Dear Black African Child- AKA Letter to My Younger Self
I travelled to Cape Town this week. As you already know, I started a new job — something slightly different from what I was doing, but a fresh, beautiful, enthusing challenge nonetheless. I am excited about what the future holds. We flew on a Proflight plane into Johannesburg before connecting to Cape Town on South African Airways. As we lifted off from Johannesburg, I looked down at the gleaming buildings, the undulating roads snaking their way across the land. A lump rose in my throat — not from fear, but from recognition. Recognition of a truth I have carried for years, a truth I can no longer ignore. Black African Child, I want to tell you today that I think you have a problem. A problem that has followed you like a shadow. One that covers your existence like a rash you pretend not to see. It announces you, it controls you. Some days I think it’s a lack of imagination; other days I diagnose it as a permanent warped logic trap — a maze that provides both the questions an...
