Blog Post 5: Cultural Identity

    My dad and mom separated when I was only two years old. He moved out of the country and he's been there ever since. He still wanted to be a part of my life in any way that he could, which resulted in phone calls. I don't remember how often they were but when he called I was always pretty excited. He would always want to send me something, and most of the time it ended up being money. Except for one time, he told me that he was going to send me a present. I was so happy about it. I waited and waited and when it finally arrived, I was shocked as to what it was. He had sent me an outfit from Senegal. My dad was born and raised there. He always made sure I knew that I was Senegalese and even taught me some things about it over the phone. The outfit he had sent me wasn't something that I would normally wear, and I was hesitant to wear it. 

    I went to a predominately white elementary school, and it was hard for me to like being a little black girl. I wanted straight hair and green eyes. I wanted to fit in as much as possible so that I didn't stand out. It wasn't like I was treated extremely differently because I was black. There just wasn't anyone who looked like me and I hated that I was different. I felt like I didn't fit in anywhere. This is why I relate to that passage we read from Maya Angelou. I wanted to look like all the other girls in my class. I wanted to fit in, in a similar way that she did.

    When I got this outfit from my dad, I was hesitant to wear it for that exact reason. I didn't want to look different. At the time I already wore the hijab (headscarf) and that was difficult for me. My mom kept telling me to wear the outfit, and that it was nice that I could represent my culture. I still didn't want to and held off from wearing it for a while. Eventually, my dad called again and was sad to hear that I hadn't worn it yet. I felt bad afterward and decided that I would wear just the top with some jeans instead of the skirt. The shirt was yellow, with a brown and reddish pattern on it. It was long and went almost to my mid-thigh. It had flared sleeves and the end of the sleeves had yellow decorations on them. The same decoration was on the bottom of the shirt. It wasn't the most comfortable thing to wear because the fabric was itchy, but I wore it anyways. 

    My mom had a conversation with me the night before I was going to wear it. She told me that I should be proud to wear it. I should be proud to be black and to be Senegalese. Being black was amazing and knowing a part of my culture was a privilege that not a lot of African Americans have. After that talk, I was happy to wear it. I wore it all the time. My classmates had questions about it and I answered them proudly and they thought it was cool. I realized that it's okay to look different and I learned to love and embrace being black. I also learned to accept that Senegalese part of myself. I think I still have the outfit in my house, at least I hope I do.

(I don't have a picture of the outfit, unfortunately.)