Being "African" American

A Guest Blog for Black History Month by Ayomide Sekiteri 

(Ayomide Sekiteri is a Centennial Ambassador with the Student Conservation Association and the National Park Service, working as a Volunteer Coordinator on the National Mall in Washington, DC.)

After almost 23 years of living in America, I am still always questioning what it means to be black in America.  For many, this sounds like a foreign topic. I’m black and was born in America, end of story -- yet this is not the case. I spent many years learning to identify with being black in America.

Photo: Ayomide Sekiteri

My parents were born and raised in Nigeria. They later came to America and started a life for themselves.  A few years later, I was born in August of 1993 in Baltimore, Maryland. The moment I was born, I was placed in between two worlds, two ways of thinking, and two ways of living. I was the first generation in my family to become an American by birth. I never realized what an honor this was, or the pressure that it would bring to bear on my life. It wasn't as if I had a choice.

Photo: Google Maps

Growing up, it took me a while to even notice these differences. When I began school I was often faced with questions like:

• How do you pronounce that? (My name)
• Do you speak African? (Implicit in this question is that Africa is a country, not a continent, and that all Africans speak the same language.)
• Your English is great, when did you immigrate here from Africa?
• You're not really black. Do you consider yourself black?

The questions, no matter how innocent, made me wonder where I belonged. Though I was born in the United States, I was constantly treated as though I was a foreigner in my own country.

Photo: thesca.org (https://www.thesca.org/connect/blog/working-with-the-presidents)

Ayomide and her favorite monument on the National Mall

My story isn't unique. In the back of my mind, I always questioned where I fit into black history when everyone treated me differently, even when our skin was the same.

With age I have discovered that I have never needed to be one or the other, because I am both. I remain caught between two worlds, owning my African heritage and recognizing my blackness in America. I am also lucky enough to bridge this gap, to help unite these two histories and create a broader definition of what it means to be African American.

Photo: Ayomide Sekiteri