Love-Hate-Love Africa
I used to loathe Africa. I considered it to be backwards, disease-ridden, and poverty stricken. I imagined that most Africans still lived in nomadic, tribal societies, wore loincloths, and lived uncomplicated lives in the bush. For nothing in the world would I go to Africa. There was nothing of interest to me there and I considered it to be a place of little value.
My distaste for Africa increased when I started college in the fall of 2006. I was at an Ivy League school and I felt that every white person I met freshman year had volunteered or started some sort of non-profit to help Africa when they were in high school. I hated their passion and enthusiasm. I couldn't wrap my head around why a white girl from Orange County California would want to volunteer at an orphanage in Botswana. I was incredibly cynical and decided firmly that I would never allow myself to get caught up in their sick altruistic rapture.
To make matters worse I became a minority amongst minorities. Most of the Black students at my school were not Black American of American Slavery Decent. My Black (and they really hated being called Black) African classmates all had flags to wave from their respective countries. Rich cultures, experiences, and well formed identities about who they were and where they came from. Whereas I was from a spitdirt town in East Texas and barely knew my left from my right. The African students stood in stark contrast to me and everything else I had known up until then. I approached them with innocuous questions and statements about where they were from but I barely listened and learned much less.
The irony here is that I majored in Africana Studies (along with History). I did learn a thing or two about Africa in college. Not because Africana Studies is the precise study of the African continent (because it's not) but because for four years I was in a place with some of the brightest scholars from all over the world and the sorts of conversations one enters with classmates at a place like my school forces the mind to think differently and critically about certain assumptions and predispositions on places such as Africa. I let many assumptions die and reoriented my worldview and perspective on Africa.
Before I go any further, I'd like to put a handle on my comments on my feelings on Africa. They were not always that way. As far back as I can remember into my childhood my mother read to me African folktales. Black American folktales too but some of my favorites were about Anasi the Spider, Why the Sun and the Moon Live in the Sky, Mufaro's Beautiful Daughters, and I got into countless fights in kindergarden with white students explaining that Aladdin was from Egypt, Egypt is in Africa, so Aladdin is Black. When I was eight my godmother gave me a picture book biography of Shaka Zulu. I was fascinated and wanted to be a warrior king like him one day (minus the untimely death and burial in an unmarked grave). For most of my childhood I was obsessed with rocks, geology, digging to China, and the prospect of finding precious stones in my backyard with my little brother. Using the World Book encyclopedia's at my house I learned that many places in Africa were rich with the diamonds and emeralds that I so desperately sought after. I wanted to dig in Africa strike it rich.
People change. I certainly have.
And I've once again changed my perspective on Africa. I'm drawn to Africa now more than ever. I'm attracted to Africa so much so that my Master's Thesis is on natural resource management in Africa.
A small fraction, a microcosm of my soul wants to know where I'm really from in Africa. My family history as far back as I know is Texas. So I thank God everyday I have Texas to claim as my home since the days of The Battle of the Alamo and probably even further back than that. Both sides of my family. All Texan. But alas, before Texas, before America, the Williams Clan was strong and proud in Africa. Which brings me to another issue I wrestle with constantly. Africans sold my ancestors into slavery for beads, bells, muskets, and trinkets. Even though in the long run my family became Americans—it still bothers me that the people still in Africa today are the descendants of the ones that sold my people into slavery.
It's a strange history. And for decades there's only been one real winner.
So here I am with my newfound love for Africa. I have never been there but Lord Knows I'll hop on a plane a soon as someone gets me a ticket to go. I'm excited about my thesis and I'm certain it will be one of my greatest written works. That being said it will take a lot of work. But it's all worth it. Because I've read up on Africa, studied it more closely, and I want to see the best flourish and prosper there from now until the end of time.
This quote from the late, incomparable Chad "Pimp C" Butler of UGK sums up how I feel about everything I'm working towards and interested in on Africa:
"The reason why we like this, this jewelry and this diamonds and stuff, they don't understand is, because we really from Africa, and that's where all this stuff come from. And we originated from kings, you know what I'm saying? So don't look down on the youngsters because they wanna have shiny things. It's in our genes, know what I'm saying? We just don't all know our history, so—"
As soon as I heard this on Magna Carta Holy Grail I knew it was none other than Sweet James Jones and God rest his soul because from even beyond the grave he still sparks minds and inspires greatness.
My distaste for Africa increased when I started college in the fall of 2006. I was at an Ivy League school and I felt that every white person I met freshman year had volunteered or started some sort of non-profit to help Africa when they were in high school. I hated their passion and enthusiasm. I couldn't wrap my head around why a white girl from Orange County California would want to volunteer at an orphanage in Botswana. I was incredibly cynical and decided firmly that I would never allow myself to get caught up in their sick altruistic rapture.
To make matters worse I became a minority amongst minorities. Most of the Black students at my school were not Black American of American Slavery Decent. My Black (and they really hated being called Black) African classmates all had flags to wave from their respective countries. Rich cultures, experiences, and well formed identities about who they were and where they came from. Whereas I was from a spitdirt town in East Texas and barely knew my left from my right. The African students stood in stark contrast to me and everything else I had known up until then. I approached them with innocuous questions and statements about where they were from but I barely listened and learned much less.
The irony here is that I majored in Africana Studies (along with History). I did learn a thing or two about Africa in college. Not because Africana Studies is the precise study of the African continent (because it's not) but because for four years I was in a place with some of the brightest scholars from all over the world and the sorts of conversations one enters with classmates at a place like my school forces the mind to think differently and critically about certain assumptions and predispositions on places such as Africa. I let many assumptions die and reoriented my worldview and perspective on Africa.
Before I go any further, I'd like to put a handle on my comments on my feelings on Africa. They were not always that way. As far back as I can remember into my childhood my mother read to me African folktales. Black American folktales too but some of my favorites were about Anasi the Spider, Why the Sun and the Moon Live in the Sky, Mufaro's Beautiful Daughters, and I got into countless fights in kindergarden with white students explaining that Aladdin was from Egypt, Egypt is in Africa, so Aladdin is Black. When I was eight my godmother gave me a picture book biography of Shaka Zulu. I was fascinated and wanted to be a warrior king like him one day (minus the untimely death and burial in an unmarked grave). For most of my childhood I was obsessed with rocks, geology, digging to China, and the prospect of finding precious stones in my backyard with my little brother. Using the World Book encyclopedia's at my house I learned that many places in Africa were rich with the diamonds and emeralds that I so desperately sought after. I wanted to dig in Africa strike it rich.
People change. I certainly have.
And I've once again changed my perspective on Africa. I'm drawn to Africa now more than ever. I'm attracted to Africa so much so that my Master's Thesis is on natural resource management in Africa.
A small fraction, a microcosm of my soul wants to know where I'm really from in Africa. My family history as far back as I know is Texas. So I thank God everyday I have Texas to claim as my home since the days of The Battle of the Alamo and probably even further back than that. Both sides of my family. All Texan. But alas, before Texas, before America, the Williams Clan was strong and proud in Africa. Which brings me to another issue I wrestle with constantly. Africans sold my ancestors into slavery for beads, bells, muskets, and trinkets. Even though in the long run my family became Americans—it still bothers me that the people still in Africa today are the descendants of the ones that sold my people into slavery.
It's a strange history. And for decades there's only been one real winner.
So here I am with my newfound love for Africa. I have never been there but Lord Knows I'll hop on a plane a soon as someone gets me a ticket to go. I'm excited about my thesis and I'm certain it will be one of my greatest written works. That being said it will take a lot of work. But it's all worth it. Because I've read up on Africa, studied it more closely, and I want to see the best flourish and prosper there from now until the end of time.
This quote from the late, incomparable Chad "Pimp C" Butler of UGK sums up how I feel about everything I'm working towards and interested in on Africa:
"The reason why we like this, this jewelry and this diamonds and stuff, they don't understand is, because we really from Africa, and that's where all this stuff come from. And we originated from kings, you know what I'm saying? So don't look down on the youngsters because they wanna have shiny things. It's in our genes, know what I'm saying? We just don't all know our history, so—"
As soon as I heard this on Magna Carta Holy Grail I knew it was none other than Sweet James Jones and God rest his soul because from even beyond the grave he still sparks minds and inspires greatness.
Be inspired.
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