Africa elitists

While I was in Europe, I had a lot of time to think. About my future. About a career. About life. I spent time in Amsterdam attempting to brazen through the labyrinth that is my family. In London I supported a good friend who will soon be taking the consulting world by storm. I also realized just how small the world really is when I met up with Zigoto, my Cameroonian brother. Finally in Edinburgh I reminisced with an American friend about the two weeks we spent in Africa.

This trip made me confront some interesting feelings, and what I learned is this: There are always going to be people in the world: family, ‘friends’, and strangers who dismiss you. Who define you buy your appearance. Your job. Your title. Your field of study. Your age. But their definitions have nothing to do with you and everything to do with them.

While I was catching up with my American friend who shared my experience in Cameroon, an interesting concept came up… Africa elitism. We defined it as: people who think they are morally and intellectually superior because they feel they have more knowledge and understanding of Africa. They have lived in Uganda. They have worked with the Peace Corps. Or maybe they have friends in Botswana. Whatever their relationship to Africa, they feel they are superior to those whose relationship with the continent is just beginning. Let us be clear; this does not include everyone who has experience in Africa. In fact, it is probably only a very small percentage of people who feel that their knowledge gives them this elite status. But never the less, those that do think this way have a large impact on how the rest of us view African studies.

She remembers how she and some of our friends were looked down upon by our fellow American travelers. What was it that made them think she was inferior. Was it the fake nails? Was it the blow-dryer and the makeup in her suitcase. Or maybe it was all her laughing? What was it that made these Africa elitists think that she didn’t care about the issues?

It’s absurd really - the idea that because you care about how you look, you can’t care about Africa. That because you laugh and joke, you can’t possibly be respectful or serious about learning anything. And worse yet, that because of these things, you have nothing to offer. I knew exactly what she meant…

Let’s be honest; these Africa elitists usually do know more about issues facing Africa and have been interested in African development for a relatively long time. But this is in part why their way of thinking is so tragic. They have so much they could share: their experiences, knowledge, and insight. All the things they have seen and learned - they really do have so much to offer. But you know what, so do I, and so do my friends.

There are always going to be people that judge you. Who think that they have you “figured out”. Who think that they can wrap you up in a nice neat box and but you at the bottom of their closet and dismiss you. Because after all, what can you possibly offer them? You’re just another pretty female college student who is more interested in her boyfriend, or sorority, or her clothes than anything important. You’re nothing special. Nothing exotic. Nothing inspiring. Nothing epic.

Well, in the spirit of the New Year, I have something to say to all of these people...

Everyone has something to offer and as much as I hate to break it to you, people don’t fit into perfect little boxes. Everyone is fighting a battle. Everyone has a story. A beginning. A history. And often times an end. And while you are preoccupied with looking for something special, worldly, and exotic, you are missing out on the beauty that is sitting right in front of you. The beauty that is human nature. You’re passing up a chance to share your experiences and learn something from ours. And you know what, it is a tragedy. But it’s your tragedy.

So spare me your condescending remarks and attempts to make yourself feel superior. Don’t receipt definitions about the endogenous theory (I am after all an economics major) and don’t’ tell me that I can’t possibly care about African development while wearing my Marc Jacobs heels. I am going to make a difference with my life. I don’t know how, and I have no idea when. But I do know that the only way I can get there is by opening my heart and my mind. By remembering that we all have something to offer – we are all only a single piece of the puzzle that is bigger than anyone of us alone. You can choose to be a part of it, or not. The choice is all yours.

When I was in London with Zigoto, he told me about the vision he had for this world. With a great big smile on his face he described a wonderfully colorful world. With people from every different country, of all different colors, with diverse knowledge, working together to fix the world’s problems.

“One world” he told me, “How beautiful it would be if we all worked together.”