I am cut off from my culture, whatever the hell that is. In several e-mails to several people I have spoke about being a minority all of my life, but never like this. I may go days without seeing another Black face. I find myself starving for seclusion sometimes, and then wanting to connect to someone. Both desires are usually fed, but then another desire comes in. This one is two-fold, a desire to commune with my brothers, particularly Black-American males, and also with those of close African descent. I never knew how much of a necessity such encounters were until I came here.
I am becoming lost out here, as I talk to others about their heritage and cultural background. Several students still question whether I am from Africa, and then when I say that I am American hey wonder about my ancestry which I have no clue about. It is quite infuriating, knowing that some European culture can just strip me of my past, and then expect me to be a believer in non-violent protest. Why? My ancestry was not brought here non-violently. Well, things have to change, of course, how convenient the rules change when someone finds freedom. Let us all be honest, American culture is simply White Culture, regardless of all the contributions of other races, ethnicities, and such. I see this concept in many of the students that ask me about my heritage, wondering how being African-American works. I think they see me as simply an immigrant in America. I rather not continue my ranting about culture, because I am honestly not in a good place to discuss it calmly and politely. I search for answers to my own heritage. I feel cultureless sometimes, all I have is my family and our ways, no heritage, no culture. An episode of roots can't give me what has been lost, "I Have a Dream" can't give me what has been lost, even that blood test that can pinpoint my African heritage can't give me what has been stolen, perhaps it is lost forever. And as I sit and write this, there is no compassion in my heart or forgiveness, just anger, and disappointment. Time heals, maybe by the time I return I will have forgotten these heart wrenching moments of cultural confusion. I am a Black-American, Whatever the hell that means.
My desire for Africaness was actually assuaged one night. My good friend Shanita and I went to a peculiar place that made us both feel quite comfortable.
The place was an African Jazz Lounge. After much wandering the streets of Hong Kong up hill and down hill we finally stumbled upon a door with two African statues standing guard.
The place was decked out in colorful garbs and very comfortable seating, when I saw it I thought of two people, Dr. Rushton Johnson and Lisa Glenn. Shanita and I sat with our Vadou Magic drinks for about an hour and a half and then the band got up to play.
I was so happy, the smile on my face was endless. I felt like I was at home. Not to say, that I go to African lounges at home; but still, just being around Black Culture made me feel comfortable.
Here my brothers are doing the damn thing. My friend and I got off our butts as well, but you ain't ready to see such a wonder, sorry no pictures. Being there was extremely refreshing and necessary to my health. Strangely, I even ran into a church member from the Vine, which made me feel even more comfortable in this setting. He offered to buy my a drink, but by that time I had already drunk enough. No, I wasn't drunk, I am more responsible than that.
Moving right along, I went to the Zoological Gardens here in HK. I don't have many good pictures, but here is one. (No Pandas).
I explored another section of the city called Stanley Market. Here are some pics of it.
So, I've been teaching in the Primary school for a couple of weeks and it is not going well. In one of my classes four kids don't listen to me at all, in fact, one only speaks Cantonese to me and gives me this real smug smirk cause he knows I don't understand him. The first session was chaos. The second was alot better. But, the third was a mixture and I lost my temper with these four little boys and yelled at the top of my lungs "Fellas, Sit Down!!!" As they scurried to their seats in fear, I wonder what the hell I am going to do with these kids. I can't teach them anything. There are some good ones. Charolette and Calvin constantly raise their hands to speak to me and show me their artwork. Calvin is my little professor, he asks a million questions. I am honestly not enjoying the experience. I don't want to be their friend, I want them to be terrified of me, and shiver when I enter the room. I have officially marked teaching young children off of my list, even though it was never on my list.
Okay, so food. I was craving a hamburger so My friend and I set out on journey to find a real American hamburger. After an hour search we found the Union Bar & Grille. I had the burger you see before you, and a ceasar salad, so delicious. Just to let you know, I miss southern food. Give me some Cheese Grits, some Fried Chicken, something. I have been craving biscuits and gravy, and even bacon. 
As you can see, times are hard in some aspects, but it is beautiful in others. I will undoubtedly leave here with more questions than when I came. I am writing alot, keeping tabs on my thoughts, splendid and horrid, compassionate and hateful. Whatever I am thinking. I feeling a strong desire to write a book. I don't know about what, just the thoughts I have I guess. Be on the look out. Until I blog I again.
4 comments:
Ben, American isn't "white culture" it is Western/Capitalist culture. You have to remember being an "African-American" is confusing to people in other countries b/c America is the only place that has hyphenated-Americans. In every country except the US you ARE where you are from. For instance: Jamaica=Jamaican, Africa=African, Britain=British, etc. You are from America, therfore you are American. PERIOD! White people don't go around saying "I'm a Scottish-American, b/c my great great grandfather was Scottish. African-American are the only people who do that. Now I know what your thinking - what about Asian-Americans? That is a title bestowed upon them. They don't call themselves Asian-Americans. It can be frustrating, but that is the way the world views it. When I was in Jamaica and the Bahamas, we were Americans FIRST, Black second.
Perhaps, America is a tricky place because of its Diversity. However, I dare say all minority cultures (Ethnicity) cling to themselves, and for the most part each have some connection to the country there ancesters came from, Latin America, Japan, Korea, so on and so forth. European cultures do not necessarily do this (Maybe Italians do), because as Matt Damon says to Joe Pesci in "The Good Shepherd" they have the United States Government, which also means a hold on American culture. Now, that was more truer during the formulation of the CIA than it is today. American is my Nationality and culture, but what's my Ethnicity, which is also a part of my culture. To some, this may be unimportant, which is fine, but to me because of my travels it has become increasingly important. Names will always be hyphenated as long as we stay divided, and that division is not one cultures fault, but all cultures fault, not necessarily a negative, but just something that is. I assume that African-Americans hyphenated themselves because there was a desire to stay in contact with their cultural heritage. In fact, one reason usually cited for the hyphenation is the inability to trace what African culture we are from. If such information was kept, we probably would never be considered Africa-Americans, but here we are. I dare say that my generation is so lost right now, not because they have forgotten where they came from, you know I hate that stupid worthless phrase; but rather they don't know what culture to be. I am American, and that comes out loud and clear whenever I travel, but my complexion says that I am something else too. My blood says the same.
My suggestion is that you read some Charles Taylor and some Stuart Hall which deal with identity and the yearning of people for an ethnic identity that may or may not actually exist, especially within the American context.
My second suggestion is that next time you just think of ME and not Rushton, too! Just kidding.
Have you an address, my friend?
As I was experiencing your frustrations and revisiting some of my own past frustrations, it dawned on me that frustration is good.Frustration says, "I am at the end of my rope."It points to an undeveloped territory laying dormant within us longing to fulfill its potential, thereby, adding new dimension to our personage. As we learn to turn these dormant areas over to the Master Gardner,He endows us with the knowledge,understanding and wisdom to turn that desrt land into a blooming oasis. The frustration associated with not being in control of things or people are character flaws on their way to perfection when we let Him be Him in the situation. I firmly believe that every experience that He allows to enter into your life is part of the preparation for you becoming the man that He has in His Mind for you to become.(That would be a good poem - "I am becoming the man.") He is preparing you for your destiny. I don't have a clue as to what that is but I do know that you are "my genius" and that the same joy that I experience as I watch my plants grow and bloom is the same joy that I have now as I am watching you grow and bloom. Rest assured ,Ben, that in every situation you are always the victor and never the victim.
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