#beingafrican

[kartiavelino]

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[imlearningstuffandthings-blog]

African Gyal in My Brothers’ World

I wonder…

What is it like to have brothers who respect you? What does it feel like to have siblings who care about your life, your feelings, your aspirations, your success?

What is it like?

So I was born in Cote d’Ivoire. For those of you who don’t know, that is a country in west Africa. My mother, aunt, grandma, and I moved to the United States when I was 3 years old. My mother met my step-father when I was 4. I am now 19. I have spent my entire childhood and early adulthood here in grand ol’ America, while having pretty traditionally African parents.

There’s been some pretty major culture clash.

I grew up with the new Western ideology that as a woman, I am equal to a man in every way. I am not his maid, his servant, his cook, or his slave, I am to be valued as a productive member of society whether or not I join the workforce or choose to stay home as a housewife. My voice matters. My opinion matters. My choice matters. (I know all of these aren’t necessarily true or 100% there yet but this was my thinking growing up as a child. Bear with me as I talk through adolescent naivety.)

However being from a pretty traditional African family**, all those things weren’t always equal. I am the only girl of 5 children (in the house) and I could always spot the differences between my treatment and that of my brothers. When I was the tender age of 8 years old, my mother started teaching me to cook and clean. She cited constantly that these were things I needed to be capable of doing as a woman because I will never find a husband to do these things for me. My brothers? They had little to no responsibility because housework does not equal men’s work. They will find wives to serve them. They can be content sitting and watching TV while I make sure my dad and everyone else had dinner that night while simultaneously taking care of my baby brother and cleaning the house whenever possible as I go.

Just to put this in perspective, I was around 11-12 years old at the time.

Now, I always took care of my responsibilities the way dutiful, African daughters must. But I never, not once in my life, agreed with these principles and I despised that my brothers were growing up thinking that this was okay and the proper way to live. I am relieved that at least as I’ve grown older and had more authority to assert (at least on the younger 3) my brothers slowly began to and are continuing to pitch in around the house with chores - especially as I am no longer home during the year to do so myself.

The reason I talk so much about my history is because I honestly believe that my brothers’ lack of understanding of me is deeply rooted in this way of being raised. They have very little care for how the tiniest bit of consideration on their part could make all of our lives much easier. They make plans without my consent and I am meant to quietly go along with their decisions and accept whatever it is they want. I am expected to be understanding of their needs, their feelings, and their thoughts but they do not have to return the same courtesy. When I am vocal about being angry and hurt and share my frustrations, I am “crazy,” “too emotional,” and “angry.”

I can’t win.

**I can only speak for mine and personal friends/family experiences growing up as an African girl in America. I in no way want to generalize all African families in this way as there are plenty of modern, progressive ones out there.

[tselimotsoane-blog]

AFRICA STUDIES JOURNAL ENTRY 3- Saying things people will resent you for.

A few days ago I had a conversation with my friend and classmate (my honey OT) about our research and the journey thus far. She is doing a very controversial study that touches on religion and its role in  African laws. I honestly cannot wait to read her dissertation, I get the feeling it will change my life. Anyway so I was telling her about how nervous I was about telling the truth while conducting my research. I know a lot of people that believe in Pan-Africanism and revere the leaders that will be the subject of my study. I know a lot of people that believe all Africans must unite as one in all the facets of life. People that believe there is an all encompassing resolution to African problems. There are people that stand firm in the belief that Africans have one identity. In my research I am going to have to be the bearer of bad news, the one that refutes all these beliefs. African people and people of similar descent have experienced gruesome injustices across the continent and while we stand for very similar things I think that only an idealist believes our problems, cultures, methods of governance, etc. can be fused into one. 

Looking back at the short first draft of my research proposal I see how apprehensive I was in saying this. I too believe in the unity of African people, I am a firm believer in #BlackGirlMagic, #BlackLove, and any other hashtag or movement that puts us all in one delicious melting pot of Blackness. The reality however is that we are an incredibly ethnically and culturally diverse continent. Each of these cultures is made up of strong principles and values, each equally beautiful and worth acknowledgement. At the end of the day we are different but the same and a lot of the literature and discourse on Pan-Africanism makes little mention or recognition of this. I am going to have to dig deep and work hard to support these statements, but I am closer to doing that than I am to proving the success and to an extent legitimacy of Pan-Africanism. 

xoxo 

Tseli 

[senegallife]

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[the-kings-things]

“My name is Fela Anikulapo Kuti, Fela means, he who emanates greatness, Anikulapo means, one who has death in his pouch, Kuti means, one who never dies. I grew up in Europe, everything was European background; the teachings, schools. My father was a pastor, and we were thought everything in English Language. We were not even allowed to speak our country’s languages in schools, they called our own languages vernacular, so English was the rare language we had to speak in school. Everything was English. Nobody was thinking whether to be African or not we just accepted that we were English. It was in England I began to feel the awareness of how to regain Africa; I became aware that we Africans had nothing to offer there because we were just taught English”

Fela Anikulapo Kuti