I wonder where do these people learn to be so ignorant and narrow minded. So many stereotypes about Africans that just aren’t true. My eyes finally opened when one of my African friends told me to be a proud African. Now, when people ask me where I am from, with confidence, I would say, “Senegal.” My confidence grows each time I tell someone that I am African.

White America and Color Blindness

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When I think of the term color blindness, I think of colors like purple, red, and green. I remember when someone told me that they were color blind. I was confused, and I thought to myself, what colors can’t they see? I immediately panicked, thinking, oh my gosh, does it mean that they can’t see that I’m black? Please don’t laugh at my stupidity. But the odd thing is that after they told me that they were color blind, months later, I started hearing people on TV and on certain videos, saying that they are color blind. Now let me clarify what those people meant when they said that they were ‘color blind’: they cannot see race. You’re probably thinking, um okay… Well let me tell you what I’m thinking: what kind of nonsense and rubbish be this? (In my African accent). How the hell can you not see race? Are you blinded by white America, that you can no longer see color? You can no longer see my dark skin? Oh please.  

These people are uncomfortable about race and they have made themselves believe that avoiding the topic of race and saying that they are color blind only helps us black people. No, actually it does not. It makes us uncomfortable, for the simple fact that you want to ignore my blackness; you want to believe that there is no color in this world, there is only whiteness. Stop. Look at my skin color, and acknowledge it. Don’t look at my skin color and give me that bull crap, “I don’t see race, sorry, I’m color blind.” No, my friend, you are not colorblind, you’re just ignorant and afraid. Just admit the fact that white America has blinded you with its whiteness.
Moreover, for my black people, who choose to let these ‘color blind’ people humiliate and insult you, just please open your eyes, shine your eyes (again in my African accent). Don’t let these people ignore your blackness. Be proud of your blackness and speak up. The next time you see one of these ‘color blind’ people, and they tell you, “I don’t see race, sorry, I’m color blind,” you better tell them this: “You are not color blind. You have what is known as white blindness. You’re blinded by white America. Go to the hospital and get that checked out, my friend.”