by Geraldine Amakihe, Contributing Writer
Sudanese model Alex Wek
Ethiopian Liya Kebede
I didn’t know I was African until I left Africa.
A loaded statement coming from a Nigerian; an Igbo girl. Nonetheless, it is exactly the way I used to feel, before my family relocated back to the States from Nigeria. Before I left the confines of my father country, declaring me an African person was redundant- a statement of the obvious – so I never had to consciously think about it. In Nigeria, particularly in my Igbo culture, my father’s name and my education were the two most important cultural indicators.
When I moved back to the US I quickly realized that I was now “African” and was constantly expected to represent a billion people. And that being anything other than “that African girl” was considered an upgrade.
Countless numbers of people thought they were complimenting me with reassurances that I didn’t “look African”. Some would wonder about my last name, and upon discovering that I was Nigerian, would give a range of responses;
“Oh wow! You’re African??”
“I thought you were just ‘regular’ black”.
“Oh! So, THAT explains your features!”
I remember an instance when a teacher told me that he just knew I was African because of my “big features”. I also remember cringing inwardly as he emphatically stressed that my African look basically boiled down to my full lips. That day, as I sat in his classroom, I fiercely wished that I could be the complete opposite of what he thought was the African look. I wanted to be thinner lipped and lighter skinned, solely to force him to recognize that his so-called African look, as dominating as the idea was, was a fallacy.
Whenever the African phenotype is mentioned, the stock image is usually the stereotypically flat description of dark skin, full lips and backsides, wide noses, and highly textured hair. To delve into the misconception even further, let’s lay out all the cards and attach “poor”, “dirty”, “backwards” and “starving” to the description. People seem to find it difficult to reconcile the notion that there are just as many people who might look this way, as there are people throughout the continent who don’t, but still identify as African, and that these people fall into all levels of social status. It’s irritating when we allow ourselves to mindlessly gorge on misinformation dispensed by myths and media, and continue to dismiss people for not fitting a narrow margin of the supposed African look.
Shouldn’t it go without mention that different people identify as African, and the current categories should be expanded? However, common sense ideas often seem to be the hardest to understand or implement. For instance, with a country like Nigeria, which is an arbitrary amalgamation of hundreds of ethnicities from Fulani to Igbo, facial features and body types vary incredibly. If we step outside of Nigeria, Alex Wek and Liya Kebede are both from East Africa.
They look amazingly different, and yet, by looking at them, people would assume only Alek as the “pure African”. None of these regions are homogenous, and prevailing features run the gamut from the deepest to the fairest of complexions.
Let’s continue to extrapolate that example and apply it to Africans in the diaspora; Colombians to Canadians, Americans to Argentinians and the catch-all African phenotype begins to dissolve. The African look is a multi-dimensional one, and we shouldn’t rely entirely on the media to provide accurate information. We should constantly challenge ourselves to think outside the proverbial box and to question ourselves, because in doing so, we can expand our familiarities, and in turn, challenge the status quo. It is also our responsible, as black people, to stop associating certain African features with poverty and backwardness.
We need to totally rethink Africa and, by extension, our perception of African beauty.
I am African. My mother is from South Africa (the country not the region)and my father is from Ghana. I suppose I have had the exact opposite reaction of most here that have posted. I have always been told that I don’t look African and I take it as an insult. This is upsetting to me because I have always been the odd ball in my group of African friends always having to prove that I am African to outsiders who think I am trying to be African by hanging with Africans. Weird! I associate “looking African” with looking exotic. I have never associated it with “particular features”.
if you think its negative then its negative. but if you know being african doesnt really have that much to do with your features, then why gie it the time of day. most people dont mean any harm when making such remarks
The fact that we are even having this conversation is disappointing. It makes you realize that no matter how good you are as a person, you are only judged by aesthetics. People around the world are being programmed…They are being fed images of what our ‘Black” culture is really about. How can this be an insult when people of Africa are the most resilient, strong, diverse, beautiful, and driven people on the planet. As an African American woman, I feel a bit cheated because I know I am a ‘hybrid’ African. I wish I could claim Africa to be my homeland and feel connected to the people REALLY! We need to wake up. We should be saying these things to those that have trespassed against us and used our ancestry as a ‘dirty word’. The worst of it all is we do it to one another. I have been told by all different people that I look like or favor one group or another but the truth is, we all have one common ancestry and that is Africa so we all need to embrace it. Its where the oldest human was found. People are always looking to categorize one another…its part of human nature. We all need to realize that we are one race…
THE HUMAN RACE!!! Now digest that, LOL
I appreciate this article.
It reminds me of the ignorance of a phrase I truly hate to hear or read: “she looks like a white girl dipped in chocolate.”
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I love being African American! Wouldnt change it for anything in this world. My mother is from Nigeria, the way we can tell if someone else is nigerian is by facial characteristic, high cheek bones is a big one. If i’m in a cab and the guy ask are you Nigerian? it’s a great feeling to know that I’m distinguished amongst everyone else and at that moment i have a bond with my brother and we carry on conversations about food and family. Wether we are from the same country or not I believe we have a bond with our race that most other races don’t.Being African is a beautiful thing!
As the author indicated, there is no universal “Nigerian look”, so high cheekbones are not the dead giveaway you believe them to be. I’m Nigerian as well, with one Igbo parent parent and one Yoruba parent, and I pretty much look like everybody; I’ve been told I look Fulani, Igbo, South African, African American, and others I no longer remember. I always try to explain to those who need the education that Africa today is pretty much like black America today–in some places, there’s been some blending.
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i always get that i don’t look african by non-blacks and blacks alike and honestly it disappoints me, its a sick stereotype that is carried that all africans have a “LOOK”, when africa is a continent with over 20 countries each one with people and tribes with different facial features and colours.
I’m Cajun but a lot of my black and African friends think I’m ethiopian or of ethiopian decent. It upsets me when non-black/African people say I don’t look african. I love that I am ethiopian decent and I say I am Cajun because I’m not one thing, I’m acknowledging all my heritage. And when I hang out with people who are from Africa there is kind of a bond, and we can relate. It’s hard and frustrating because my family isn’t very american, and we aren’t very african we’re caught in the middle. However it does make things a little easier having some cultural identity.
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