Contemplating Diaspora

I am contemplating the diaspora today. Contemplating my place in it. Considering how though my heritage is Caribbean, I identify as a Black America and what that means to and for me. I am considering how I feel every sting of the words of derision that some first generation, American born Africans and Caribbean/West Indians lob at Black Americans even though I too am "kinda" first gen myself. I'm feeling the pain of how so many first generation black Americans I know try to distance themselves from the consequences and circumstances of Black Americans while simultaneously attaching themselves to the rich history of black contribution in this country. I am contemplating how the Caribbean heritage of many of our Black American (S)heroes gets shrouded in the narratives of their lives so that some black Americans don't even know that the black American giants they quote and praise have Caribbean/West Indian roots.

I am contemplating how the world gets to adopt African American culture without consequence but some black Africans/Caribbeans/West Indians cry "Appropriation" when Black Americans dare to try to connect to a culture that was stolen from them by slavery and colonization. I am thinking about how slavery affected this country and the Caribbean and how one sustained and informed the other but, there are some in both diasporic iterations that ignore the affects of slavery on the Caribbean as we engage these discussions around reparations. I am thinking about how systemic racism built on the legacy of slavery affects us all and somehow that is not enough to push some of us towards common ground

Like I said, I am contemplating diaspora today and my place in it. Whenever I am in this place, I think of this interview of the great Hugh Masekela. Though he is speaking of continental Africans in this piece, it always strikes a deep chord with me. The last line of this interview for me describes the situation of the diaspora and the African born and raised miles and generations from our continent of origin, especially Black Americans. It speaks to this place that we occupy that has somehow deemed us neither American nor African enough. And though it has been quite a few more than 20 years since our forced estrangement, I feel the sentiment still applies: "20 yrs from now when they ask your children who they are they're gonna say: They say we used to be Africans long ago."