Editor’s note: Josephine Aprak is an African studies author and scholar and diversity consultant. The views expressed in this commentary are their own.read more opinions On CNN.
Berlin
CNN
—
As I travel around my hometown of Berlin, I often receive compliments on my good German, sometimes even after I explain to them that I was born and raised here. A follow-up question is, “But tell me, where are you actually from?”
It’s as if some people are unable to believe that a person can be black and German at the same time due to cognitive dissonance.
If Germany’s estimated one million black population is not more widely known, it may be because there is no central black town, city, or neighborhood. Most of us grew up isolated, scattered across the country, as one of the few, and sometimes the only, Black people in our schools and communities.
For example, in the elementary school I attended, I experienced marginalization as a black child. That’s despite living in a bustling metropolis that is, in fact, Germany’s largest city.
Black Germans (sometimes referred to as Afro-Germans) are difficult to group under one umbrella. There is no single description here that encompasses the diversity of Black people.
Some of us came to what was then East Germany as contract workers from former socialist brotherly countries such as Angola, Ethiopia and Mozambique. Some people have experienced the dangerous evacuation routes across the Mediterranean Sea, fleeing war and poverty, rather than seeing them on the news.
For some of us, our family history goes back to German colonial times. Some have black American fathers who were stationed here during World War II. And there are people that I don’t know the story of yet, but I hope to find out someday.
In my own case, I was born in 1986 to a white German mother and a black father from Ghana. My parents met in Berlin at a nightclub popular with black American GIs. To hear my mother say, if you want to hear really good dance music and do more than stand all night with your back to a wall, you have to go to a club frequented by black soldiers. did.
The same year I was born, a seminal work about black Germans, Showing Our Colors: Afro-German Women Speak Out, was published. Her mother also read the book that same year, and she knew that my experience in Germany would be different from her mother’s. She understood that I was going to experience racism like I had never experienced before, and that she was the only one who could protect me from it for a long time. The book has become something of a bible for black people in this country who are trying to understand what it means to be part of a broader diaspora community.
Many people in this country do not know how much of a role black people play in Germany’s history, how our past has been woven throughout the centuries. The historical circumstances in which black people came to Germany were marked by the violence of enslavement, colonization, and war. The plight of black people in Germany and throughout Europe was shaped by the Berlin African Congress, held from November 1884 to February 1885, in which 14 primarily European countries discussed the partition of the African continent, and Germany It quickly joined the ranks of African countries. global suzerainty. The territory occupied by Germany, in whole or in part, included the modern-day African countries of Namibia, Rwanda, Burundi, Tanzania, Cameroon, Togo, and Ghana.
Germany lost control of its African colonies early in World War I. That said, for most of the 20th century, Germany’s contact with peoples from African countries was limited compared to countries like France, Belgium, and Britain, which held colonies, as the aforementioned GIs and African immigrants arrived. This means that there were relatively few. These are people who came to Germany to work and study and eventually settled here.
For decades, black Germans have faced the difficult task of understanding where they fit within the African diaspora. The importance of American poet Audre Lorde in helping Black Germans build a sense of identity and community cannot be overstated. Lord taught African American literature and creative writing at the Freie Universität Berlin from the mid-1980s.
In her seminar, Lord created a much-needed permission system to allow Black women to share their experiences of racism with others like them for the first time. In doing so, she helped Germany’s black activists organize and network with each other. Lorde’s own intersectional experiences as a queer Black woman provide a template for many of us, allowing us to expand the frontier of possibilities for people of African descent, and for many of us to develop our own evolving identities. helped build.
How are you today? In Germany, as in the United States, research reveals that racism manifests itself in many different ways in everyday life. Black students perform poorly at similar academic achievement levels. Black patients are undervalued in the health care system and are thought to be less sensitive to pain. Racism here also leads to less access to housing, fewer jobs in the labor market, and less political representation and participation.
And the current political situation in Germany is, frankly, not encouraging. Just a few weeks ago, Collective reported that members of the AfD (Alternative for Germany) and CDU (Christian Democratic Union) parties were holding a secret meeting to discuss deporting people living here. revealed by the exposure. They are “not really German.”
Germany, of course, has a dark past of deporting and murdering people deemed not to belong. Most people know about the 6 million Jewish souls who died in concentration camps during the Holocaust. They may be less aware that similar fates have befallen Roma and Sinti, homosexuals, people with cognitive and physical disabilities, and some black people. This is part of our dark history that we must also raise.
So I return to Black History Month. I have spent his 17 years doing educational work on German colonial history and racism. This is almost half of my life. I think this is a time when Black communities, Black allies, Black spaces are so important. New partnerships and initiatives are being developed all the time. In 2020, the Black Student Union at the University of Bremen renamed February “Black Our Story Month” and has held Black History Month events every year since then to make visible the complexity of the Black experience.
Also of great importance are two organizations of black Germans: ISD (Initiative Schwarzer Menschen in Germany – Black German Initiative) and ADEFRA (Schwarze Frauen in Germany – Black German Women). These were established during Audre Lorde’s time in power. He teaches in Berlin and continues to be active today.
The ISD, which has branches throughout Germany, hosts an annual weekend retreat for Black Germans from all over the country, with many social and cultural events. ISD has also been involved in organizing protests, as it did during the Black Lives Matter demonstrations following the death of George Floyd.
My own relationship with being black has changed over time. My reference point, and in some ways my aspirational place, is no longer just Ghana, my father’s homeland. Being black has become my place. Because no matter where I am in the world, despite our differences, there is an invisible thread that connects us. And so begins Black History Month.
Germany’s black community celebrated its first Black History Month in 1990. Black History Month can help strengthen bonds within the community for those who have access to events. And it raises awareness among white Germans that there are different views of Germans and that black history is very much German history.
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As February comes to an end to mark the 35th such celebration, there will be another month of lectures and poetry readings celebrating the black community that many people outside the country, and even many Germans, don’t know exists. I was disappointed. In countries like mine, where the black population is growing but where there is still widespread public awareness that Germany is becoming a more diverse country, that may be the role of Black History Month. . What gives me hope here is that I have developed a sense of community, and unlike my early days when I was the only black child in school, I am not alone and I will never be alone. This is the knowledge.
I also keep in mind the example of my sister, who is 15 years younger and is essentially a Gen Z version of myself. She embodies the hope, promise, and potential that Black people bring to this country.
One recent evening, as she and I were walking home from a Black Hour Story Month event in Berlin, she exuded unbridled joy, excited by the excitement from the community and by the excitement of our community. I was excited about the opportunity to connect with like-minded people and share more about our collective journey. into German. Her eyes light up when she says this to me. “We exist and we kill,” she says, and her elation is contagious.