Posted by I have been responding to the name Dora for as long as I have lived. That is my name. In Greek it means “gift of God.” My mom says that she named me after a legend, Isadora Duncan, a famous and gifted dancer who brought into conception the art of ballet dancing. Based on legal papers, I am a citizen of Kenya–which happens to be a country in the continent called Africa. But at times, I prefer to say that I am just a human being.
I have never known many people, but the ones I have met have influenced my life in ways that could make me either loathe or proud to be a human being. And I have also come to know with age that there are different classes, all attributed to skin color; white, yellow, black and red. The reds are very few since they have been almost extinct for a while now–the ones that exist in some parts of Canada have inter-married. What of me? I recall asking our maid once, while watching a famous soap opera back in the days called The Rich Also Cry and she said of them, “They are white.”
“Then what am I?” I asked.
“You are black and certainly not one of them.”
“But don’t we all speak?”
“Yes, but you are not one of them, and can never be.”
“Then why was I named after one of them?”
I am still waiting for an answer to this question. It is a matter that I have constantly battled with but never getting an answer. All my life I have been told I am black and made to feel two things: white is superior and black is inferior. I will never be like them, yet the basis of my education, religion, culture, socialization, dressing, entertainment and health is all white! So is this to say that I am a white person trapped in a black person’s body, or just that I am human? I prefer the latter.
But it hurts to know that it is a fellow black who puts us down, who says that I am no good, that we are no good. Is that what being black is all about? Inferiority? It is true that over the centuries black people have been associated with the inhuman act of slavery; whipping, hanging, cursing, torture and in being the despised, but we have focused too much on the pain that all these acts perpetrated upon us have caused us that we have failed to look at how far we have come. Our character is strong to have persevered through all this. What are our strengths? What do we then have that any human being would give to have? Our skin, it is beautiful, the first drum beat, herbal medicine, culture and customs that have stood the test of time, nature, unfathomable beauty and hope, we have hope…something that any human being needs at all times to achieve his/her dreams. The strength to have endured the worst acts against humanity crowned by pride is what black is: victorious not victim.
In Africa, we have poor roads, low mortality rates, insufficient funds, corrupt leaders, poverty, civil wars, witchcraft and the list is endless. We seem to be forever at the mercy of donor aid, but we still hold a grudge against those who colonized us. This pulls us back. Black people should stop being victims of colonization; it has been over sixty years since we were colonized and approximately forty five more since we gained independence…what have we done with this new found “freedom?”
Have we not used it to destroy Africa instead of build it? Whilst February is Black History Month in Kenya, it would be wise to focus on what black should be because times have changed and the society in which we live has become complex. Africa has westernized and right now the world has become what most people call a “global village” through globalization. Africans have taken a lot of time in playing the victims of colonization and as a result have failed in numerous accounts to develop economically, socially and technologically.
The one thing that should change is our mentality. We should stop saying we are inferior and rather work hard towards being superior. Black to me is the epitome of beauty. It is bold, beautiful, talented and fabulous. I am black, my skin color reflects it, but so does my pride. I choose to live for a better today and tomorrow, where children do not sleep in the streets, where they play till dusk and go home to the loving arms of caring parents, for a corruption-free nation, for the documentation of my culture and customs that out of it may spring knowledge for the future, that is what I live for. My question to you is this: Are you courageous enough to believe in it and more?
Related Posts:
- Africa Since Independence: A Comparative History
- Of Oil and God: A Month in Ghana
- Slave Narratives: the Bedrock of Black Literature?
- Issues in Black Mental Health
- The Fall of Minister Pierre
These Eyes by Alton Ellis