When I was younger I remember my Grandma, Isabella Ononiwu, reciting over and over again to me the state, city and village that we come from. “Imo state, Owerri, Amatta village”.
I would often forget most of it, as any 12 year-old would, and she would repeat it again, and again and again.
“This is where you’re from,” she would say, her voice, insistent and thick with love. But beneath that, I think what she was trying to tell me was, “This is who you are. Don’t forget that.”
Growing up in Canada, it was a cool fact to know, but didn’t seem quite relevant or as important as the other things on my mind, such as graduating, getting good grades, making friends and figuring out what I wanted to do when I got older. But now in my mid-twenties as my husband and I think through how we want to raise our future children and the heritage we want to impart, I’ve suddenly found myself wrestling a lot with who I am, and what that means.
After all, children represent one’s legacy and an opportunity to shape and influence the future. And what impact can one have on the future if they don’t truly understand their past?
And I’m sure I’m not alone in this quest.
The future of the ‘Western’ African
As someone who immigrated from Nigeria to Canada with my parents when I was 3-years-old, the topic of people leaving Nigeria to come to the West is one that sits close to my heart and is rife with a plethora of complicated feelings that for most of my life I’ve avoided talking about.
Part of that involved the aspect of never feeling truly ‘Nigerian enough’, around other Nigerians - something that I’m sure many other immigrant kids may understand. But as I mentioned above, this season of my life has allowed me the opportunity to realize a few things: First, that my heritage is my birthright and I don’t need outside approval to embrace it more fully. And secondly, I have permission for my identity to be more expansive than I’ve previously thought possible.
For the many young African immigrants raised in the West, the question shouldn't be how to mold our 'Africanness' to fit a rigid, time-locked image of the Africa we left behind—or, for some, never truly experienced. Instead, with curiosity and creativity, we should be asking how to redefine 'Africanness' for our future and the generations to come.
This quest will become increasingly more important for us as Africans given the stats and trends on immigration. In 2022 and 2023 alone, it’s reported that over 3.6 million Nigerians have migrated to other countries in search of greener pastures (1). If those 3.6 million plus Nigerians settle in countries like Canada, the UK and the USA as millions of other Nigerians have over the past few decades, the future of Nigeria’s next generation may be very similar to my experience and to that of my siblings, cousins and family friends. Of course this isn’t restricted to just Nigeria. My Ghanaian, Ethiopian, Congolese, Zimbabwean and other African brothers and sisters are facing similar futures.
In thinking about who the ‘New African’ is, my effort is to lead us into action and not passivity.
Acknowledging and Addressing the Impact of Colonialism
Passivity in our quest for identity will ultimately lead to the white colonialists' plan from the start; for the African to look, talk, and think like the white man. And unfortunately, their plan has succeeded for many of us.
Despite my eagerness, my parents struggled to teach me my traditional language. A big part of the difficulty stemmed from the fact that they’re from two different tribes; Igbo and Yoruba, and therefore can’t even speak in their own language to each other. But in talking to many other Nigerians that come from singular tribe households, oftentimes the language still isn’t passed on because many parents didn’t see the value in teaching it to their children.
After all, if success is defined by the parameters of Western education and work, then ensuring that your children can speak the ‘Queen’s English’ fluently, is of paramount importance, and tragically, ensuring that your children can speak the language of their ancestors becomes nothing more than an inconvenient afterthought. As I shared above, in doing this, many Africans have lost sight of what my Grandma knew instinctively; that for a child to successfully carve out a path for their future, it first requires them to know who they are and where they come from.
And so, finally, what does all this mean for you and for me as ‘New Africans?’ How do we shape our lives in a way that honours our past while being proactive about the future?
Taking Action
To start, it’s important to understand that this journey will and should look different for each and every person. In what ways do you feel yourself being called towards better understanding and embracing your African heritage? What practices or changes are doable for you and your family at this stage or season of your live(s)? What may work for me, will not necessarily work for you and that’s okay. I believe that this should be a journey of exploration, and not a burden.
For me, this has taken on a variety of different avenues. First off, I’ve taken on the opportunity of learning how to speak Igbo first for my own pleasure, and also in the hopes of teaching my children whatever I can of what I’ve learned.
My husband and I have also been thinking through and researching what it may look like to homeschool our children within a PanAfrican framework. As Dr. Wanijiru Kamau says, there’s a big difference between being schooled and being educated. Schooling may teach you what to know, but education should teach you who you are and what to do with what you know. I believe that educating Black children to be proudly African is a powerful thing.
Additionally, I believe that part of the ‘New African’s’ challenge is to widen our scope of who we see as our brother and sister. Do we see the Kenyan, Congolese, Zambian, Jamaican, Antiguan, Black South African and Black American as our brother and sister? People with whom it’s crucial for us to build with for our joint success in the West and globally? Following from having a more Pan African approach also includes our men marrying and building families with other Black women. Black men in the USA are twice as likely to marry outside of their race than Black women (2), and while this is not to fault interracial marriages, the foundation of a strong Black community starts with healthy black families, and we need our men to take the lead in that area.
Lastly, something that has been quite challenging for me has been actively seeking out books and media from an African perspective. So much of what we consume on a daily basis is in a white, Western framework, and not only does that deprive us from a more holistic way of thinking, but it also leads us into what Dr. Kunjufu describes as people with Black skin but lacking Black consciousness.
What are your thoughts on what it means to be an African that’s actively engaging in the process of dismantling and disempowering the effects of Western colonialism in your own life? Do you have any suggestions based on how you’ve gone about this process? Please share below!
As it's only fitting for me to sign off with my Igbo name…
In solidarity,
Chibuzoma.
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