Since I was accepted into the Media in Ghana Program, I’ve felt nervous, excited, curious, and anxious about making my first international trip. For a long time, visiting Africa has been at the top of my travel bucket list. As an African American, I wanted to return to the place that my ancestors once called home.
The last couple of weeks leading up to the trip, I felt nothing but excitement. My parents’ initial anxieties about me traveling over 7,000 miles away from home soon turned into pride as when they realized I would be the first in my family to travel to Africa at just 19 years old. The realization of “wow, I’m doing this” didn’t fully hit me until my mom was driving me to PDX at 5 a.m. on June 26. I broke down into tears as I realized there was no turning back now: I would be in Africa for the next six weeks.
As I embarked on my journey, the built up anxiety and stress slowly transformed into excitement and joy. Although I didn’t have much experience traveling, it’s something I’ve always wanted to do. I couldn’t wait for one of my biggest dreams to come true.
As I’ve been in Ghana for the past week, I’ve continued to feel grateful, surprised, and amazed by this once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. Both of my parents are African-American. My dad’s family carries the common lineage of enslavement in Mississippi to freedom in Chicago. Although I’m aware of bits and pieces of our family history, much of it remains unknown. I don’t know where in Africa my ancestors came from, and I think that this uncertainty has led me to imagine my ancestors claiming Ghana as their home. I’ve had a recurring thought/feeling where I picture myself as one of the women carrying baskets atop their head, or one of the students attending the University of Ghana, or one of the children playing in the back of their family store. If not enslaved by the Portuguese, Dutch or British, this could have been my life—or my family’s. Although this feeling occasionally makes me sad, it also makes me feel a strong sense of connection and comfort to a place I’ve never set foot in. I see how Ghanaians can sense this imagined connection when they greet me as “sister.” They, too, understand how home had been stripped from our people.
I’ve continued to be reminded of the beauty of Blackness, a fact that has been ingrained into me since Iunderstood my parents’ words. Yet this beauty has manifested in a way I’ve never experienced before. Black beauty in Africa is different. I’ve encountered many firsts since being here. However, I’ve continued to find connections between the culture I’ve grown up with as a Black American. Black-eyed peas, protective hairstyles, music and spirituality are just a handful of these connections. Africa, Ghana, Accra are the places of my people. I am meant to be here. This is home.