ABN: American-born Nigerian

A. A.

Thursday, September 9, 2004

            When a stranger takes a look at me, they immediately assume that I am of Caribbean descent. After denouncing this assumption, I proudly declare, “Actually, I’m Nigerian”. The statement that follows is usually something like this, “You don’t look African” or “But, you don’t have an accent.” Already accustomed to these remarks, I often respond saying, “Both of my parents were born in Nigeria. I am a first generation Nigerian-American.” It is rather amusing to engage in a debate regarding whether I should consider myself a Nigerian.

            Who defines what it is to be a Nigerian? Is it the color of our skin or the manner in which we speak? Perhaps, it is a “state of mind” or it can be seen in our character. In a past issue of either the African Abroad or African NewsReel newspaper, a young woman wrote about the Igbo ethnic group. Before anyone labels what it is to be Igbo, you must first be a living example for others to see. Simply knowing your ethnic dialect whether it is Igbo, Yoruba, or Edo does not exclusively make one a Nigerian. Allow me to illicit this point by using an interesting example.

            An annual African beauty pageant consisted of many young women of color from various parts of Africa and the Caribbean. When asked by the organization’s coordinator to bring a flag of any African nation or one of their own countries, there was one Nigerian contestant who revolted. She argued that she wanted to represent the American flag because this is where she was born. However, this individual although born in the U.S., was brought up in Nigeria! My question is, “When an American citizen is reared or spends a great deal of time elsewhere, are they not still considered a Nigerian?” Many couples and families today continue to leave Nigeria to give birth to a child in the U.S. After doing so, they return back home and continue with their lives until that child is ready to enter the university. Indeed, there is nothing wrong with allowing your child to have access into what many refer to as “The Land of Opportunity”.

            The main line of reasoning that I am trying to arrive at is the fact that in order to keep Nigeria alive, we must carry our father’s land not only in the back of our minds, but also within our hearts and in our daily lives. Parents, who bring up their children in the U.S., should try to instill the culture and rich heritage of Nigeria. Teach your children their language, tell them stories about Nigeria, provide them with recipes for cooking Nigerian dishes and guide them while preparing it; most importantly, take your family home with you when you visit every summer or during Christmas. It has become a common thing among Nigerians, particularly among the Igbo, to find a child of Nigerian parents who denies their heritage due to indignity. The younger generations of Nigerian-Americans as well as those born home who now reside in the U.S. are lost. Dressing in provocative attire, sporting tattoos and multiple piercing is the cool thing to do. My question for them is, “ Does these material things define you?” If so, this is not a positive reflection of Nigeria. No one said that it would be an easy task to maintain our own culture on American soil, but what about the Asians, Jews, and Indians?

            I can still recall the day when my fellow Nigerians called me “A.B.N.” as I walked into the room. They laughed as they spoke in Broken English saying, “Ah, come and see American-born Naija oh!”  What was later revealed to them is a young lady who epitomized what it means to have class, dignity and respect for herself and the land of her ancestors. Yes, you can see Nigeria when you look at my past, my present, the future, and me.

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*The author of this powerful piece chooses to remain anonymous and would like to be referred to as “Double A”; she also refuses to enclose her photo and is currently in school as a pre-medical student. Thank you.

8/13/04