SIKANKU: In the US, “African” stigma runs deep as some prefer to be called Black American instead of African American.

"Look at me. I’ll accept it if you say I’m black. But I’m definitely not African."

Once in a while, amidst the tumult that is graduate school, an interesting conversation comes up. My African American friend, Abrianna and I recently had a conversation about her “ethnicity”.

This topic came up because I had inadvertently referred to her in a different conversation as an African American. Now you wouldn’t imagine this would offend anyone.

But before I could finish my sentence, she shot back: “I’m not African-American”. I was shocked. At first, I was tempted to dismiss it as one of her many backhand jokes intended to derail the merits of some argument (or the other) I was putting up. But the angst in her voice was clear.

“Oh, if you’re not African-American, then what are you”?
“Black-American” she, answered. I couldn’t believe my ears. For me, out of all the things that could offend a black person in America, this was not one of them.
“What’s the difference, I asked.”
“Well, I don’t come from Africa so I don’t see why African should be associated with my identity as American”.

Wow.

If her first admission caught me off guard this completely knocked me out. I didn’t know whether to be surprised or disappointed. It would have been easier if this was one of those academic arguments people make just for the sake of arguing. But no, Abrianna Chapman was dead serious. So I just laughed gently.

Well, I think my laughter incensed her all the more.

“How you going to say I’m African when I have never been to Africa and don’t know what it’s like”. Look at me. I’ll accept it if you say I’m black. But I’m definitely not African.”

Boy, where do I start from. I wanted to explain to her that although she has no idea what Timbuktu, Cape Coast or Abeokuta looks like, historically we share a common ancestry. But Adrianna is a college senior. Surely, she must know all about the trans-Atlantic slave trade or at least watched a movie or two about it.

To be sure, I asked. “So where are you from?"
“I’m from Mississippi” she said matter-of-factly. This was it. I couldn’t contain myself anymore. I was besides myself with laughter

“That would make you a Native-American” my other African friend Paa Kwesi Annan quipped.

Seriously though, I believe this is a topic that merits some serious thought. I will never forget this conversation I had with Abrianna. It belies the commonly assumed notion among Africans that every black person in the US is a brother.

Has our reputation as Africans fallen so low that our very own are now shunning their roots? Is it right for African Americans to dissociate themselves from the continent or is there enough fodder for closer collaborations between Africans and the black Diaspora?

Are we really overstretching it when we assume that blacks in the US have any sort of connection to Africa? Or drawing closer home, was Abrianna’s indefatigable defense of her ‘blackness’ as opposed to her ‘African-Americaness” justified?