Thoughts on being the only black one: Central America
Our first continent was Central America. This was a unique experience because my name is Daniella Maria Patterson. Upon landing in Honduras a customs worker read my name and began to give me instructions in Spanish. I then said, “Sorry I don’t speak Spanish”. It was nice being in central America because I didn’t have to worry about people getting my name wrong or have to repeat my name.
Before I give stories I want to start by saying that these are my experiences and filtered through my lens. This is not how all black people experience things; just how I, Daniella, have experienced things.
Here we go!
I would like to go by each country and explain what it was like.
Honduras: We had a married couple, David and Scarleth, as our host. Scarleth is Honduran and David is a Texan who grew up in Honduras. Scarleth would make the joke about being black and she would say, “See? Our skin is the same!” and I loved it! David would correct her and tell her she can’t say those things because it’s offensive in the States and she would respond with “I know”. I would let him know that I’m ok with it because there is no one else that I can joke about it with. I had braids this month and questions came up about that and being the only black person in Valley De Angelos but having mocha skin, I fit in. I remember one time specifically, I was walking around town with my team and someone made the comment, “We are a bunch of white people just walking around”. They then turned around and said “no we aren’t”, and I could see their remorse in that moment for not including me.
Nicaragua: I remember one time when we had arrived at the AIM base in Nicaragua. We were told we would be doing manual labor and immediately I thought, “What? No I don’t want to get darker”. I have always been amazed that white people look at black people differently because our skin is dark and different, yet as soon as the sun comes out they feel like they need to get darker. It’s such a crazy dynamic. When I walked out with long sleeves on, everyone thought I was crazy because they said it was too hot. But they didn’t know that in the States if you’re light skinned you stay light skinned, if you’re brown you’re brown, if you’re dark skinned you’re dark skinned. However, I didn’t explain this because — well, how do you without sounding rude? Because I wanted to say ‘y’all make us feel like our skin isn’t good.’ (I will explain a little more in a later post) ‘It’s like y’all want to be us but not fully commit.’ I didn’t know how to explain it without giving a history lesson about slavery. The basics I was taught was that if you were lighter, it meant you worked in the house. The darker you were, meant you worked in the fields.
Costa Rica- Prior to arriving to Costa Rica we had to take this thing called a Destiny Assessment. (I have referenced this in a previous blog) It was because of this assessment that I was willing to do the unthinkable, at least in my book. The assessment made me realize that I was having a hard time letting my hair down with the squad. I didn’t feel like I would be fully accepted but some of it was because I was rejecting myself. I stood before the squad, after having a talk with our mentor, and told them that I realized that I wasn’t letting my personality show due to things from my childhood. I also shared that I was struggling with being the only black person on the squad and that while I am asked how I’m doing I gave them permission to ask how I am doing in becoming unapologetically me and how I am doing being the only black woman. I took out my braids a few days before which symbolized me stepping in vulnerability with people whom I knew would ask me questions. While in Costa Rica, I began to realize the little things about being from black culture. One was music, while a lot of people know the popular black music – the R&B songs me, my family and my friends listen to were not at the top of the list or being played. I remember cooking with my team and playing my playlist and no one, I mean no one, sang along. Where if I were at home, everyone would sing their part and then we would just suggest other songs. It was weird and I began to feel alone.
Panama- I LOVE PANAMA! My host was and still is amazing. Mis padres and mis hermanos! However in Panama the trigger about being black really began. It was our first day on the property and we had a potential translator, giving us the ins and outs about Rio Sereno. With that, he began explaining his missionary experience and how he and his family ended up in Panama. One of his stories explained how a group of missionaries went to a city in Haiti that had never seen white people before. The people in this village were amazed to see this and did various things to try to understand what they were seeing. Revival broke out and the Haitians let loose. Our translator then looked at Hannah, my teammate who is from South Carolina, and said, “Have you been to a black church? Those people really know how to do it”. He completely ignored me sitting at the same table and in that moment I honestly wanted to cry because I didn’t know what to say. I was clearly ignored and no one else knew what to say either. That moment began the process of learning to shut down to the people around me. It led to the lie that I can’t relate to any of these people. Afterwards, I expressed this hurt to my team but I do not believe that I was able to express what I was feeling very effectively. I realized that was the moment when I began to feel a need to prove myself in leading this group. I didn’t believe that the Lord had placed me in that role, therefore I had to prove to the white people who I was and why I was worthy of the leadership role.
As I have typed some of the experiences I had in Central America, it has brought a realization that: While I knew what I was walking into coming on the race, I didn’t know the experiences that would come with being the only black person. I look back at my first three months on the race and see how this has been a journey of identity. Like I stated in my Orange Fanta post, I love being black! I truly cannot imagine being any other race. Early on in those first three months, I realized that I have been with Americans but that I was raised differently. The beauty of America is that it has many different cultures and you can learn from each of them but overall there are expectations to be accepted in the culture, built by and for white people. I realized that I know more about the America of white people than they know about my history and culture. For some, this is the first time that they are treated differently because of their skin color. For some, they have a level of understanding privilege and this is their first time having to teach others about it. For me, this was the first time I had to learn to be me and to embrace all that it entails. While I grew up similar, it is important for me not to hide who I am simply because I act and think differently. I do not have to shy away from myself. Self-rejection is real. Some may even call the rejection of my blackness: internalized oppression. I believe that no one on my squad put this pressure on me, I did it to myself and Central America was the beginning of pulling back the layers of this onion. With each layer you tear up, you want to stop peeling but if you stop – you won’t have enough onion to make the desired dish. The dish I am making represents freedom from societal standards and freedom to be authentic.
I want to end by saying: To the only black person that is reading this, don’t hide who you are. If you’re mad be mad. If you’re hurt, be hurt. You have nothing to prove to anyone. Say what you need to say, as John Mayer puts it, and be free. Understand that you matter and that there is no reason to not let yourself be seen for all that you are. I wish these are words were spoke to me before leaving the country, and maybe they were, but this is a reminder to myself — Be You Boo!
Next Continent Asia!
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