(a gentle nudge)*

But of course I would have come!

I even think I could have come if…

Well the point is that I tried, right?

No, really! I did.

Because I thought about trying and while I thought about it

I imagined how pleased you would have been, and

That made me feel incredibly warm inside.

Special and important too. For just a few minutes:

I stood right there - my feet immovable -

I stood right there - my one hand held yours
I stood right there - my other hand, a fist in the sky
I stood right there - my head bowed down 
in celebration and commemoration

- and I would have stood right there, of course!

I would have held your hand, no doubt!

I would have if

I would have come.

But you know that already, right?

/…/

You would know that, you say?

Ah, I suppose you would be right if I was

the kind of person who never came

but I would have come. So that’s different.

It really is.

*(dedicated to those who will at some point in the future say, they were going to visit their local sites of non-citizen resistance but sadly didn't make it before the protests ended - victoriously or otherwise)

A Letter to the Village

Published in The African Courier (August/September 2013 issue, printed version) 

Dear Elders,

You may already know that I am legally required to send my sons to school because we live in Germany and home education is not permitted here. In this country, all children are taught a curriculum designed with only white children in mind. A quick flick through most standard school atlases will reveal stereotypical images of “Africans,” many science books still teach that “Menschenrassen” or biological human races do exist. Those rare examples of German texts which do portray Black people will use degrading imagery and vocabulary to describe them - as if the sheer absence of images of healthy, happy Black children, women and men was not insult enough.

In a lesson about evolution, one of my sons had to endure being teased by his classmates: the prehistoric woman looked “just like his mum!” Another of my children informed me that his teacher had used the word “Negerkuss” several days in a row. She took away his mobile phone, accusing him of calling me during the school day to inform me, when I wrote her an email about it. One of children’s friends was called “nigger” by his teaching assistant. The man first denied it, but eventually – only after many children came forward as witnesses – apologised for the “misunderstanding.”

But Some of Us Are Brave: The Legacy of Black Female Activists in Germany

Deutsche Übersetzung (gekürzt) erschien in Missy Magazine (Printausgabe, Mai 2013) und wurde auf der Webseite der Initiative Schwarze Menschen in Deutschland veröffentlicht.

Change is coming to Germany.

This time last year, the Berlin-based Deutsches Theater had just decided to stop using Blackface in the Thalheimer production of Dea Loher’s Unschuld. This historic event followed weeks of campaigning by outraged critics, concerned theatre-goers as well as other Black, of color and white activist members of the then newly-formed anti-racist initiative Bühnenwatch. Now, just one year later, a similarly heated debate has broken out over the use of racist vocabulary in children’s literature. Emotions are running high and the terrain feels strangely familiar: angry blog posts, heated public debates, furious Facebook discussions and incensed Tweets. White media commentators speak of “censorship” and “political correctness” but in reality the battle is about power: who should have the final say about the representation of Black people and people of color in German culture? Until now, white Germans have claimed this right for themselves. Yet slowly but surely, this privilege is slipping through their fingers. For many this just doesn’t feel good.

“Without a vision, every social change feels like death”

Their concern is well rehearsed. Childhood books are to be treasured, not revised! Cultural traditions are to be preserved, not criticised! And the word “racism” should only be reserved to describe the most heinous of crimes – those involving Nazis or right-wing extremists! And yet, for increasing numbers of Black Germans and Germans of color, these “truths” are inadequate. The everyday lived experience of those of us who are often not recognised at first sight to be German is typically marked by exoticism, contempt or fear – and sometimes all three. The idea that one can tell who is not German simply by assessing the skin colour is ridiculous but pervasive. It allows some people to question others about where they come from, or to congratulate them on their accent-free language skills or to demand to see their identity papers. Audre Lorde, an African-American lesbian, feminist, poet, activist, scholar and mother who was instrumental in igniting the recent Black German political movement in the 1980s, identified the need for Black people in general and Black women in particular to support each other. It is Lorde who wrote: “without a vision, every social change feels like death.”[1] In order to create a vision of the future in Germany, it is necessary for us to revisit the past.