Colorism, Growing Up Mixed-Ish...
While watching Mixed-ish with Tracee Ellis Ross, I was sent back into my childhood memories. In the show, she spoke about growing up mixed with a black mother and a white father. She described how she was ignored, and felt out of place in her world. Knowing that I was not alone struggling with my identity was refreshing.
My parents and I (December 1995)
I was born in Burkina Faso from a Cuban Mother and a Malian father. In 2001, I moved to Senegal when I was 5 where I lived for the next 12 years of my life. I grew up happy. My childhood was good even though it had its ups and downs. In Senegal, I was surrounded by a multitude of foreign schoolmates (Mauritania, Guinee Bissau, Congo, Togo, etc). Yet, I did not know who I was. I travelled to Mali during the summers where I hang out with my cousins. We were not as close because I lived in Senegal, and we wouldn’t stay in touch. When we were younger, everything was fine. My skin color was not an issue, nor was my lack of Bambara (Malian dialect). The older we got, the more apparent my skin color was. I used to stay inside the house to avoid hearing the word “Toubabou” in Bambara which means “White person”. I didn’t like it because I was given special treatment or being stolen from when I would look for a cab or go to the market because I didn’t know the language. My cousins reduced messaging me when going out, or they called me just to show me off to their friends. I didn’t like that kind of attention at all. I just wanted to be considered malian, without revoking my cuban side.
(Left to Right) My cousin, Me, My aunt… (Back) My Grandma and my other aunt (Cuba 2014)
Honestly, Mali was nothing compare to when I went to visit my mother side in Cuba. I was the black child of the family, “La Negra” (the black in Spanish). I recall trying to play with my cousins outside, and people would ask if I was part of the family. People was looking at me with disgust. Neither was I Cuban, nor Malian in everyone’s eyes . They wanted me to choose which country to represent but I couldn’t choose because I was both. I was the dark skin Afro-Latina who spoke French, Spanish and a bit of Bambara. I was an outcast and my only sanctuary was staying at home with my sisters who understood our dilemma. Home was the only place where I could have been myself and not a color.
I honestly think that people do not realize how hard it can be to be mixed. How hard it is to ask someone to chose a side of what makes them who they are. I’m glad that I can walk around now, and embrace where I come from even if it was a constant battle.
