I wish... When metaphors are no good.

Written By : The Queen Abena J. Asanti

Sometimes I wish I could be alone with my African self.

I wish I could go practice my African traditions without interference or observation of others.

I wish I had the benefit of my ancestors labor.
I wish I had the benefit of ALL of my African intellectual property.
I don’t recall any notation of it being signed away but alas conventional wisdom always refers to someone outside of me.

I wish my rule book wasn't one crafted by others.

I wish that Africans could decide who was worthy of leadership and make those assumptions based on what they provide to the community and not who they sleep with, or what they believe.

I wish I had the capacity to believe and maintain that there is no devil. That Jesus was important but, not necessarily a virgin born of a virgin. That Muhammad, Elijah or otherwise was not the last messenger but a part of a continuous message of living better and treating people right. Perhaps Jesus was just Mary and Joseph’s remarkable baby. Just like I am the remarkable child of two good people. I wish that my African self could be alone to contemplate who the Jews really are without reference to anyone other than African self. I wish I didn’t have to share my story with those who have none.

I wish my African femaleness could be appreciated by my African maleness without being looked over because of my inability to recreate the idea of womanhood of others.

I wish that while being an African all by myself I could decide that male and female do not necessarily have specific gender roles as defined by someone else. That it is perfectly okay for me to operate in the best interest of the family even if I'm the only one able and capable to maintain one or a part of a unit given the task. That I am not lacking as other women may be to meet the demands of parenting and providing as the universe requires. The last word should not be designated by order of anatomical differences. Being male does not necessarily mean having rule over a female in my African world.

My African ideal state of relationship includes the fact that I can pick up a shot gun and point it in the defense of just as well as my brother. And we may need to stand back to back pointing them in opposite directions. The idea of me running, hiding and fainting in the face of trouble is neither welcome or expected. It also should not preclude me from companionship.

I’m tired of being everybody’s mammy… When it’s broke I fix it, even when I’m not the one who broke it.
I wish I didn’t have to fight my African self about what I believe nor have the need to justify or be called upon to teach someone else the validity of my creation.

I wish other folks wouldn’t show up in my sorority, nor worship my ancestors, nor be found rocking to the beat and sweet strains of gospel music. I wish they wouldn’t rap either. I wish my cornrows never adorned any head that wasn’t specifically and divinely created African Nappy.


I wish I could be alone with my African thoughts
Then maybe I could get my African self together and save the world.