top of page
  • Dylan Gibbons

Diversity within Blackness


As a child, you never really consider the color of your skin as an important part of your reality. However, I realized that I was black at a very young age mainly because of my parents and the different instructions that they would give me that my other friends who were white would not have to do. I realized that I was different when my friends came to my house and would eat the food my parents cooked and comment on how spicy and rich it was. I realized that I was different when my parents told me not to ever wear my hood over my head and to keep my head shaved.

But what fascinated me was how different I was from my black counterparts that I would associate with. My mom comes from Uganda and my dad is from Guyana. Most of the black individuals that I would associate with when I was younger were Black American or Caribbean. However, my mom had a very strong African culture and my family and I would often visit Uganda and see our relatives. As a result, I became very aware of the difference between African blacks, Caribbean blacks and African-American blacks.

Growing up, I would often get looked down upon for being African. My friends, both black and white, would make fun of me and say that I lived in a hut, ate lions and used spears to hunt down my prey. African-American blacks would often say that I was not really black and Caribbean blacks got mad at me for not being “West Indian” enough. As a result, I was very embarrassed of my African side and my mom for speaking in her accent and calling me by my African name.

But as I grew older, I realized that I should be proud of my culture and who I am as an African-West-Indian. I realized that a lot of my friends did not have such a rich cultural background, did not have the wealth of traditions and customs that my family did and did not have a connection to their roots. I realized that my culture was not any worse than another culture but had depth and richness.

Most importantly, I realized that my differences were a reflection of the creativity and diversity within the God who created the human race. Because of this I can proclaim: Yes, I am African. Yes, I am West Indian. And yes, I am proud.

0 views0 comments

Recent Posts

See All

Self-love and burnt chicken nuggets

I’m a summer baby. I would spend hours outside under the sun. I adored going to the beach, capitalizing on every opportunity to dive into the salty waves. Every day, the sun would kiss my skin, and I

My “culture”

I have always found amusement in having people guess my ethnicity. It’s hard to tell exactly what I am when I take such a 50/50 split of both my parents. If I’m with just one of them, it’s hard to tel

How I learned to have a big heart

When I was younger, my family went beyond my home. I spent afternoons at my aunt’s house and weekends at the beach with people who were “auntie, uncle, lolo or lola.” I did not question why I called m

bottom of page