Posted on 06/24/2008 11:43:35 AM PDT by forkinsocket
I was annoyed the first time an African American man called me "sister." It was in a Brooklyn store, and I had recently arrived from Nigeria, a country where, thanks to the mosquitoes that kept British colonizers from settling, my skin color did not determine my identity, did not limit my dreams or my confidence. And so, although I grew up reading books about the baffling places where black people were treated badly for being black, race remained an exotic abstraction: It was Kunta Kinte.
Until that day in Brooklyn. To be called "sister" was to be black, and blackness was the very bottom of America's pecking order. I did not want to be black.
In college I babysat for a Jewish family, and once I went to pick up first-grader Stephen from his play date's home. The lovely house had an American flag hanging from a colonnade. The mother of Stephen's play date greeted me warmly. Stephen hugged me and went to look for his shoes. His play date ran down the stairs and stopped halfway. "She's black," he said to his mother and stared silently at me before going back upstairs. I laughed stupidly, perhaps to deflate the tension, but I was angry.
I was angry that this child did not merely think that black was different but had been taught that black was not a good thing. I was angry that his behavior left Stephen bewildered, and for a long time I half-expected something similar to happen in other homes that displayed American flags.
"That kid's mother is so ignorant," one friend said. "Ignorant" suggested that an affluent, educated American living in a Philadelphia suburb in 1999 did not realize that black people are human beings.
(Excerpt) Read more at washingtonpost.com ...
Chip on her shoulder the size of Nigeria. She learned American ways real fast.
I had recently arrived from Nigeria, a country where, thanks to the mosquitoes that kept British colonizers from settling, my skin color did not determine my identity, did not limit my dreams or my confidence.
The questions beg to be asked -— If Nigeria did not have racism or bigotry, and skin color did not determine your identity or limit your dreams or confidence, why is the heck did you come to America? And why would you stay in America if you discovered that America has these problems that you find so hard to live with?
What job is she looking for in an Obama administration, artfully linking perceived racism with patriotism?
stories like this are tedious
“the mosquitoes that kept British colonizers from settling”
Are Nigerian mosquitos racist?
The mother of Stephen’s play date greeted me warmly. Stephen hugged me and went to look for his shoes. His play date ran down the stairs and stopped halfway. “She’s black,” he said to his mother and stared silently at me before going back upstairs. I laughed stupidly, perhaps to deflate the tension, but I was angry.
I was angry that this child did not merely think that black was different but had been taught that black was not a good thing. I was angry that his behavior left Stephen bewildered, and for a long time I half-expected something similar to happen in other homes that displayed American flags.
“That kid’s mother is so ignorant,” one friend said. “Ignorant” suggested that an affluent, educated American living in a Philadelphia suburb in 1999 did not realize that black people are human beings.
First graders are little kids. They say thoughtless things. How does she make the quantum leap in reasoning to think that he was taught that black was bad? The mother greeted her warmly. Why is the mother of the kid who said a thoughtless thing said to be ignorant? How does she make the quantum leap in reasoning to think that those people didn’t think black people are human beings? This whole article makes little sense.
She makes the assumption that the statement “she's black” is anything other than ordinary childlike curiosity. I remember my own kids curiosity about different skin colors. I also remember helping to do physicals at an Indian reservation at an elementary school where all of the students were American Indian. We were in the Gym. I walked to the bleachers and sat down for a minute. Immediately I felt little fingers in my hair. I turned around to see several delightful Indian girls who were close enough to touch blond hair for the first time. We looked into each others eyes and they burst out laughing, and so did I. It didn't need explanation. Kids are curious, and how the adult handles it is a way to help frame future opinions.
Sheesh. I couldn’t read the whole thing.... halfway through it my eyes started feeling like they were being stabbed with toothpicks.
This article is a whiney piece of trash..... best put on print and used as bird cage lining.
I’m not going to deny that there are problems with race relations. But, this author has seen life in Nigeria and life in America. If she doesn’t like it here, she can always go back, can’t she? It’s hard to believe that she prefers Nigeria if she won’t go back.
Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie
http://www.l3.ulg.ac.be/adichie/
This post belongs on DU ...
“And why would you stay in America if you discovered that America has these problems that you find so hard to live with?”
Exactly. Why would anyone want to live in such a hateful place. If Nigeria is so great then why are you here?
Gotta love those stereotypes.
I'm sorry, Chimamanda, what was your point?
ignorant: what a Leftist calls somebody who holds opinions the Leftist disagrees with
Everyone is my brother and sister regadless of race....
Obama the great unifier will of course divide America even further.
He may not want to divide us but his big money backers and close radical supporters like George Soros will leave him little choice.
Yes Cunta Kinte or what ever you call yourself , vote Republican for true freedom.
Or else go back to Nigeria where you would probably have a better life and be away from mean old America.
Stop the presses, America's racist!
http://www.l3.ulg.ac.be/adichie/cnabio.html
I'm sure she's paying full freight at Yale. /sarc
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