Back To Africa: Why I Am Not Going

I cannot go back to Africa, or China, or Germany, or Mexico. I have never visited any of those places. 

I was born in Jamaica, West Indies. It is a stunningly beautiful island teeming with warm, exuberant people, pristine beaches, and delectable food. Except for the occasional visit, I don’t plan to go back there. I made my home in the USA decades ago, and this is where I plan to stay. 

Upon my arrival in the US, I experienced emotions natural to anyone in my situation--culture shock, homesickness, sadness and depression. Nothing strange there. Those feelings faded quickly enough as I acclimated to my new environment. Eventually they gave way to curiosity, excitement, and a desire to explore this new culture. I jumped in with both feet.

Decades later, the expectations of a naive, young immigrant have all but disappeared. Optimism turned into disappointment. Hopefulness became resignation. Ebullience is now apathy. At the heart of my dilemma is the realization that in this society, after so much time, I still have not found a comfortable fit. No need for alarm; this is not a diatribe on race relations or diversity. It is part of my story. That’s all.

Anyone who knows me well can testify to my eclectic tastes. I am all over the map, passionately embracing what moves me regardless of cultural origin. Music moves me. It’s exciting to fully appreciate various genres of music; rock, classical, soul, world, hip hop, opera, country, blues...I could go on. The only requirement is that I must be moved in an intensely personal way. Ditto for theatre. Ditto for film. Ditto for friends. Especially friends.

As I negotiate the meandering paths of my daily life, I am struck by the notion that my friends often see me as the representative for my entire race. I don’t understand this. They don’t understand why I am taken aback. The things people say to me sometimes catch me so completely off guard that often I cannot react appropriately in the moment. Thankfully, my filters work well, and I don’t respond out of pure emotion. When I think about it later, the moment has passed. By the time my well-thought-out response is ready, it seems trivial and out of context. Here’s an example.

When I attend black-centric plays with white friends, they often ask me to explain the culture of “your people” as if "my people" landed here recently from a galaxy far, far away. It seems they see me as an encyclopedia with answers to all their questions about black culture everywhere. I do not expect my gay friends to speak for the entire gay community. Nor do I expect my Hispanic friends to answer all my questions about Latin cultures around the world.

I want to tell these people I do not have answers to all of their questions because I was not taught about black culture. I want to tell them that I was taught more about their history and culture than my own. Most of what I know of black history and culture I learned on my own. I want to tell them that I did the research, and that if they have an interest, so can they. I want to say these things, but I don’t say them when it’s most effective. My goal is not to offend. I believe they, also, don’t mean to offend. However, their questions appear thoughtless, and lazy. 

I concede that it’s difficult to navigate conversations about race and cultural diversity. Things we say can easily be misconstrued as offensive. I am not so concerned with political correctness. That is often a red herring that distracts us from making the effort to communicate effectively. However, I believe that if we speak from a place of honesty and respect, we can get our points across clearly and without injury. Similarly, the other side can receive them without offense.

The older I get, the more I realize how proud I am to belong to this beautiful rainbow family. I celebrate the many hues that comprise the black race. I believe everyone should exhibit cultural pride and celebrate their heritage. However, pride does not signify superiority. I’ve come to accept that to navigate the dominant culture, I must sometimes appear to be diplomat, psychologist or masochist. Above all, I must learn how to gracefully turn the other cheek. This education has served me well. I expect the same in return. I don’t need lip-service or politically correct throwaways to be comfortable. I require honest and respectful interaction.

I do not intend to relocate to Africa. I would dearly love to visit that amazing continent. I am certain it would be an unforgettable experience. But I do not want to live there, because I live here. This is my home. 

And I am telling you, I am not going.