Recent Reflection: Being Called “African, Not Black
I migrated to the U.S. from Ghana in my teenage years, and the transition was enveloped in opportunities for growth and connectivity with new communities. I have grown to appreciate the rich layers of my identity shaped by my Ghanaian roots and those fostered while living here. But there’s one experience that has followed me for many years: being referred to as “African, not Black.
The first time someone said it to me, I didn’t know how to feel. At the same time as I was proud of my African heritage and the rich culture that grew me up, I felt this strange alienation. Growing up in Ghana, I loved the celebrations, the music, and the sense of community that were at the core of my childhood. It was as though my experiences living in the U.S. and navigating life as a Black person here were being invalidated. The reality is, moving to the States didn’t erase the color of my skin or the assumptions that came with it. I’ve faced racial profiling, microaggressions, and moments where I’ve felt the weight of systemic racism. These experiences made me realize that my identity as a Black person isn’t separate from my identity as an African it’s an expansion of it.
But looking back, I can see how I began to internalize some of these comments. I started feeling like I didn’t fully belong to either group-as if I wasn’t “Black enough” because I didn’t grow up in the U.S. or “African enough” because I’d embraced parts of life here. I even found myself hesitating to speak about my experiences, unsure of where they fit into the larger narratives of either identity.
It is a beauty I have learned lately: holding multiple identities. I have learnt that I don’t have to choose between African and Black because they coexist. Each single one of them is valid; together, they speak for me.
Now, if I’m told, “African, not Black,” the justification isn’t really necessary anymore; it is a reflection of how far I have come to accept the full range of my experiences. My identity is not dictated by one else’s perception, but rather shaped from where I come from, through the challenges faced, and the connections made on the way.
Ultimately, I’ve learned that identity is personal and multifaceted. It’s okay for it to feel messy or complex it’s what makes it beautiful. And for me, being both African and Black is a source of strength, pride, and belonging.
Unruly Bodies 
Wow, i really enjoyed reading this as someone who has Ghanaian parents when i go back home i feel like im not African enough because i was born in America. I didn’t really think about how others in opposite positions could feel the same as me and it is a bit comforting to know i am not alone.. Although i wasn’t born in Ghana it is still a part of me, my story, my journey as is America for you. I’m glad you were able to see the positives of all of this.
Your reflection is incredibly thoughtful and really captures the complexity of identity. I find it admirable how you have managed to navigate through the tension between being “African” and “Black” and turned it into a celebration of both parts of yourself. Your acknowledgment of identity being personal and multifaceted is so empowering, and your words remind us that we don’t have to fit into narrow boxes imposed by others. The resilience and self-acceptance cultivated through this experience are indeed inspiring.
Hello, as an African American, I truly feel this on the opposite side of this. The division we experience as Black people is so draining. Im dark skin with unambiguously Black features, so there have been many times where someone assumed me to be African, and was disappointed when wasn’t. Me being African American wasn’t enough to them, so I genuinely relate to your story. I love how you’ve been able to silence the outside noise and find the strength of how identity from within.
Hello, It rlly enjoyed reading this and related deeply. I and a second gen immigrant born from Nigerian parents and pretty much have spent my whole life here so I saw that alienation through out my entire life. The diaspora wars are truly the most senseless debates to have ever graced my ears and wish most people would hush and go read up on pan africanism and save us from this constant headbutting.