Tag Archives: African

Some Things Never Change

There will always be that white man in the grocery store with that stare.

There will be always be that one Black leader rising from the ashes of the fire of misery of his country.

There will always be that Black businessman in the Mercedes-Benz with a white wife.

Some things never change.

 

There will always be the surprised glances at your impeccable English.

There will always be the sniggling at your heavy, magnificent African name.

There will always be suspicious ogling at her hijab.

Some things never change.

 

There will always be the white elderly woman who clutches her purse tighter as you walk by.

There will always be young white men who view your female Black body licentiously.

There will always be African woman who wear their gele proudly and dance with the slopes and arcs of the earth in their bones, the light of the stars in their eyes.

Some things will never change.

 

There will always be a white leader hellbent on destroying equality and liberty, and the path to unity and peace in the name of greed and power. Their names just change over time.

There will always be a Black boy who dreams of becoming a doctor. And makes it.

There will always be the future of freedom in the womb of our women.

Some things will never change.

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Identity

  Yesterday we celebrated African Liberation Day by making it the day we started Mothusi’s locs. His locs mean many things, they are about liberation. It is about resisting White, capitalistic patriarchal domination and upholding a love and self-acceptance of the African identity. An identity we are currently working on, both of us. We are surrounded by the dominant culture and see what we don’t want to become. So creating what we do want to become is a conscious effort. I am not forcing anything on my son. Self-realization and consciousness-raising comes when the time is right. It doesn’t matter if he has locs and an African name or a Black Lives Matter T-shirt, it is about what is going on within. Once again, it is that internal dialogue and self-direction.

We become what we want to be, by consistently being what we want to become each day – Richard G. Scott
 

  Internal confidence is the root of changing our self-perception. It does not matter what the dominant culture thinks or how they perceive you. As a liberated, conscious Afrikan you must not be externally directed;  and instead, you must be guided by your intuition, your morals and your values. It is not easy when the dominant culture ridicules, abhors and demonizes anything that is Black in order to create a blind reliance and allegiance to what they decide is socially acceptable. This was never meant to include our African history and culture, our unique hair and beautiful melanin-rich skin or include us, as a people, whole. Therefore, we must look to internal clues to guide us away from what represses us, from what tries to obscure the visualization and creation of the liberated Black self, and we must realize this identity.

    When I step outside with my hair wrapped in a crown, I am met with darkened scowls and hostility. If my hair is in a bun or a neat ponytail, I am subjected to conditional love and acceptance, on their terms. No, thank you. I will continue to resist and continue to find the true identity of the liberated Afrikan woman. It may make you uncomfortable, but, that is your problem, not mine. JAH blessings.

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All of You

   I recently found a photojournal piece here with 9 heartwarming pictures of Afro-Iranian children. With an Afro-Iranian son, I was interested to see that in the southern region of Iran, these two cultures cohabitate harmoniously. Both Iran and Africa have long, rich history and culture, both that I look forward to sharing with my own son.

   

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The more one knows of their history, the higher their consciousness is. Knowing that Africans have existed in Persia since the ninth century, it is only natural to want to unearth the truth. And that is what we are seeking: the history of the Afro-Iranians which is a neglected racial minority but a group that exists nonetheless.

   And I want my son to be proud of his African roots and his Iranian roots, too. That is why I purchased a shirt for him that boldly had AFRICA written across it, and then purchased a few Iranian ones, on second thought. One with the Iranian flag, and one with Zarathustra and a beautiful gold lion. It reminds both of us that no matter what you are, to be proud.

I Ni Ce!

I ni ce! I ni ce means “hello” in the  Bambara language of Africa, spoken primarily by Malians (people of Mali). My paternal family that was enslaved and brought to Roseau, Dominica in the West Indies comes from Mali. Many people from Dominica (the original name of the  isle being Wai’tukubuli’ meaning “long is her body” in Kalinago” come from Mali, Guinea and Senegal in West Africa.
Since deciding to legally change my slave name to Nomolanga Achieng Eksenwe and my son’s French name to Chilongola Masego Eksenwe, I’ve begun to learn more about the rich history of Mali from the Mali Empire to present day traditions and customs. I know I cannot continue the African legacy of my ancestors “Davis and Celestine” without acquiring the knowledge to teach myself and my son Malian culture including the Bambara language, which is surprisingly easy to learn.

Just as Chinese-Canadians or Indian-Canadians practice some cultural aspects of their native heritage (as well as aspects of Western culture, inevitably); I too, want to teach my son about the rich ancient history of Africa from Menes and Thebes to Queen Candace of Ethiopia and Queen Tye.

   My family has ridiculed me about my newfound Black consciousness which begun ironically, in a rural White town I moved to where I clung to a wise, white Rastafarian woman with boundless knowledge of African and Black culture as well as four, beautiful Black Rastafarian children she has that are homeschooled and taught real Black history and critical thinking. It was her who lent me books on ancient Africa and encouraged me to change stubborn Westernized views about myself and my people. In the process, though I have much to learn, I have learned to be even prouder of being African.

   With the emergence of the Black Lives Matter movement, which, with a Black son, has sparked my interest and who I hold solidarity with, I began to read the works of Angela Y. Davis, Assata Shakur, Huey P. Newton, bell hooks, Frederick Douglass and others. This furthered my knowledge in racism and sexism and also helped me to see that my people are not just oppressed and without hope. We have fought long and hard since we were removed from Mother Africa. We did not readily accept slavery, we brave men and women and we continue to fight oppression and systemic racism today. So, I say, hello, to all my African brothers and sisters and to all our brothers and sisters because we are of one race: the human race. Unity and peace is what I strive the world, and self-acceptance and self-love of my Blackness is what I strive for in this blog.

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