American Identity: Covering Our African Roots

Yesterday I had the privilege of hosting a friend from Uganda. This was my friend’s first time in America and I wanted to be sensitive to her needs as a hostess. I found myself struggling with a number of questions of how to introduce her to my people, my land and our way of life.

Given that I only had time for a day trip to show my friend around, I was limited to showing her around Durham. The historian in me craved taking her to see historic sites/museums. As I thought about what was around Durham, I thought about Stagville Plantation, the Duke Homestead, the Bennett Place (the location of a Civil War surrender), and a collection of places such as the Hayti Heritage Center, Black Wall Street and NCCU to show off Durham’s connections to the Civil Rights Movement. I was struck by the impression that these places might have on my Ugandan friend, especially as she lives under the uninmaginable personal history and experience of living with the Lord’s Resistance Army in Uganda.

How could I take a woman who has been a slave to see the heritage of her people as slaves at Stagville? How could I take her to the Homestead where most of the workers involved the history of Jim Crow and the legacy of slavery and tenant farming? (We did eventually chose this option though it focused more on the experience of whites). How could I take her to a place that describes an internal war of brother against brother, villager against villager when she has experienced war within her own country in a similar fashion? How could I take her to a place that might glamorize war and may even include re-enactments that would bring horrific images and experiences of real time warfare for my friend? Why do we as Americans like going to visit war sites? Who else in the world does this? This seems so bizarre!! How could I explain to my friend the history of the Civil Rights Movement outside of the history of slavery?

When faced with this dilemma, I called my Mom for help. “Take her shopping! She hasn’t really seen America unless she’s been to a mall!” I thought maybe I should complete her experience with a cup of coffee from Starbucks. I found that many of the ideas that I came up with outside of the real history of America that discounted the reality of slavery and replaced it with some form of consumerism.

As we passed around neighborhoods and I tried to explain homelessness, gentrification and the inequality of neighborhoods I was able to see much more in how we assimilate to cover our history with Africa. My friend and I found much to connect with over our discussion of farming the land while at the Duke homestead. She made a number of observations about American life in that time that surprised her: We had deep ties to the land, we made much of our living from farming, our homes, family life and our education was built around the land. It made me think about “becoming American” meant throwing off our ties to the land. Unlike my Grandfather, I grew up without a plow, yet I remember the labors the happened at his home over farming. Our family still gathers and eats a shared meal over the foods that came out of that garden. Why does becoming modern mean moving away from this older lifestyle that was very American.

It hit me that we have covered our ties to slavery and ultimately our ties to Africa with consumerism. We don’t want to remember our past, so we try to remove ourselves from farming and plantation life: even if we are white!! No one wants to be tied to the farm anymore, somehow being connected to the farm has been translated as ignorance.

I found that I cannot not explain my life as an American apart from slavery. My family profited from a system that affirmed and rewarded their skin color. My families Southern food, even down to the way we cook our cornbread is the way that black houseworkers made it for us. I have no way out. I must acknowledge my less than noble ties to Africa and also recognize and say no to the consumerist notions of identity that ultimately strips me of my true and real identity.