Being White

Being White

I knew I would be different. I knew I was white. I knew Africans were black. I knew I would be the small percentage of white in a black culture. But what I didn’t know was how difficult it would be. I didn’t know what the real implications of being white in a black culture were. But now I understand.

It wasn’t until I became the minority where I started to learn about what it meant to be white. I had never thought about being white until recently. What is “white culture”? What are the implications of my skin color to Uganda, to Africa, to the rest of the world? Growing up in a non-diverse area, the opportunity to look at being white never came up. It was just how it was. I naively thought everyone saw the world through my lens. Sure, there was the slave trade starting in the 1600s, the civil war in the 1800s, and the civil rights movement in the mid-1900s, but that is in history now, that’s all over right? There is no such thing as inequalities because of race now right? We don’t live in a world that judges both character and wealth by the color of one’s skin do we? WRONG.

The truth is that we live in a world that strongly operates based on the assumptions of race. And thee most powerful and privileged race in the world is that of the white individual. In east Africa, the term mzungu is labeled to all white people in the country. It can be offensive at first because in the US it is rude to identify someone by their race, but here in Uganda the term literally translates to someone of good standing. So when children are running after white people screaming mzungu! Mzungu!, simply trying to catch a smile or wave, they are telling that person how well-off they are. In other words, they are saying because I am white, I have good standing and I’m essentially better.

In the United States if one is a minority, (African-American, Latino, Asian, Native American, etc) they are more likely to be in poverty, be unemployed, be in prison, not go to college, have teen pregnancy, develop a mental illness, be an alcoholic, not make as much money, and the list seriously goes and on and on of ways non-whites are discriminated against. We live in a world that is dominated by the color white. And the reason it is so powerful is because no one sees it—it’s invisible.

Each of the times I have visited a public place in Kampala where security checks are at every door, I have never once been inspected. If a traffic officer sees me in a vehicle, our car is exempt from the rules of the road. Because I’m white, it’s like I’m above the law, and above morality. At my internship in rural Kisoga, children crawl on my skin, rubbing it up and down, simply wanting to just touch it. All of this drives me crazy, not just because of the attention, but because I don’t want anyone to believe that I am any better than anyone else because I’m white. I don’t want to be treated like a god. If those children touch my skin they won’t be healed. I’m human, I’m a sinner, and just because I’m white doesn’t mean I don’t struggle and I don’t have hardships.

I have had to realize the position God has put me in in this world. I am white. And that is not going to change. I need to be an advocate for the discrimination and disparity happening around the globe due to racism. Yes, my skin has power, but more than that it has influence. And as I navigate what that really means in this world, I will have to learn to speak up for those who cannot and use my whiteness for good.

This next 10 days I will living in rural Capchorwa, east Africa, to live with a host family on a farm and do life with them. I couldn’t be more excited. Please pray for an open-mind and adaptability as I navigate what rural African living is!

Ali