March 2002
As Ethiopian-American youth, many of us have experienced the same joys and pains of bi-culturalism. We can look into each other's Semitic eye and cry about such an experience; we can laugh with our brown, violet-tinted thick lips and laugh about such an experience; we can sing and dance eskista together in celebration of the joys and pains of living between cross-cultural boundaries.
We know there is something about us-our perception, our language, our modern views-that separates us from our parents, the traditions, and the old, old country they speak of nostalgically as "back home."
My Father's memory, aged photos from family albums and traditional Ethiopian cultural pieces used to decor my house, are the only concrete elements I have contributing to my own notions of a country, which, seems both so distant, yet so intrinsically a part of me.
My role as an Ethiopian-American is so ambiguous at times. The images I know of Ethiopia are at once vague yet at once, so grandiose, for it exists for me essentially as an object of my imagination. Therefore, isn't part of my identity also a vague my imagination; open for interpretation?
When one looks at me, Ethiopians or Americans, I'm sure they are baffled. Being an artist, I've always equated the way I am perceived by others, similarly to the way one interprets an abstract work of art: the beholder is confused, entranced and struck with the sudden question of whether the image is something with which they can identify or rather, must work to figure out.
Being of both mixed race and culture, I have deduced that it is hard for many Ethiopian-Americans to identify with me, call me one of their own reflect of culture with me.
Just as being an Ethiopian immigrant is a separate experience than being an Ethiopian born American, being an Ethiopian / white/American is a completely separate experience than being just an Ethiopian born American. As the Ethiopian community, now comes the question of who can be considered truly Ethiopian?
Must they possess fluency in the native language, being able to conjugate Amharic verbs, communicate with the elders in the sacred language, and carry the rhythmic flow of conversation-skillfully rolling the tongue in sounds unique to Ethiopia? Or, must they be able to cook authentically -being able to name Ethiopian spices correctly, make decent wat, and roast coffe beans without burning them? Or, must they look Ethiopian -possessing light brown skin with a gray tone, thick and beautiful purple tinted lips, and a large forehead covered in curly, dark and soft
hair that is not typical of many Africans?
Or must they be proud- possessing so much faith in their history, culture and people that it extends into an air of superiority, debasing the validity of other people's pride
May be, I've come to learn a true Ethiopian must not need to question such things. If one knows who he or she and he/she is comfortable in his/her identity, it does not need to be worn in the form of pride. I will admit that my Amharic is rusty, my wat is not the best tasting, and yes I've have burnt my Buna beans on several occasions.
But the fact remains that I am Ethiopian. 5o%. 100%. Whatever. Maybe my children will be 25%Ethiopian or may be more, depending on whom I choose to marry. When I meet other Ethiopian-Americans I wonder if they feel a sense of pity for me-some sympathy for a poor mixed girl who does not know herself. Perhaps, to them I am a misunderstood abstract piece of art. However, contrary to popular belief, I do very much know my self and my culture.
Becoming comfortable in my identity came after I had stopped searching for definitions of a true Ethiopian, of a true anything. As Ethiopian-Americans, this is a factor I would like to point out to those raising children in an American Society:
We must be aware of what it means to be American, and what it means to be Ethiopian. This applies to everyone, whether or not you are mixed and whether or not you are a full blood. I feel there need to be an acceptance among the community, a decreased emphasis on expected standards, and an embracing of many types of Ethiopians and cultures.
Yes, Ethiopians are a very proud people but we (that includes my self) must also
be open to learning, shifting, adapting, and thriving as Ethiopian-American culture.
This means that when you confront someone like me a "half-breed", you are not tempted to respond with the need to teach me so much about my culture, my language -myself. Rather, you will look at this abstract piece of art and say, "How much I have to Learn."
My father was the first of our family to migrate from Ethiopia to America-and there are many who share and have voiced a similar experience. We know this because they are our parents. Or, perhaps you are an Ethiopian immigrant yourself and know of this experience first hand. But I know this: my lack of knowledge in language and international experience no less decreases my substance as person of culture.
I have a country to visit, an extended family to meet, and a language to become more proficient in-but this, is a personal experience I must fulfill myself. Look at this piece of art, and become excited in its ambiguity-its inability to be defined.
Look at it and ask of its culture, its experience its wanting to know more. Look, ask, but don't assume. Perhaps you too, will have much to learn: my culture is currently under going its evolution and my journey, which, is yet to be completed, still carries a story-maybe not as impressive, but holding the same impact as the physical journey of an Ethiopian immigrant from one country to another.
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