This week’s reading really inspired me to be creative. This
concept of critically conscious narrative/counternarrative made me think about
how to use narration to “de-Other” by allowing someone to “imagine the mind of
the oppressed and to see, and perhaps vicariously experience, the world through
their eyes” (Willis et.al 112). My friend and I were brainstorming when she
came up with the idea of writing a narrative about racial identity, but
exchanging our narratives with one another in order to get both the experience
of being “the other” as well as getting to see the world through someone else’s
eyes (I think I said that right). Basically, the idea is that each person
starts to write their own story, you trade papers with one another, and then
you add on to the other person’s story from your own perspective. Once we made sense of it, we decided to add
my mother and my niece to the equation.
We chose to
write about the different perspectives in the racial identity of being African-American,
and whether or not the “hyphen” is the absence or presence of identity. We call
it: The Hyphenated African. My friend
is east African, and she wrote about identifying as “African”. I wrote about
identifying as just “American”. We had my mother write about identifying as
both African and American—hence the need for hyphenation (mainly because she
was around for the all the name changes, movements, and racist stuff). Then I
had my niece write about how she identifies herself, because she is mixed and requires
more hyphens to define who she is (pretty perceptive for a 10 year old). Here’s
what we came up with:
Zam Zam: Growing up I
was told to be proud about my heritage. I was told not to forget my history. To
do so would disgrace all those who died protecting it in the civil war in
Somalia. My mother even took it so far as to check the "other" slot
when filling out documents asking about race. Even though we were naturalized
as US citizens, she refused to check African-American. She refused to consider
she was hyphenated in any manner. Eventually this rubbed off on me. You see I'm
not a first generation--- I'm an immigrant like my mother from Somalia. I came
here at the young age of 5, at times I'm so Americanized that I relate more to
the American culture than my African one. However, in the end, I can tell I
don't fit in the African-American culture. The label doesn't capture the
collective experiences I've had in my lifetime. I may look African-American but
I identify myself as African who is American. I am not hyphenated nor will I
accept that label.
Me: I am not African.
I am not from Africa. I am from America. I was born on American soil, to
American parents, and many of my ancestors were Native American. I am more than
just the descendant of former slaves. Although it is a part of my history, I refuse
to allow slavery to define my identity. You cannot “hyphenate” me. You cannot “Other”
me, create a separate label for me, but still allow me to be an “—American”. I
was an American before there was an America.
Mom: Our ancestors were brought from Africa as slaves to
America. Our people helped to build this country, and because they were slaves they
never got any pay for their work. Without the work of slaves there wouldn’t be
an America. Our ancestors earned the title of American. The best way to describe
Black people is African American. Black is an acceptable way to refer to us, or
Negro if you know how to pronounce it correctly.
Ladybug: (Note: because of her age I had her answer
questions rather than write a paragraph)…
Q: What are
you? (Name all).
A: German, Irish, French, Indian,
Black, White, Black-Frenchman
Q: Are you African? Why?
A: No, I don’t think I’m African
because out of all the parts I’m made of that’s not on my list.
Q: Are you American?
Why?
A: Yes. Because I am free. An
American is someone that was born and raised in America.
Q: Are you
African-American? Why?
A: No. Because I’m
only American which is halfway not fully African American.
No comments:
Post a Comment