Who is Black? 

After living in Ghana, it’s easy to believe that I might’ve solved my identity questions and felt content knowing that I was Black and an Afro Chicagoan. Very wrong. In coming to  understand who I was, I realized there were more things I could understand about who I wasn’t, and how I wasn’t those things. I went to live in Morocco for a year. I chose Morocco because I had experience living in a non-Black american dominant culture but it was still a Black African culture that I could relate to, religiously similar to Chicago (Christian majority with Islam influence), and anglophone. If I stayed quiet, more often than not, I could easily blend without issue. Remembering all that I’d learned in my Islam is West Africa course at University of Cape Coast, I decided I needed to understand more about Islam and its connection to Black Africans. In Black American culture, Islam is viewed as an antithesis to Christianity like a ‘woke’ religion while Christianity is viewed as the ‘white man’s’ religion. In Ghana, the information provided a more expansive interrogation of the validity of that stance. Islam was spread throughout Africa by force (albeit not to the same level as the Trans-Atlantic Slave Trade in the americas) but there were economic benefits to converting to Islam and denial of trading if someone refused to abandon their indigenous religion or Christianity (more on this here  https://www.metmuseum.org/essays/trade-and-the-spread-of-islam-in-africa). Not to mention, that the Quran also condones enslavement (which had been going on for all of human existence BUT never like what was done in recent history against Black Africans), both the Bible and the Quran makes mention of enslaved people still having rights and humanity neither of which happened in the americas. I also couldn’t understand how people could be African but not Black and I needed to see that for myself. 

In Ghana and then almost immediately after Ghana, I dated two men who were smarter than me, tough times, fr. I couldn’t stand them.  (Mostly, I hated how wrong I was a lot. They were cool.) But they were both so well read and one was incredibly philosophical, he pulled a me on me but more than me. Like, nothing was what it was and everything was deep. Knowing both of them in conjunction really forced me to grow and stretch myself. I realized I had to read more to actually hold opinions that went beyond a strong conviction. I still respected my ~ways of knowing~  but I am less attached to my ideas and more receptive to new information changing my mind. In Ghana, I had to learn a lot about global economies and the difference between a ’political state’ and a country and that was a big word for Elmo because I am from the United States so I was quite confused a lot. Back in Chicago, I had to unpack gender, gender identity, sexuality, how true liberation had to exist across race, religion, class and in order to truly prioritize revolution, I couldn’t only be Pro - Black but Pro-humanity (even typing that annoys me) but the man was more than right, I just wasn’t ready to accept that. 

The conversations I had in Chicago with my incredibly philosophical then boyfriend is ‘what does it mean to be Black?’ We talked a lot about reparation and who would be eligible to receive them, and how. My thoughts were something along the lines of if you were a Black american whose ancestors were enslaved during 1619 - 1860 and if your family continued to live in the South through sharecropping, Jim Crow, and segregation then you’d be eligible for reparations. But the conversation would center on how the USA, a political occupying state on Native land, could grant land to Black americans and the validity of such a gesture. We see this sort of connection with Germany giving Jews land that belongs to Palestinian as reparations for the holocaust. They were never authorized to provide that land to right a wrong. Focusing on the liberation of Black African people means that I do not care about Native americans ever receiving justice if it means I have mine, but a dedication to collective libertions means that we find a solution for Black americans to receive what’s owed to them while promoting the return of this land to indigenous people (which technically means a variety of races since Native american isn’t a racial indicator alone, like Arab and Latinx). But, this means the question continues, if Black americans are to receive reparations (like 40 acres and a mule) well where do we go and how can we get what’s owed to us without displacing others? Also, since Black americans were brought here by force and tended the land and forged a culture in this country, does it make us entitled to claiming ownership of some parts of the land? 

The question that must be solved before that question can be answered is: Who is Black? Is it a political identity, a racialized identity, something that changes based on geographical location, is it an identity connected to African-ness? Is it something that exists in opposition to racialized whiteness? My definition is a bit controversial these days because it takes a lot into account; it is fair to say that it exists on a spectrum for me. So we all understand where we’re heading, I am of the opinion that engaging in sexual acts with your non-preferred gender does not change your sexuality because again, to know who you are, you must be confident in who you’re not. 

All of these thoughts led me to Morocco. I needed to see people who were African but not Black and see how (and if) race existed where there was more of an emphasis on culture and religion than skin tone. There’s also a distinct difference between the Malcolm X before and after Hajj and in learning that true liberation meant radical connectedness, I knew I needed to create my own opportunity to unlearn my radical pro-Black teachings to be a better citizen of the global world (more on this here, https://www.thoughtco.com/malcom-x-in-mecca-2353496). 

I came to understand that my idea (and possibly yours) of who is Black is informed by the West African phenotype: wide nose, full lips, brown - deep brown skin, kinky coily hair, (a dump trunk if you’re really Black), almond eyes, pronounced cheek bones and an etched facial structure. Culturally, you ate a lot of rice, beans, variety of greens, plantains, you seasoned the food, you broke a part whatever colonial language you were assigned and made it your own, you had to be fly, there’s some acknowledgement of the realness of hoodoo/voodoo and God / Allah is at the folds of everything you do. But some of these things were not present in Morocco yet I still found myself feeling like some of them were Black or at least would’ve been in the Jim Crow South, but I also would categorize some Indians (from India, not from the Dakotas those are Native / First Americans, babe) as Black. Why not? They are Brown skinned and meet most of my other listed requirements but again, is being Black something prescribed to you or something you can subscribe to yourself? That is the question I toy with even now. 

While I could imagine that I’d have to uncover the nuance of how race and colorism works, what I couldn’t imagine is how non-existent the understanding of the Trans-Atlantic Slave Trade was for a lot of Moroccans; they didn’t have a direct connection with Black African history in the Global North and there were many times where my Black, African, and American identities perplexed Moroccans. I also thought about race a lot and how race is really a combination of phenotype, cultural practices, and geographical location. Each of these indicators of race have some caveat and exist on a spectrum for me, Morocco made me question how wide that spectrum is, and if someone racializing themselves is a necessary component of race or if race is assigned. 

How is it that the image of Black has become almost synonymous with some variation of West African features when the only African country to have never experienced direct colonization is Ethiopia? While Ethiopians are brown and can be a deep brown, they are typically on the lighter side of Continental Africans, their hair is a more loose texture, their noses (generally speaking) are more narrow. Some people will say East Africans look more Arab even though their religious breakdown mimics West African Countries. But if we view Black and Arab as an indicator of religious and cultural tendencies, some general phenotype, geographical indicators, can people be both? To me, yes, I use the phrase Black Arabs, for Black people across East, West, and North Africa where applicable.

In Morocco, I’d often see evidence of a Black African heritage but even now I am confused about how it all works (I welcome any information on the matter). But there were Moroccans with brown skin and hair so big that their hijab wouldn’t lie flat and then there were Moroccans who were very light with less textured hair who would pick ‘white’ on an American census. Rice was not a staple in their diet but couscous, which to me feels very un-Black even though other Black Arabs eat couscous. There were also very obvious practices of racism, xenophobia, and colorism within Moroccan to Moroccan relationships, and even more so for individuals of Sub-Saharan descent (more on this here https://www.arab-reform.net/publication/ending-denial-anti-black-racism-in-morocco/). 

I wish I could say I’ve figured out who is Black and that race is a science but as someone who loves wearing Black as an identity I must also fully acknowledge that it is a construct made to categorize people and fuel division. I would never take a ‘human first’ stance or advocate for us to pretend we do not see the physical difference between each other; the denial of each other’s full humanity is what has been weaponized for centuries. But we all must begin to forge relationships across our own identities and do the hard (and DANGEROUS) work if we truly want to commit to liberation.