While growing up – TV was my friend and what this friend taught me was that being Afrikan was some sort of a curse. I would wish and fantasise about eating a bit of the West so that I could be part of its glamour. I wished my tongue was a bit softer and my hair a bit straighter. I despised my culture and called it savagery and demonic. In perspective now, I wish I knew that the land that nurtured me was so rich and full of possibility. I envied what I saw on TV and thought only if I was born on the other side. An opportunity presented itself to migrate to the West and to finally live my dream, but to my surprise I was shocked by what I found out. I visited a country where an Afrikan Black man was not a common sight and this visit changed my life forever.
The inhabitants of that country marveled at my melanin. They were in awe at the perfect architecture of my curvaceous body. They wept at the touch of my hair – they couldn’t figure out what texture it was, silky, yet woolly with a touch of satin. They stared at the mastery in the craft of an Afrikan.
They taught me a lot about myself and where I come from. This unique craft can only resemble where it comes from right? Afrika was my home and I had to leave it to see what an amazing and unique continent it was, how glorious this Afrikan is. No longer will I be ashamed to say boldly that I am an Afrikan daughter. Born from the soil of Azania.
Afrika, your radiated luminance is full of flavour. Your ability to house over 2000 languages creates music into the atmosphere. A continent so gifted with culture, your soil is one of the richest. You are a home to some of the greatest wonders of the earth – from the great pyramids of Giza, to the Ngorongoro Conservation area climbing high to Mt Kilimanjaro and splashing at the Waves of stolen by Victoria right down to safety of the Cradle of Humankind.
Unfortunately, Afrika, your identity was stripped off. You were made an island of the west within yourself. Your children have to search and find you and put you back on the map as yourself
How I long for the day when Afrikans pause and decide to reclaim Afrika’s identity. To search and discover who we really are. No longer should you say “I am having a bad hair day” when you are wearing your natural hair, instead, you should embrace and discover your complexion and hair texture.
Being Afrikan means being able to realise the power within, that we are sons and daughters of the richest soil in the world. It is to understand that we are smart and intelligent and we have inventors on our soil. It is to understand that Maths and Science is not separate from creativity and it is not a foreign commodity. It is to undo the status quo of “if you want to hide something from an Afrikan, put it in a book”; it is to show how much Afrikan literature exists on this rich soil. It is to know that we are the inventors of Afrikan art. Our forefathers painted, choreographed, acted and directed before they were “so called” taught. It is to celebrate those who are doing exceptionally world-changing feats on this continent. It is to know that we do not compete with any other continent or deem ourselves better but we do however, feel very comfortable and content on our own soil.
Let me imagine an Afrika founded on Love, Unity and Vibrancy. So I shout it from the mountain hill: being an Afrikan is knowing that we are the liberators of our own minds. We are the heroes of our own stories, that our past did not determine our destiny but rather it prepared and strengthened us for greatness.
Being an Afrikan is one who knows where they come from. An Afrikan is one who has to water their true roots to give fruition to a true identity, an identity that is not clouded by weeds, but rather embraced and hugged by the sunshine.
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