There is this little spot I like to go to. Sort of like a cafe, it mostly serves breakfast food. They have an amazing iced coffee that reminds me of the coffee milk my Granny used to make me. Often I will go by myself, attempting to blend in and perpetrate like I’m Ghanaian. Everyone knows what I really am though.
This morning, a man came and sat next to me. The first thing that he said was, “Black American, am I right?”. Since I cant speak twi without an accent I had to admit. We began talking and he told me a little about himself; Ashanti, a law student, used to be in the seminary, and wanted to marry a Black American. The last bit was a shocker. I asked him why, and he said our complexion was a beautiful mix of the races. White and Black coming together, Beyonce was proof of this.
The idea that we are a mixed race is one that for many Americans is foreign. We usually see ourselves as just black, nothing but a color. After first coming to Ghana this stuck with me even more though it eventually went away. Where do I fit in the world? Can I really be classified as African without any designation of a country, ethnic group, or language? But what does America even mean? And after years of being here, I highly doubt that my people have finally completely assimilated. Why aren’t we considered a separate ethnic group with our own culture, music, food, and language? For once can we make claim to the contributions we have made to American society? Jazz anyone?
We are the original tragic mixed race. Created through hate and oppression we have still been able to overcome it all. The problem now is that we have forgotten where we came from in our attempt to assimilate. We have let so many of our children follow false prophets and worldly idols. Since being here I have prayed for answers about my next move. I’m trying to free people that don’t even know they are imprisoned.