大象传媒

“Where are you from?” is always a question I’m not sure how to answer. I know what people are really asking, but honestly, their guess is as good as mine.

Once, a girl asked me, “Aren’t you Jamaican?"

“No, that's my roommate," I responded. 

Then came the question I've heard so many times before. “Where are you from?”

 “Georgia,” I said. 

“No, like where are you actually from?” 

“Georgia…” 

“You can’t be from here.”

“Yes, I can…because I am.”

“Oh. That’s so sad.”

I didn’t know what to say to that. What exactly was supposed to be sad? That I couldn’t name another country? That my family has been in America for generations? Or that somewhere along the way, parts of my ancestry became impossible for me to trace?

If she had said that to someone from any other country, it would have been considered offensive and a very inappropriate thing to say. These days, I find myself trying to avoid this question altogether. I hear comments like this often, especially on this campus, and after a while, they can make me feel as though my culture is somehow less valid simply because it is American. But being from the United States does not mean being without culture. Black American culture is real, distinct, and deeply rooted in history, tradition, family, community, music, food, language, art and shared experiences. I should not have to look outside of the country I was born in to find a culture worth recognizing. Sometimes, being American is the culture, and that culture can have just as much history, meaning and significance as any other.

I am also frequently asked what American and more specifically, what Black American culture looks like. People ask about our food, traditions and cultural customs in general. When I talk about soul food dishes like macaroni and cheese, collard greens, cornbread, biscuits, fried chicken and candied yams, people begin to understand what I mean. But, these conversations make me wonder why I have to prove that my culture exists before it’s recognized as one. When someone from another country shares a food, dance, or custom that is meaningful to their culture, we generally accept and respect what they tell us about their own experience. I believe Black Americans deserve that same consideration. Our culture may have developed within a different historical context, but that does not make it any less meaningful or worthy of recognition. I should be able to share something as part of my culture without first having to establish that my culture is valid enough to claim it.

This made me think more deeply about how Black American dance is viewed on our campus. According to the Student Handbook, regarding dance, it says that the only dances allowed on campus are traditional cultural dances. “... or dance performances as part of University-sponsored cultural education or celebration is allowed but must be limited to traditional cultural dances. Modern cultural dances are not permitted.” This brings up a good question to ask: What determines when a dance becomes “traditional” rather than “modern?” This is something that the handbook doesn’t elaborate on, but one university employee explained it this way: “If you're teaching it to your grandmother it’s not cultural, if your grandmother is teaching it to you then it is cultural.” I understand the reasoning behind this, but I wonder whether generational age alone is enough to distinguish between traditional and modern. 

Black American culture developed under very different circumstances compared to many cultures around the world, and because of this, some of our traditions may be younger. Even so, they still carry cultural meaning. My family loves to dance, and I get much of that love from my mom. Wherever we go, if there's music playing, chances are you’ll see the two of us moving, whether that be the electric slide or the LV dance that has always been a natural part of how my family celebrates and has fun. My grandmother didn’t teach me to dance, but I learned dances like the Electric Slide and Charlie Brown from my mom and aunt. These dances have been passed down through many Black communities. Does the fact that it’s a newer tradition make it any less cultural? Does it make it any less valid or worthy of being shared?

I think we can be more open in the way we recognize culture on campus. We should not limit our cultural celebration to cultures that originate in other countries but also recognize the ones that have developed right here in the United States. As a Black American, there are moments where I mourn a culture and history that were taken from my ancestors that I will never fully know. At the same time, the culture that grew from that history is sometimes treated as not quite cultural enough. But Black American culture has deep roots of its own. We have our own food, language and musical traditions that created jazz, the blues, hip-hop, rap and so much more. These things aren’t just trends but echoes of a cultural legacy that has been preserved through generations.

I would love to see our campus make room for all those expressions without treating one version of Blackness as more authentically cultural than another. Blackness is incredibly diverse. Someone whose family comes from Haiti and someone whose family is from Mississippi may have very different traditions, food and music, but neither experience is more valid than the other. There should be room for both, and both should be respected as a valid cultural expression. If our goal is to celebrate culture and create a campus where everyone feels included, then Black American culture deserves to have a place in that celebration too.