On Africa, Part III: The Re-Cap...

This entry is more for a personal reminder than to convey any particular thought...

Aburi Gardens. Golden Tulip. Home Touch. Frankie's. Kokrobite. Cape Coast. 2 twins = double room. Black outs. Electricity shortages. Water shortages. Bucket showers. Have. Volta. Wli Falls. Stalkeration. Bartering. Kente Village. Adinkra Village. It's nice to be nice. Big Milly's. Oasis. White. Black. Obruni. African. Hyphen. American. Give me a good price. Drama. More drama. Laughter. More laughter. Even more laughter. HRAC. Human rights. Judicial system. Supreme Court. No security. Insecure. Automatic weaponry. Rasta. Natural. Fat American. Taken. Spoken for. Belong to someone. Canopy walk. Kakoum. Larteh. Funerals. Dancing. Music. Family. Missing. Gold. Not gold. Art Center. Noodle lady. Donut lady. Briz Bar. Epo's. Forex. Barclay's. Gutters. Car trouble. Baby girl. Meat pies. Papaye. Urban Taste. Melting Moments. Anger. World Cup. Patriotism. Presidential Palace. Seamstresses. Taxis. Twist and Locs. Osu. Dzorwulu. Abelemkpe. Uncles. Aunties. Malaria. Stomach bacteria. Palm Wine. Guinness. Gin & Lime. Rhum. Those two songs we keep hearing. Atlantic Radio. Joy FM. Peace FM. Newspapers. News. Sweating. MTN. Vodafone. DSTV. Everything from South Africa. Juice. Water. Meat. No specifics. Late. Late. Late. Waiting. Rain. Flooding. Kumasi. Great Sports Hotel. Guest house. Village house. Someone's house. Outhouse. No plumbing. Jollof. Waakye. Kelewele. Banku. Okro Soup. Palm Nut Stew. Dark meat. Goat. Lots of goats. Long flight. Trotros. Buses. Pineapple. Watermelon. Coleslaw. Salad. Head balancing. Posture. Your chair could kill you. AIDS is real. Twi. Ga. Asante. Asantehene. Empress. Beach. Horses taking a crap in front of you on the beach. Accra Mall. Silverbird Theaters. Shoprite. Liquor Stores. Bad reception. Bad attitudes. Misunderstandings. Arguments. Reconciliation. Forgiveness. Fun. Experience. Adventure. Independence. Freedom. Maturity. Accra. Ghana.

On Naturalness...

I’m sure that all women of color are familiar with the politics of natural hair. As a “natural”, the political gamesWhether we have people asking us if we enjoy Neo-Soul music or assume we are militant, hair tends to send a message no matter what we do with it. However, there is one line of questioning that always makes me uncomfortable, especially when it comes from fellow naturals:

“Girl, you have good hair! What are you mixed with?”

Now, I love my interracial brothers and sisters, but why do people assume that (a) because my natural hair is curly, it is “good”, and (b) if hair is looser (3b/3c), I must be mixed? It seems like these reactions and assumptions are a throwback to the times when fair skin and looser textures of African-American hair were enough to guarantee more male attention as well as denote a purposeful line of marriages. Growing up, I heard stories from older relatives about families who would disown their children if they married someone with darker skin. I even heard one of my grandmother’s old friends tell her granddaughter not to bring any “nappy Black babies in this house”.

Why is race always included in the discussion, and what does this mean for different textures of hair? I recall a time when I was relaxed that I was told that I have “White people’s hair” and that was why it would straighten so easily. As a natural, I have had discussions about transitioning and how it was difficult to get accustomed to my newly natural hair, to which people would reply, “But your hair is so curly, how hard could it be?” As someone who BC’ed after being used to having relaxed hair that was taken care of by other people and having to learn how to take care of my hair like every other natural, I was hurt. To my sisters in the 4’s, let me be the first to admit that I know that most media outlets of the Western world wish to either fetishize your fro or box you out completely by telling you to relax. I will never say that I have experienced what you have, but I will say that I have always held a healthy dose of fro envy, especially when my hair began to fall from its weight. Your hair does something I wish mine could do on a daily basis…but I’m off topic.

To make matters in hair politics worse anyone who has watched a music video in the last decade or so can tell you that the archetypal “light-skinned girl with long hair” has not lost any of her clout amongst most rappers. It also doesn’t help that our fairer compatriots are often the ones with the most screen time in the media or seen as more appealing (Halle Berry, Beyonce, Alicia Keys, Tyra Banks) while the browner women are either relaxed or forced to fit the “earthy, motherly” stereotype (First Lady Michelle Obama, Jill Scott, India Arie, Naomi Campbell). There is an evident lack of diversity, and this does nothing to ease the hair tension.

I know that transitioning from relaxed to natural does not mean that all of the years of hearing a specific standard of beauty being praised, we should be able to move past it. Complexion and hair type should not be the sole reasons for praising someone. Compliment me on avoiding single-strand knots or clearing up a blemish on my face, not because I happened to be born with a random assortment of genes. The lingering ideas about how hair “should” be helps fuel the fires of people who encourage naturals to relax, so why are we letting this talk get into the community where all textures and lengths should be embraced?

Personally, I embrace it all. Curly, coily, kinky, nappy, fro, blown out, twisted, locs, braided, banded, wash & go, finger coils, frizzy, fuzzy, TWA, BSL, APL, MBL, and all those other acronyms. Black, White, Latino/a, Hispanic, Asian, African, biracial, multiracial, and everything in between. Good hair is hair that is taken care of, not hair grown from a specifically raced scalp.

The real secret of good hair?

Love, and a good inner circle to back you up when you aren’t feeling the love.

On Singlehood, Part I: The Questions...

You know, I often find myself faced with a lot of repeated questions, and sometimes, I feel like Pooch from The Losers, "Oh, this is stupid question day? Okay, it must be stupid question day. It's stupid question day and nobody told me." And you want to know my absolute favorite?

Why is such a nice girl like you single?

Well "person who felt it necessary to question my personal life even though, 98% of the time, you have no business", I'll sum it up in a fun phrase for you: pre-emptive strikes of triflin-ness. Need clarification? This is your lucky day, because I have a list!

1) My own triflin-ness. There, I said it. Yes, I can take the blame for some of the reasons why I'm single. This includes my nasty habit of not making phone calls, my reluctance to "put myself out there" completely, and my pride. Yes, folks, pride is one of those deadly sins that all good Catholics are supposed to avoid, and I do make my attempts to do so, but I have my limits...

For example, if Young Man approaches me, we strike up conversation, the vibe is going nicely, and we begin to have regular communication, everything is going well. There seems to be equal interest from both parties, and then, out of nowhere, Young Man disappears off the radar. I say to myself, "Self, we are going to be mature about this and attempt to keep the lines of communication open. Maybe there's something going on in Young Man's life that he needs to deal with." Time passes, Young Man is not dead, as I could have assumed from his lack of communication with me, because I've found out from Random Mutual Friend, Young Man's Cousin, or even Facebook, that he's alive and well. Just not being responsive. Then, pridefully, I decide that I'm done because, "Eff that, I will not be the one to do multiple communication with no response." And so ends Young Man's chances...but his behavior brings me to my other point.

2) Other people's triflin-ness. Can anyone explain these situation to me:

Boy meets girl. Boy begins rapport with girl. Girl responds positively, encouraging further growth of friendship. Boy begins to send "signals" to girl. Girl sends "signals" back. Boy then tells girl all about his recent conquests, what he likes in a "partner", and how women can be raggedy, but in the same breath, compliments girl on all of her good qualities. Girl responds kindly, but wonders where this is going. Girl looks up and realizes that she has been banished to the Field of Friendship, never to be considered as anything more than "one of the guys".

Or.

Boy meets girl. Boy expresses interest in getting to know girl. Boy and girl hang out. Girl expresses enjoyment in response to "getting to know you" encounters. Boy, like Young Man, disappears off of the planet. Girl questions own sanity.

Or.

Boy sees girl. Boy expresses interest. Girl reciprocates. Boy and girl keep things casual, but see the potential in the situation, and say so to each other. Girl finds out boy is engaged two months later.

Okay gentlemen, I'm showing you my hand right now. From all of my personal experiences, experiences of my friends that they've told me, the movies I've watched, and the songs I've listened to, I find that your kind are very strange. You'll sleep with someone without knowing her last name, but in the morning she's a ho/slut/anything else you can think of, even though you initiated the encounter. You'll also find a woman that you find attractive, funny, kind, etc., but push her away for some reason. You'll tell someone that you want to be single right now, but then turn around and get married. You'll even marry someone who's willing to do most anything for you, but you'll cheat on her for some reason or another. I try my hardest not to write your kind off in general, because I have seen you operate in logical ways before, but to be honest, I'm just confused.

And tired of being questioned.

So, the next time someone asks me why I'm single, I'll respond thusly:

"Because..." and walk away.

On Interracial-ness...

Okay, I'm going to start this entry with a disclaimer: what I'm about to talk about is not something that I believe is exhaustive or in any way comprehensive, but a reflection on personal experiences over my short time of being on this planet and identifying as a Black American woman.

With that out of the way...

I have a hard time reconciling my feelings on the idea of interracial. This is influenced in a lot of ways, with the strongest influence being the nation I was raised in. America's decree of the "One Drop Rule" was introduced to me at a young age by my grandmother who was born in 1918. She told me that if a person has any bit of Black in them, they were Black. This includes people who may "pass" as white. Someone can be 1/32 Black, but there are still people in Black America who will label that person as Black. I understand why someone who is biracial or multiracial would want to avoid using this rule: it necessarily negates some part of their genetic makeup and part of their heritage. As I grew up, I have met a lot of people with mixed ancestry, and a lot of people who would be considered Black under America, and my grandmother's, definition, but would prefer to play up their "blackness" or "whiteness" when convenient.

For example, in high school, I received an award based on a standardized test that was given to people who denoted "Black" as their race when filling out the Scantron sheet. (sidenote: I also received an award from the same test when the entire pool of test-takers was considered, so we can throw out the affirmative action debate in this scenario.) My name, along with all the other Black women who received similar scores, were read of the PA system the morning that the school got the information. In my AP Government class, an "ambiguously raced" young woman said, within my earshot, "If I had put Black on the test, I would have gotten that award. It's not even that hard."

Gee...thanks? But, why would you want to label yourself for accolades only? You want to be Black when you can get a scholarship offer, but not when the affirmative action debate comes up? You want to be Black so you can ask for hair tips, but not when your White friends walk into the room? As I've been known to say: Everyone wants to be Black until the cops show up. However, Black is not a transient state...

See, it's "not even that hard" to mark "Black" when it's on a piece of paper, but to live "Black" every day isn't really a walk in the park for most people.

I don't want this to sound like a "woe-is-me" Black tirade about how being Black is always so difficult, because it's not always so difficult. Yet, by no means should anyone ever say that it is never hard. Especially when we turn to my other handicap: sex.

Uh-oh, I think I just heard some mouse clicks going to that "X" in the upper corner with that sentence. But don't run away, dearest reader, it's not going to be one of those entries either. You know the ones I'm talking about. No? You don't? Hmmm...how do I explain this?

It's not one of those "Black men ain't s***" or "Black men are all trifling" or "Black men are all dogs" posts. It's not one of those "White women are stealing all our men" or "why did he pick her" or "he's only with her because she's White" posts. It's definitely not one of those "successful Black women will never find husbands" posts. All that negativity is ugly and unhelpful. Besides, I have seen enough Black love to know that it's not the epidemic that the American media has made it out to be. I'm not downplaying the fact that successful Black women outnumber their male counterparts, but that's not the message I'm discussing today. No, reader, today I want to talk about the numbers game of interracial couples from the other side. What's going on with the representation of Black woman/White man couples?

I can only think of two movies where a Black woman/White man couple was central (Something New, Guess Who), and a handful of scenarios where it has come up (The Losers, Death at a Funeral, Storm and Wolverine in that alternate universe in X-Men, Halle Berry and her baby's daddy, well, Halle Berry and most of her movie roles (Introducing Dorothy Dandridge, Swordfish, and, lest we forget the Oscar winner, Monster's Ball), Naomi Campbell and her Russian lover who happens to still be married...). Now let's flip the script, and look at the Black man/White woman scenarios...actually, I'm not even going to type them all out, because I know that you've already surpassed the number of named occurrences above. I'm personally tired of seeing the majority of interracial relationships being represented in one way.

But, historically speaking, why am I surprised? In the older, uglier, years of the good ol' USA, White men were constantly talking about protecting the sanctity of White women while raping Black women. They felt that Black men would corrupt their women, and claimed that Black women were so sexual that engaging in sex acts with them was just satiating their ravenous nature. So for Black men, having a White woman can be seen as finally getting their hands in the cookie jar, while Black women are trying to recover from the negative images of ourselves being strewn around all across different media. Black men may have been dangerous, but Black women were little more than objects of sexual gratification. Add to this the fact that Black women were given the task to "keep the Black family together" while Black men were out fighting "the Man". We as Black women seem to be more infatuated with the idea of "Black love" than our Black brothers, even after the image of Black men choosing everything but us is repeatedly thrown in our faces.

Personally, I think love is love and is beautiful when shared between two people, regardless of color, but can we have some diversity in the presentations of interracial love. So, to all you rappers who want their Black women with big behinds, light skin, and long weaves; you casting agents who love pairing Black men with non-Black women without showing Black women the same consideration; and you White media outlets who fetishize Black women: stop. Because all you're doing is turning a word that could be one of the most inclusive into one of the most restrictive by normalizing one type of interracial relationship.

For all my interracial/multiracial people out there: when you say that you're not Black, remember that you aren't White/Asian/Hispanic/Latina either. I don't mean that bitterly, or want to insinuate that you must adhere to the one drop rule. On the contrary, I want you to wear all your cultures proudly and represent your uniqueness. I know that one culture may be the dominant one in the house, or that you may feel that you identify with one more than the other, and that's understandable; but it does not erase the other parts.

In the words of Shakespeare: "This above all, to thine own self be true".

All facets of thyself.

On Africa, Part II: Being a Foreign Black Person...

In the States, being Black is multi-faceted and the experience differs from person to person with the most common denominator being the fact that you know that you are oftentimes thought of as "the" minority when people talk about affirmative action and that you probably have been the only person of your race in the room at a given moment. So, to be honest with everyone reading, and myself, I will admit that when I thought about coming to Ghana, where W.E.B. Du Bois is laid to rest and Pan-Africanism was nursed in its infancy, I thought that there would be more acceptance of my "Blackness". I was not deluded enough to believe that I would look like everyone else or that people wouldn't think I was American/rich/a potential walking green card, but I did not expect the experience that I have had. I will use two examples to illustrate what I mean.

While traveling to see the beautiful waterfalls from an earlier post, we had to find a driver to take us to the park where the waterfalls are located. After standing in a crowd of taxi drivers all trying to pull us in different directions, we finally decide on a car. As I got into the car, and was about to close the door, a man looked directly in my eye and said, "You're too white." I'm sure my face was nothing less than shocked, because he started laughing at me. Too white? Me?

So let me get this straight... I'm too Black in the States, and too white in Ghana. Perfect. My initial thought is that we should take reparations from the US government, every European country involved in the US slave trade, and every African country with any number of slave castles or who had known ties to the Transatlantic Slave Trade. No? Yeah, I didn't think it was all that feasible either, but it made me feel better for about 3.95 seconds...

Then I thought about it from another angle. I remember once talking to my African-American Studies adviser and telling him that I believe that African-Americans often feel like that hyphen between the two words; caught between two worlds. We are tied to Africa by the resonating pigmentation of our flesh and the kinks in our hair, but we are not African. We also have, and still do, struggle to achieve equality in America. We have had one of the most traumatic experiences as a group of people in the United States. I am in no way saying that our experience is more intense, demoralizing, or painful than any other minority group that has been discriminated against, experienced "ethnic cleansing", or been targeted for genocide around the world. Right now I'm not trying to compare the experiences of other groups, but think about the experience that is closest to my heart.

See, when I bargain with a vendor here, they laugh at me if I say I am not rich or that I'm running low on money. At home, when I walk into certain types of stores, they assume I am too poor to afford any of their merchandise. Here, if I wear my hair out and curly, people assume it's a weave or ask me what I did to it. In an interview with a law firm, I would be considered militant or my hair would be called unprofessional. And on top of it all, the White tourists in Ghana receive the same preferential treatment here as in America for the most part. Meaning, while I am assumed to be rich, my skin denotes the fact that I will never be as rich as a White person. Which leads me to my next story...

For lunch, I often frequent a chop bar, which is like a street vendor in DC/NY except it's not movable. The women who work there are all Ghanaian and Black. The group I often venture to this chop bar with is mixed: Black, White, male, female. One day in particular, I'm the first of the group to arrive, and I order for myself and my roommate, who is also a Black woman from America. Behind us, three White men order similar dishes. We all sit down and as we sit down, I say to one of the White men, "Watch, you're going to get your food first, and I'm going to be pissed." Guess what happened...

Not only did the three of them receive their food first, when I pointed out who was eating and who was waiting, they all paused and looked around. My White male colleague quietly said, "This food tastes like guilt..."

The realization sank in that racism not only comes from people in the "dominant" race when you're a minority, but in nations that are predominantly of the same "race". I don't expect to be welcomed with open arms into your family's home and given preferential treatment, but I do expect to be treated fairly. But then again, why should my expectations of fairness be any different in a nation that was "founded" by the same people that established the country of my birth? Europe has really done a number of the brown populations of the world...and the effects seem to be everlasting.

And at the same time, I cannot sit back and expect for Pan-Africanism to be accepted by everyone and that all Africans and descendants of the diaspora will join hands in unity. There are a lot of differences and variations between all of us that may keep that from happening.

However, I do have hope. I have hope that, at some point in the future of this world, all of us will love our Blackness, in whatever way it manifests itself. I hope that Black people will get over this issue of color and not question others' pedigree or doubt their experience. I hope that our beauty will stop being ignored or fetishized. I hope that, someday, when I hear someone say they are color blind, I don't have to be afraid that they believe that, with Barack Obama's election, all of the racism in America was erased. I hope that, eventually, being articulate won't make me an exception, having a graduate degree won't make me an anomaly, and having natural hair won't make me different.

I hope.

On Africa, Part I...

Change in plans. Instead of posting the old emails I sent out to the family and friends, I've decided to write entirely new posts here. this may or may not have been influenced by the fact that I'm avoiding a certain assignment...but no matter.

Let's play a visualization game. Think about the word "Africa". What do you see? I'm going to guess that one of these four things popped into your head:

- Lions, gazelles, elephants, zebras, crocodiles, cheetahs, etc. You just went all safari on me in 0.2 seconds, didn't you? You thought about the savanna and all wonderful wildlife and how The Lion King was your favorite movie growing up, right? You were excited about the danger and beauty of nature, "mother earth", "The Circle of Life", and all that jazz, hm? Yeah, you just keep your hands and feet in the RV as we move along...

- Maybe you went all National Geographic on me. You know, topless women, Masai warriors, "tribal experiences" with faces painted and minimal clothing involving a language that sounds little more to you than grunts and/or clicks. You, my friend, have been watching too much Discovery TV, so let's change the channel...

- You may have forgotten all about the nature and history of Africa, and gone straight to the violence, chaos, and fraud. You just thought of a black Superman bent on crime who is an ex-child soldier, has experience as a Somali pirate, was one of the "bad guys" in Hotel Rwanda, and is asking you for your bank account information so you can retrieve some lottery prize. Shame on you.

- Perhaps you ventured elsewhere and landed in a "Feed the Children" ad. You're thinking about a child with flies near their eyes and mouth, drinking water from what looks like a puddle to you, being held by a mother who has a mixture of desperation, sadness, and anger in her eyes from the life experiences she has faced. You just wrote out a check for the Red Cross, didn't you? Well, before you tear that perforated sheet, let me talk to you a little...

Repeat after me: "I will not believe everything the media tells me about Africa." Feel better already, don't we? But seriously, Africa is a part of the world, and as such has come into the 21st century along with all of the other continents. In addition, it is a CONTINENT. This means that there are different places all around with different languages, food, music, clothing, wildlife, etc. Do poverty and crime exist? Yes, just like the rest of the world. Is there wildlife and are there still some villages? Of course, but the same can be said about every other continent. And don't think that these types of assumptions don't creep into the minds of Black people in the "westernized" world... Black folk, you aren't fooling me. You grew up with the same biased media, so I'm looking at you, too.

The biggest difference here? Most of the people are Black. Shocker, I know. But just because the complexions may fall along a similar area of the spectrum does not mean everyone feels the same way about race, color, or identity. This is not the place to arrive as a Black American wearing a dashiki and expect everyone to throw their arms around you and accept you as their own. While this does happen occasionally, you may not find what you thought you would. For example, you may think that because you landed in the first independent African nation, where two of the greatest minds of Pan-Africanism converged and conversed, that you would feel an overwhelming sense of Black pride. You will have your dreams deflated and possibly suffer a small mental crisis if this is what you assume. I'll have tissues and a hug waiting for you when you get back...

So before I begin to discuss my experiences in detail, I just wanted to start everyone at the same place and with a clean slate.

this, too...

just a glimpse of my adventures...

flaura sans fauna

on being abroad...

i have been abroad for about a month and a half at this point, and there are so many things that i have seen and experienced that i've written about in the random updates that i've sent out to friends and family (sometimes with pictures. fancy, right?) i plan on copying those emails to this blog and expanding upon them depending on the topic. this post is mainly a "guess who's back in the house" post.

didja miss me?