Akata

At its core, it is a derogatory term, and unlike its hip sibling, there is no double meaning or entendre. African parents -in particular- have long used it to insult the "bad blacks."

"The akatas are lazy, disrespectful, and have no culture."

The absence of nuance often leads to ignorance. In my experience, said nuance came in the form of visiting family. They seldom came down from Texas, so when Mum said our five-bedroom in Lagos would be home to them for a few days, I was unsure how to feel about it. I loved them, but I didn't know them. Would we get along? Would they try to one-up me every chance they got? My cousins were very much Nigerian but very much American in a time before "other" was embraced. They wore their struggles of assimilation on their sleeves, and that first meeting was an acquaintance of drastically different world views.

Visiting Texas offered a counter perspective, and meeting their friends was my first real interaction with an "akata." I remember asking my oldest cousin IK why his mom kept referring to his teammates as that, and he explained that "They were black but not black like us." It took moving there years later to understand what he meant by that.

There are typically two versions of the Black American. There is the version they present around other black people (kinfolk) and the version they offer to others (primarily white people). This version is also prevalent in corporate spaces, and the ability to navigate between both versions is dubbed "codeswitching."

In most black immigrant circles, a third version is prevalent. This is the version of themselves reserved for others that share in the black immigrant experience. It is often reserved and unspoken. It is typically introduced with darting eyes across the room to others of kin, followed by a smile with the understanding that a conversation about the situation would be later. All versions are expressed equally, acceptable, and embraced in a perfect world. In reality, the degree to which one version is expressed typically highlights where one stands within the community.

"They're black but not black like us."

The fallacy in all the rebuke is that there would be no African immigrant without the work of the civil rights movement. There would be no Chimamanda on Fearless without Coretta's sacrifice. The prohibition of discrimination was not limited to Black people. The progenitors of the bill had the foresight to include all people of color and leave the door open to people even beyond the shores of these United States. Bills like the Cuban Adjustment Act of '66 and the Haitian Refugee Immigration Fairness Act (HRIFA) of '98 can all trace their origins to the Civil rights bill of '64. "Title VII of the Civil Rights Act of 1964 prohibits discrimination in hiring, promotion, discharge, pay, fringe benefits, job training, classification, referral, and other aspects of employment, based on race, color or national origin."

After the bill was signed in '64, other systemic forms of oppression emerged. Policies like Redlining and over-policing saw an increase in harassment, arraignment, and eventually, incarceration of African American men, which led to a break in traditional family structures that had endured in communities since before the times of slavery. Single-parent homes became the norm, wealth accumulation became impossible, and the focus shifted to survival.

A lack of fundamental understanding of the African-American experience has led to the current divide in opinion. On the one hand, the African-American experience is often perceived as the universal experience of blackness. This usually limited view of the world tends to result in ignorance when dealing with racial situations outside the United States.

The rise of the internet and the proliferation of social media has led to discourse between the different factions of the black diaspora, unfortunately not always with positive outcomes. Often Non-American blacks would be seen regurgitating racist talking points. They often look down on their American counterparts as limited, lazy, timid, dangerous, etc. A lot of this skewed perception could be attributed to the portrayal of African Americans by the media.

"Slavery, slavery, slavery. How long will they continue to use that as an excuse to beg?"

The news coverage of African Americans and African American stories is exceptionally problematic. Articles are propagated with micro-aggressions, and blatant racism is presented as "fact." The Center for American Progress, in an article from 2018, cites a report from a case study done in New York City of late-night news outlets in New York City in 2014 in which it was found that the media reported on murder, theft, and assault cases in which black people were suspects at a rate that far outpaced their actual arrest rates for these crimes.

Black crime suspects are also presented as more threatening than their white counterparts. It does this in several ways, such as showing the mug shots of Black suspects more frequently than white suspects, depicting black suspects in police custody more often, and paying greater attention to cases where the victim is a stranger.

The same article cites a study in which it was found that 66 percent of the time, news coverage between 1995 and 2004 showed Latinos in the context of either crime or immigration. More recent analysis confirms these findings. This treatment of Latinos as criminals and outsiders is especially concerning, given that Latinos are rarely represented in the news media.

Ultimately, the answers to furthering our cause lie on the other side of unity and a drive to succeed and see others succeed. Recognizing that division plays a role in continuing the cycle of oppression and the longevity of our people solely depends on overcoming our differences and seeing each other as kindred spirits and victims of the same beast.

Yibambe

Photo © Cottonbro