The Evolution of My Blackness

Being African American means that you hang in the balance. You’re not truly African, you lack the culture and teachings. But, you know your roots are somewhere in Africa. And yes, you’re American. But, it’s been forced on you and it’s not who you are. Your identity is a tug of war between who you should have been and who you were forced to be.

I am no different. I have spent years swinging back forth between the two. Trying to find my way. Hoping to land in a place where I can truly feel a sense of belonging. I knew at 9 that I wasn’t like my other friends who were all white. I went to white schools, went to predominately white churches, and was the only Black family in my neighborhood till I was in high school.

When I was around Black family members or family friends I remember it being painfully obvious that I wasn’t “Black enough”. I wasn’t up to date on the culture, I talked funny, and I dressed differently. I wasn’t Black enough for the Black people and was a token Black kid in the White community. Two worlds were presented to me neither of them was home.

It wasn’t until college that I dipped my toe into the African community around me. I loved the culture, I loved dreaming of what I could have been. But, if we’re being honest. I wasn’t African. I was daydreaming of belonging to another world. But, it wasn’t home.

I did everything I could to find my place. When I was around Black people, I relaxed my dialect, dressed a bit differently, and changed the radio station. When I was with White people I slipped back into the version of me who used “proper English”, and prepped myself up. Exhausted that’s what I was. I was trying to be Black enough, trying to be White enough, and trying to connect to a heritage that should have been mine.

My head was spinning. If I’m honest, it still is. Yes, I have a better sense of who am I. I am blessed enough to know where my ancestors came from. I don’t feel like a misfit with my own people anymore. And I feel comfortable enough being myself around others who don’t look like me. I have evolved. I have taken the broken parts and made them whole. Content is what I am now.

But, I still struggle to figure out where I belong. Let’s face it America doesn’t want me and Africa doesn’t quite suit me. I belong nowhere and everywhere all at once. The impact of slavery has surpassed my ancestors and rests in me. I am a bit of this and little of that. But, I have no real home. The evolution of me, the evolution of my blackness, has led me to one conclusion.

I will never fully belong to one world or the other. That right was stripped from me before I was ever born. But, I also hold a power that allows me to navigate more worlds than one. My blackness can continue to evolve as long as I allow it. Remaining undefined by one world or another allows me to define what Black is to me and where I want to belong.

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This post was previously published on medium.com.

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