M Simone Boyd
A few years ago, I had almost given up hope on black marriages and the idea of a black family. I witnessed two of my cousins go through tragic divorces.
And the only happy couples I knew were my parents and my best friend’s parents. But, they were both in their late fifties.
Two things happened that changed my perspective.
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“Are you Nigerian?” That’s what my friend, KB, said to me when we first met a few years ago. KB is Ghanaian-American and the child of immigrants. She thought I was Nigerian, because of my large family.
I don’t remember what I said to her, but I remember thinking.
“No! I’m from Nashville, but my family is from Texas.”
Before that day, I had never considered where my ancestors hailed from. But, I knew that I did not want them to be from Africa. Growing up, I can remember thinking how awful it would be to be from Africa. I blame Feed the Children for this notion.
Don’t get me wrong, Feed the Children does amazing work. But, their marketing campaigns impacted me in a negative way. To this day, I can picture images of malnutritioned African children and their almost naked bodies. Seeing those children shaped my negative notion of Africa, and I can remember thinking thank goodness…I’m from Nashville!
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| Image from solarpumpsafrica.com |
But, then a few years ago I celebrated New Year’s Eve with KB at her church. I walked into the sanctuary. And, I remember being surrounded by the flags from all the African countries displayed around the sanctuary. The congregants are primarily West African families, and attending that service was a life-changing experience.
In one night, my views on Africa and my thoughts on black families changed literally overnight.
Prior to that night, I thought of Africa as one distinct homogeneous place, and not a continent of 55 countries*, thousands of languages, and a number of cultural nuances. Take Togo, for instance. Another friend was on her way to Mozambique, and lost her luggage in Togo. Locals kept telling her not to worry, because the Togolese are known for their honesty and her bag would be returned. Sure enough, a few days later her luggage was returned.
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| Martin and Coretta Image from blackmarriedtricities.org |
Prior to that night, I also wasn’t sure if black marriages worked anymore. The only black married couples that I knew where my parents, and my best friend’s parents. But, both those couples were close to their sixties, and I was in complete despair.
But, that night after the service my friend invited me to have New Year’s breakfast with her and some friends. And, I found myself surrounded by 4 or 5 young married couples that looked like me. All the couples were in their twenties and shared this bond that I couldn’t quite put my finger on.
They were talking about courting traditions, and marrying traditions, and traditions for new babies in the community. And, they all had this common thread. There was no drama, and everyone was just sitting there talking and laughing.
And, I soaked up every minute. Because I had NEVER been in this environment before.
I was surrounded by young and married black families, and I loved every minute of it.
It took me a while to digest everything, but I’ve been talking to my friend about Ghanaian culture and tradition on and off ever since. And, the more I learn…the more I love Ghanaians. Did you know there are very few single-parent homes in the Ghanaian community?
Yes, it’s true. It almost never happens, because if something happens to the husband. Then the brother or the closest male relative cares for that family as if it were his own.
And, very few children are born out of wedlock. Because, when a man expresses interest in a woman. He expresses interest in joining that family. The process is called the knocking, and it is a ceremonious occasion that involves an entire family. There is no going off alone to neck and play footsie, because the young man expresses his interest in the family first and lets the family know that he is a man of integrity. Then, he is given permission to pursue a relationship with the daughter.
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| Simone, Me, and KB |
Here in D.C., I have the gift of coming in contact with many more people and families that recently immigrated to the United States and people that have studied and visited Africa. My friend, Simone, lives in Benin and trains teachers. You can read more about her work here.
I plan to visit Simone and Benin next year, and I can’t wait to see the beauty that is not often publicized in Africa. I’ll share pics when I return.
Another one of my friends visited Kenya and Zambia. She came back with great stories of going on safari, a gourmet breakfast in the wild, and seeing Blair Underwood and his family. Aren’t her photographs are breathtaking?
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| Victoria Falls in Zambia |
I’m proud to be an American, but I long to know so much more about my African heritage and where I come from. One of the things that I love about Morris is that his mother’s side of the family can trace back 7 generations to the village that they lived in Nicaragua. What a gift to know where you come from?
I think that’s one of the many missing links for our families today. There is no pride or heritage or traditions in sharing where we come from. Where do we come from?!?
One of my goals in 2014 will include tracing my blood line to a specific country and visiting Africa. I’m not sure if I am Kenyan, Ghanaian or Nigerian, but if I am…I am proud of it.
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*According to Africacheck.org, the number ranges from 54-56 countries depending on whether or not you include Morocco and Somaliland.