More than Black…

Years ago if I asked “black” people in the Netherlands how they describe themselves, only a few would mention they are black in a conversation ( I can’t even count it on one hand).  I am following several black and African groups on Facebook. Since the murder of George Floyd it seems that almost every black person in the Netherlands is referring himself or herself as a “black” man or woman only. Even the ‘I Am Black Challenge’ that circulated on my feed, my friends list from the Caribbean and Africa joined.  Is that the way to be in full support and part of the Black Lives Matters movement? Or is it a trendy thing now to highlight your color first? Interesting how the media, talk shows and institutions picked up color distinction so well.

Anyway, I questioned myself why I still struggle to refer to myself as black. I think it started when I was a little innocent child.

As a 6 -year-old girl born in the Netherlands by Nigerian parents, we were one of the few Nigerians that were living in the Netherlands then. The large black populations born, raised or lived in the Netherlands were and still are predominantly from the Caribbean (Suriname and the Dutch Antilles). Africa was a ‘weird phenomena’ for most people from the Netherlands. Especially, people from the Caribbean had a hard time to digest it, but that is another story for another time. 

I am talking about the late eighties, beginning nineties. I remember when I visited a girlfriend’s home; her grandmother asked me where I was from in Suriname. I told her I was from Nigeria. She never heard of Nigeria.  She took a world map and pointed with a smile saying, “Oh you mean Nicaragua, it’s in Central America.” I confusingly accepted. I remember telling my mom. She laughed, heavily, shaking her head and said, “Tell her both of your parents are from Nigeria in Africa.” When I met the Suriname grandmother again I quoted my mother’s words. Her facial expression was not as lively as when she thought I was from Nicaragua. From that day I knew she was not going to give me “that smile” again, like the one she gave that cute little girl from Nicaragua.

Two years later, a Dutch white classmate’s mother called me black.  Her words were, “Vergeet ‘zwartje’ geen limonade te geven” (“Don’t forget to give ‘blacky’ her lemonade”) when I was playing with her daughter in their house. I wasn’t sure if she was talking about me until the glass of lemonade came my way. It could be that my name was too difficult to pronounce, which was often the case.

That same year I was spending my summer holiday in the motherland.  I remember feeling miserable going. Seeing all the devastating predicaments of Africa on the television – those commercials and documentaries of little naked skinny kids with big bellies eating the flies surrounding them, and crying out of hunger- standing outside of huts almost daily on TV. Even my Caribbean friends made sure to remind me what I was going to face (they saw it too).  At that age I didn’t want to be part of that world.

Surprisingly my experience turned to be a great one: Nigeria was a place I felt welcomed and part of a big family, even though some people called me  ‘Aje Butter Pikin’ (A child who was born with a silver spoon or who is spoilt and has not experienced the harshness of life) but never black. When I returned to the Netherlands I boasted about my holiday to my Caribbean friends. They were impressed, especially about that picture of me sitting on a horse at the beach.  You should have seen those faces, priceless.

Growing up categorizing myself or anyone else that looks like me was quite an interesting journey. How do I call myself? It was African initially then Nigerian or the other way around. But not black. Naming others black was also not in my dictionary. I would say: she/he is Surinamese, Antillean, Somali, Ghanaian, Moroccan and so forth.  I think the negative connotations with black had a great impact on me.  Like black mail, black sheep, black list, black schools, black (face) Pete (Zwarte Piet), negro ( neger) and so forth. Although African Americans turned ‘black’ into powerful statements and associations: “I am Black and I’m Proud”,  “Black is Beautiful”, “Black Power” and “Black Lives Matters”. But the color black was given by Europeans and white Americans to continue the downgrading of African Americans and people from the African Diaspora. It was like an upgrade from the word Negro(e), check this interesting post. Americans sticking to the ‘Black’ label might be from not knowing their roots in Africa, because of slavery. I can understand that it’s hard identifying with a continent or country when you have not been there before or know nothing about, other than what the media shows. It could also be that “black” turned into powerful connotations, detaching from it might be like erasing a part of the history.  Its interesting that Asian-, Arab- and Native Americans with their own history hardly refer to the color brown or yellow. Why are African Americans persistent in using black as a label and people of the Netherlands are following that blindly too?

I understand that the Black Lives Matter movement for people of the Caribbean and Africans in the Netherlands is an identification. Maybe black labeling oneself is another way of showing solidarity. Whatever the reasons are, there is power in representing your heritage proudly and boldly. One of my favorite songs by Peter Tosh, “Don’t care where you come from. As long as you’re a black man, you’re an African.” Underlines what I am about to say, we are more than a color. I won’t be drawn into the ‘trend’ of the majority of calling oneself and others (solely) ‘black’. It would be like swapping my identity, rich history and heritage for a color. I will continue to refer to myself as African and Nigerian from Amsterdam. If others want to be called black I will respect that since I never felt the urge to describe myself like that, even when others were. It doesn’t mean I don’t support the movement, I do. It means I believe that a strong unity among Africans and people of the Diaspora worldwide is the key to self-love and growth. Using the color black (especially translated as ‘zwarte’) will not bring that into fulfillment.

Images from:

I am a black man challenge – unknown writer

Unsplash by Wadi Lissa

Unsplash by Dideoluwa Ololade

Do you have any problems being referred to as black? Share your thoughts in the comment section in English or Dutch.

NOTE: last edited date only the layout and typos/grammar, not the content of the post!