Back With A New Perspective

Epiphanies are funny.

During the past ten months, I've written more than 250 blogs on a variety of personal and political topics. Most of those blogs have discussed the world from a distinctly pro-black point of view. Some of y'all may even remember me saying that I considered myself a black man before I identified as an American.

My vacation allowed me to re-consider that point of view.

I'm still pro-black, that will never change. But, the idea that I'm a black man before I'm an American, well I might have to rethink that.

See, I spent the past few days on an island teeming with black people. At every level of society and government there were black faces making decisions. On every street, black people went about their daily lives, and white faces were an anomaly. It was like an HBCU campus multiplied by 1000.

And I have rarely felt so uncomfortable.

It wasn't an obvious thing at first. Initially, I was enthralled. Walking through the airport surrounded by black faces had my head on a constant swivel. It was like I was in an alternate universe; a universe where black people were in control and no longer dependent on anyone else to survive. I imagine it's what many black people feel when they first arrive in Africa.

Then the poverty set in.

See, this island paradise has a serious problem with poverty. An American dollar is worth dozens of this country's dollars. Tourism is the second most important industry in the country after the remittance paid by natives who have left home for better jobs.

As I began to understand the full scope of the country's poverty, I also got a clearer picture of my role. I was not some long lost compatriot with whom the island's natives shared a connection because of our similar skin tones and historical backgrounds. Nope, I was just another wealthy American from whom they needed to scam a dollar.

That was a strange feeling.

I was surrounded by black people; they served me drinks, helped me do activities, drove me places and cleaned up after me. But, there was no kinship between us, no bond. In many ways, I felt like my presence was resented, that I was a necessary evil not a cherished and beloved distant cousin. Maybe this is a sign of my naivete, but the natives' attitudes shocked me. I was totally unprepared to be seen as an interloper and outsider by all these black people. I was unprepared to be simply seen as an American.

It's not that I've never been seen as an outsider by black people. Often when I travel to certain poorer neighborhoods for my job, my clothing and diction identify me as different. I don't truly belong in these neighborhoods, not matter how much I bop in my walk, or use ebonics. Yet, those situations did not prepare me for being viewed as just another American.

I've never really thought about being an American. On a certain level I've understood that Americans are blessed to have an amazing quality of life compared to much of the world, but because of this country's racial past and present it's always been difficult for me to generate the intense patriotism that so many other people possess.

Being a black American is a lot like dating the finest girl in high school who also has herpes. Sure, the advantages of being with a beautiful woman are immense, but having to constantly be on the lookout for an outbreak is a drag.

Traveling to this country reminded me of how completely American I really am. I think like an American and evaluate the rest of the world using American standards. I expect things to be done the American way. And, most importantly, I'm not pleased when other people don't want Americans around.

I was dismayed by how often people in this country tried to finagle extra money out of me because they assumed that as an American I could afford it. Or the way they became irate if I didn't pay them for any small task they did for me. It wasn't that I was adverse to tipping people, in fact I probably was one of the better tippers at the resort where I stayed, it's just that I've never been a fan of people aggressively seeking my money. I'm also not a fan of folks trying to con me out of my money.

Maybe this would have been a problem whereever I traveled, particularly if poverty was a problem in that country. In fact, I'm certain this is this case. Yet, for some reason, I expected a different feeling, a different experience when I was surrounded by black people. I guess I thought it would be like one big international family reunion.

This post may make it seem like I had a horrible vacation, but I really didn't. It was a nice place, and I had a decent time. I just came to realize that despite all my complaining about America, I don't think I would really be interested in living anywhere else.

I really am an American.

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