'All of us look alike to white people', Americanah by Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie

'I think we need to become more comfortable with being uncomfortable', says Adichie

An extract from the novel Americanah, which offers a pointed analysis of race and being Black in America:

'At the checkout, the blonde cashier asked- 'Did anybody help you?'
Yes, Ginika said
Chelcy or Jennifer?
'I'm sorry. I don't remember her name'-
'Was it the one with long hair?', the cashier asked
'Well, both of them had long hair'
'the one with dark hair?'
Both of them had dark hair.
... Ifemelu said, 'I was waiting for her to ask, 'Was it the one with two eyes or the one with two legs?'
'Why didn't she just ask - was it the Black girl or the White girl?'
...'Because this is America. You're supposed to pretend that you don't notice certain things' (Extract from pg. 126-7, Americanah by Chimamanda N. Adichie)


We are caught up and preoccupied and tied up with words. Words hurt or twist or veil reality, descriptions define and encase, reinforce or subvert; words bring people closer or create a chasm between them. This is the danger of being politically correct - our mentalities do not change, prejudices aren't adequately addressed, discriminations are swept under the carpet and we try to hide the obvious because we don't want to or are not ready or cannot face lived and living history.

'Identity is something one always negotiates, but it's also often something external', notes Adichie.
'To read literature is to become alive in a body that is not your own', she adds in her chat with The Economist's Sacha Nauta.
'In talking about diversity, we have to make room for discomfort', she underlines in the same chat.


Americanah caught my attention for several reasons:

Its refreshing insight into slices of Nigeria, USA and to a lesser degree, England; the young, educated mobile characters trying to pave a path for themselves in the midst of uncertainty, capitalist wrecklessness and oscillating fortunes

The desolating hypocrisies of race in the US and all the nuances of being Black there; the identity crisis of non-American Blacks and how they fare in their adopted society.

The humorous yet revealing layers of changing accents and situating oneself - the fluid, flowing, fragile identities and the awakening of a grounded, confident self after much self contemplation

The trials of an immigrant, both legal and undocumented; the slow dehumanising process, the steady ascent, the travails of everyday life, the small pleasures and the lucky/unlucky outcomes.

All the different female profiles it provides - of women both defeated and triumphant, subservient and empowered, fighting to stay human, to stay beautiful, to become independent.

                                                                    ***

And in the spirit of this blog, which focuses so much on (the lack of) positive figures for non-White children in (mostly) German picture books, it is worth quoting Adichie's non-fiction book, Dear Ijeawele, or a Feminist Manifesto in Fifteen Suggestions. It's a response to how you can make your daughter a feminist, asked by one of her friends. Some of her answers extend beyond creating a 'feminist' child. They are 'suggestions' for creating a whole individual, confident in her skin, unafraid to stand out because she may have a different opinion, taste and yes, skin colour - 

Be a full person; motherhood should not define you as a person, as important and precious as it is; Rejecting likability, your job is not to make yourself liked but to be your FULL SELF, 'a self that is honest and aware of the equal humanity of other people'; 

Teaching difference and making it ordinary and normal, teaching without attaching value to difference.

These 'suggestions' are not only for our kids of course. If we keep them in mind, the glasses we wear and through which we see the world, will suddenly make us see, not only ourselves, but others with a different clarity and light.