“’Twas mercy brought me from my Pagan land,
Taught my benighted soul to understand
That there’s a God, that there’s a Saviour too:
Once I redemption neither sought nor knew.
Some view our sable race with scornful eye,
‘Their colour is a diabolic die.’
Remember, Christians, Negros, black as Cain,
May be refin’d, and join th’ angelic train.

”

— Phyllis Whitley

I have been contemplating an argument that has gained traction within the black community, a conversation that had once been settled in the 60s, resurfaced after the death of George Floyd, and has recently escalated after Cam'ron, a black rapper, publicly declared his identification as 'Black.' His justification revolves around the belief that 'Africans don’t [associate] with blacks.’ This sentiment is rooted in the historical mistreatment of American blacks by African blacks and dates back to the days of slavery. Despite some Africans and other blacks around the world attempting to adopt American black culture, a lingering disdain for American blacks persists in our contemporary society.

While I appreciate Cam'ron's main argument, it's crucial to recognize that the term 'black' extends beyond its exclusive association with Americans. Distinct differences exist between American blacks and blacks globally, with these disparities rooted more in historical legacy than mere color. The contemporary American black population is diverse and not solely composed of descendants of slaves. Therefore, I hold a minor reservation regarding the term 'black,' as black is a shade or color and doesn’t encompass the broader aspects of race and nationality.

Since childhood, I have always wondered about my African ancestors. I wondered where on that large continent did their story began and how their path led them to a slave cargo ship. I was led to believe that black men and women were purchased by the white men who had told themselves that they were saving a cohort of no good, spoiled souls that deserved to be chained and bound because of their wicked, animalistic behavior. They convinced the world that black-skinned people's progress necessitated the intervention of the white men who purchased them.

When those black souls arrived on the American shores, they were told then they were not human at all. To their surprise, they had become cattle and needed to be bred like other animals. What I learned growing up is people will believe a lie if it brings them comfort. So many white people denied truth and embraced the lie without shame. Years after the Civil War and the Civil Rights movement, blacks continued to be spread that lie, sometimes overtly, other times subtly; nevertheless, we were fed that same narrative.

But then came Roots, the movie. Having watched the movie as a teenager, I recognized that blacks were exploited to build a nation. I learned Kunta Kenta represented the American black man—a real man. He was no animal. He had raped no one. He had stolen nothing. Blacks are human beings that were treated like cattle and purchased to till and build the American dream.

History attests to the fact that our ancestors played a pivotal role in building this nation and have made substantial contributions to its fabric. However, from the perspective of our African cousins, who sometimes rely on US foreign aid to feed their children, certain individuals migrate to America only to look down upon American blacks. While not universally shared, a prevailing belief among some is that they are superior to American black people, often characterizing us as lazy and ignorant, lacking heritage or culture in their eyes.

Many American blacks internalize this narrative, questioning their identity as if black skin doesn’t inherently signify African heredity. Pan-Africanists in search of an identity, embrace this lie. Americans, particularly black women, strive to reconnect with their African roots. Some adopt practices such as idol worship and consultation with ancestral spirits in the name of Asherah or other unknown gods. In Beyonce’s album, Lemonade, she pays homage to Oshun, one false Africian river god. Annually, American blacks celebrate Odunde, participating in African rituals like tossing flowers into a river in homage to another long-forgotten river god—her name lost to the pit of hell and unknown to most American black people.

It has become increasingly evident to me that the falsehoods ingrained in the narrative of American blacks mirror the misconceptions embraced by Africans. The very ancestors who played a role in selling our mothers and fathers into slavery perpetuate the belief that American blacks are ignorant of their true legacy. Similar to Lot’s wife, blacks look back in hopes of reconnecting with their ancestors and cling to this false narrative. Africans employ this perceived lack of heritage, lineage, and culture as a taunt towards blacks, projecting a sense of superiority based on their awareness of their 'heritage' and an indisputable tie to the African continent. This narrative implies that the skin color of black individuals doesn't inherently connect them to the shores of Africa.

Today, Africans have cast a critical eye on their war-torn, famine-infested land and are now asking the question, 'What have we done?'

After having sold off so many blacks, African nations are now witnessing a significant number of their citizens migrating from the continent to pursue life in affluent Western nations. They talk about colonialism but feign for the western lifestyle. Africans receive education in the West, attaining positions as lawyers and doctors in the UK and the US. They are unwilling to return to Africa to tend to their own sons and daughters. African leaders are beginning to raise the alarm. They are urging blacks in the diaspora to return to the motherland, especially American blacks, urging is to return and participate in the reconstruction and unification of their continent.

African Leaders like P.L.O. Lumumba, Peter Obi, Dr. Arikana Chihombori-Quao, and other African leaders have determined it was the white imperial nations from the West who are responsible for the destruction of Africa. Now they call for Western nations to pay them reparations for purchasing their most important commodity—the bodies of their brothers and sisters. At the same time, they quickly make it clear that they don't think African Americans should get reparations for the work our ancestors did for free. As if we don’t have any right to receive our ancestors forty-acres and a mule. Africans fail to read the red writing on the wall. Greed and corruption and, of course, their worship of white skin played a part in the destruction of the African continent—no doubt. However, Africa’s biggest sin was selling black bodies as if they were resources. They sold out their legacy—and now they want them back.

In the contemporary landscape, Africa holds two overarching aspirations. The primary one involves the removal of remaining western-colonial influences from its soil, exemplified by the situations in Niger, Mali and Burkina Faso., where coups have removed leaders with old ideas and Western allegiance. African leaders aspire for their youth to reclaim nations oppressed by white colonists. However, a significant challenge arises as the youth, having displaced their leaders, and now align themselves with communist nations. Both Russia and China engage in resource-for-land transactions, with China constructing airport terminals in Nigeria and Russia establishing gold refineries in Burkina Faso.

The second hope resides in the diaspora, particularly a great migration to Africa. A widespread call encourages all blacks who have demonstrated strength, resilience, and developed talents and skills for success in Western nations, specifically the US, to return and contribute their gifts to the Motherland. Numerous YouTube channels glorify life in Ghana, Uganda, and Nigeria, featuring American blacks showcasing their departure from Western values and their return to their roots. Leaders from Uganda to Nigeria extend their arms wide, calling on blacks to come home. Despite the enthusiastic portrayal of Africa's beauty on social media enticing this great return, certain challenges persist, including concealing issues like South Africa's discontent towards African refugees. South Africans fear that immigrants from other African nations are taking away their jobs, leading to civil unrest and efforts to deport individuals without proper paperwork.

American blacks, captivated by this idea, have relocated to countries like Ghana, Uganda, or Nigeria, only to discover that the promised utopia on social media does not align with reality. The journey of American blacks to the motherland is often driven by a desire to reconnect with ancestral roots. However, many Americans have found themselves confronting challenges ranging from scams to discrimination.

I do recognize that black communities in the United States have serious issues and this promise of hope in Africa brings a certain amount of appeal. Drugs infest many black communities; black men are imprisoned leaving countless children in our community fatherless. There is the vanishing black family, and of course, we continue to face covert and overt racism. At the same time, many people in our community grapple with behavioral challenges, exemplified in protests during the BLM movement and by events like the CHOP takeover in Seattle. However, despite our challenges, American blacks recognize our survival depends on collaboration within diverse communities, both Black and White communities. This is imperative, transcending the divisive narratives propagated by movements like Black Lives Matter.

The older I get the more I understand who I am. First, I am a Child of God—by God, let me be specific: Jesus Christ is God. Secondly, I have learned that I am an American. My legacy began in this land and has grown exponentially. Perhaps my ancestors root formulated someplace on the African continent, it was cut off and replanted in American soil.

In the ongoing discussion surrounding black identification, I've concluded that terms like American Black, African American or Black are all acceptable. Although, the term "black" itself is insufficient, as the world often associates it with Americans, the reality is anyone with African lineage can technically be referred to as such. The term African American in my opinion is much more appropriate as it emphasizes my American nationality and reminds of me of the history of my African lineage. We should never forget. I know there are some that will ask, who identifies as a continent? But my response would be, only a superior group of people could represent an entire continent. —thus the term African American.

I will say that some reject the use of ‘black’ due to the negative associations linked to the term. They use words like: 'blackmail', 'black market,' and ‘blackball’ to make the point that the term itself is negative. But black is also associated with rare beauty, evident in black diamonds, black pearls, black onyx, obsidian, coal and oil. With that understanding I have decided I don’t mind being call black. Feel free to refer to me as American Black, African American, or Black; however, please don’t ever refer to me as African without including the American descriptor.