So, what are you?

FEATURING THE WORKS OF: PETER ISOTA

MODELED BY: TRACY COELHO

I've grown up with the best of both worlds. I've been blessed enough to have submerged myself in different cultures, which was one of the benefits of belonging to a multicultural family. However, there was always this feeling of never belonging. I was constantly faced with the dilemma of not being 'Carribean' enough or not being 'Kenyan enough' in Kenya and while I'm in Canada, I'm not black enough. The only time in my life that felt like my ethnicity didn't matter was when I was with my father's side of the family, who were Filipino, Caribbean and Irish. We were just a bunch of people from different backgrounds who always managed to come together and be this loving and harmonious unit. 



 This concept of never being enough that extended into almost every aspect of my life. No matter my geographical location, I was never 'enough' to fit this social construct of who I was supposed to be. Of course, this mentality changed over the years. I'm comfortable with the person I've become and I love all parts of my diverse background. However, when I was younger, this was an extremely uncomfortable situation. The same time that I was trying to discover myself, I was being battered with a specific mold that I should fit. With the constant movement between countries, my ethnicity became fluid. I was Kenyan when I wanted to be. I spoke the little Kiswahili I knew. I was Caribbean when required and spoke with the thickest Bajan accent just like my grandmother, and I knew when to downplay both in certain company (I never had to pretend to be Irish or anything because I wasn't really in touch with that side of my family). I was neither true to myself nor my heritage. My culture became something that I hid behind and never fully embraced or celebrated. Rather than focusing on experiences and family, I was trying my best to communicate to others that this wasn't my first rodeo, that I already knew this and that because I am Jamaican/ Kenyan or whatever the hell it was I was supposed to be. My seven-year-old idealistic self-was perplexed and just wanted to be independent of all these variables, to actually just be without having to associate me with anything or anyone. My heritage was too cumbersome and felt like something I needed to hide instead of being proud of. 

The worst part of this dilemma was being called out for not behaving according to my ethnicity. At first,  I casually shrugged it off but later on people's responses manifested into the way I viewed myself as a person. As a young child, I did not have the capacity to understand racial/colorism issues and therefore it was never a problem for me. But as I got older it was something that became more prominent but I still never acknowledged or had to confront it until I moved for the first time. When I moved from Canada to Kenya I was pretty yellow. I looked like a bloody lemon 🍋because ya girl wasn’t out in the sun a lot. So when I came I was often mistaken for being of mixed race. I went to an 8-4-4 system school at the time and there was a lot of friction with everyone and culture shock. However, there was one thing that stuck with me from being in that school; it was a comment from my classmate directed at me, she said “She thinks she can get away with everything. She’s only pretty because she’s half-caste.” These two statements had no correlation whatsoever and I'm not even half-caste as this girl so ignorantly put it. But, I remember taking the comment quite personally. So there I was, delusional for thinking that I was enough simply because I was black, only to find out that I still wasn't black enough. Although the comment was not applicable to that situation it came to haunt me later on. Unfortunately, there are boys on this planet who think its absolutely fine to dehumanize and use people who are or look like they are of mixed race as props to showcase their friends. I had this misfortune of meeting so many of them and each time those words at the back of my head. 

Ironically, I had some of the same experience reiterated in Canada a few years later. I really couldn't run from myself (shocker). My person was constantly being compromised by people who simply couldn’t understand personal space and respect- a concept so alien like the fingers that dug into the thick halo of my hair followed by nosey inquiries of my origin, the constant teasing from being a fat girl whose accent was so thick it always sounded congested. I stuck out like a sore thumb in spite of all my efforts to blend in. Surprisingly African American's were my biggest critics. It was almost as if I was a failure to them because I didn't know how to assimilate into Western culture. They took pride in knowing they had no accent like I did. The word African or Carribean was used in a mocking manner to apologize for my difference. My cultural tendencies and homeliness didn't match the foreign hip urbane of Toronto, it left me in a situation whereby I felt that I was too much and at the same time too little. So I spent my summer break cleansing my palette from any trace of an accent, imitating the likes of Audrey Hepburn and Grace Kelly. 

Now that times have changed and things are slightly different, I feel more accepted. Probably because I hang out with more international students that have had similar experiences. Those who can echo that feeling of  'never being enough'. It's comforting to find something so relatable amongst what you would normally deem foreign, it feels welcoming and a lot more like home should feel. 

FaMiLy iS eVerYtHiNg!

Families can be manipulative as heck. I hate it when people blindly preach "FaMiLy iS EvErYthINg, nO MaTtEr wHaT!". Please, just stop. Families can be just as toxic as any other relationship. Blood doesn't mean smack if someone is constantly making you feel guilty for existing or in general treats you badly. The worst is when dysfunctional families have a tendency to push their agenda's on their children through a casual manipulative game of 'win my approval and affection, or else'

 Being accepted is the only way you can establish a somewhat form of communication within such families. The moment the mold that was handcrafted by your parents -filled with hope and expectations of a future white-collar job- doesn't fit, you automatically become the family's black sheep. Your ability to fit that mold determines how much attention and 'affection' you receive. As long as the exterior that you exude matches their set standards, you'll be golden in their eyes. It's a shallow form of a family dynamic but it's a sad reality for most of us. It's a perpetuated culture of children being seen but never truly heard. The fact that some families can treat their children as expendable over something as petty as sexual orientation or a future career path is an excellent display of our culture's overemphasis on social stature, how we care so much about what people think and those around us. Life's too short to be focused on such trivial matters. I feel that social status is such a huge factor amongst families and an even greater manipulative influence within Kenyan society. It determines the amount of respect and power that can be elicited from one's environment. It says a lot about the values that we uphold. Power, money, and greed are what fuel this society of kneeling before big-bellied politicians, has seeped its corrupt ways into its principle foundation structure, families. It's all fair game, considering such vices feature in most of our media consumption, it was only a matter of time that the exterior met the interior.

If it's so toxic then why not take the front door and leave? It's a lot more complicated than that. We are capable of tolerating so much. Too much if you ask me, to the point where we've generated a numbed youth that just doesn't bother. It all seems pointless until you can actually define yourself as free and independent. But at the age of eighteen, in Kenya, you're still pretty dependent on your family for a lot of things. This isn't a typical American teen situation whereby you can work at your local McDonalds or retail store and save up, and not everyone receives an allowance. I was fortunate enough to be employed at the age of sixteen (I'm still not sure if that was legal) but in most cases,  the extent to which a minor can actually earn a killing is through making a business and even that requires more time and money than most would have available.



There is so much emphasis on this image that parents create for their children. One mess up could lead to total estrangement. Apart from being financially cut off (and what little freedom you have stripped), there's the risk of being seen as a burden. The moment you lose your worth you become a liability and trust me they'll make sure to rub it in your face. The cards are in their favor, and the weapon of choice, emotional abuse as leverage. A way of shunning until you concede to what they deem 'appropriate'. It's sickening. However,  I like to think of this as a reminder. A reminder of where you come from. It's motivation to move forward and to never fall back, in fear of finding yourself back in a situation of powerlessness and dysfunction. If you don't define yourself as a person other people will do it for you. It's a scary experience, especially when you've grown up in an environment that discourages individualism. It takes time to be okay with your own thoughts and opinions; to realize that your voice does matter.

It's fine if people put more value into their social appeal. They simply chose what they thought was more important to them, now it's up to you to do the same, or you can sit still and look pretty, whichever works best.

Stay blessed.

MENTAL ILLNESSES & AFRICAN PARENTS

As much as we preach globalization and modernism within the diaspora the concept has yet to assimilate itself within the majority of society, specifically when addressing the mental health of our citizens.

It’s a known fact that majority of people don’t recognize mental disorders as actual illnesses. One of the main reasons is because of our perception of mental illnesses as a sign of weakness. Not to mention the constant comparison of our mental strength to previous generations. The minuscule challenges that we face today are nothing compared to the hardships of our parents and grandparents.

As Kenyans, our backgrounds are rich and cultured by the roots of our ancestors that endured the cruelties of the colonial regime,  humiliation and risked their lives so that we can proudly acclaim this land as our own. Our generation is currently enjoying the sweet fruits of laborious strain from our patriotic predecessors. When looking at the past, it dwarves any hardship that the future could hold. Nothing could ever amount to the sacrifice for what we proudly have today. We are the privileged generation that should learn to suck it up because we’ll never have it as bad as they did. We get to launder in the lavish and luxurious lifestyle that comes with technological advancements and international engagement. We will never understand the struggle of that time.

And you know what? It's true. We will never understand because we are a completely different generation. We will never understand these hardships because we were never there to endure them. We never grew up in the same environment because of their great sacrifices. It’s not even fair to compare our modern day issues to then, they aren’t of the same caliber. But nevertheless, they are still issues that need to be addressed and solved. Just because they are of less magnitude does not mean they are automatically negated. Each generation will have its own set of problems and as human ingenuity continues to progress we will continue to develop our skills to address these issues and offer solutions for them. The backbone of ingenuity is to offer a more comfortable lifestyle for ourselves. Hence the development of various forms of therapy to address mental disorders, yet we choose to remain ignorant.

Don't even get me started on eating disorders and depression. My cousin literally calls them the “Westerner's disease”, a disease only the privileged can afford because they can rely on their parents to coddle their self-destructive behavior. Imagine battling your own psychological demons and having to hear this from someone whose opinion is completely irrelevant? There are so many misconceptions surrounding mental illnesses that could be debunked if we educated the public on the importance of mental health. All of these are (from my personal observation) are common amongst African parents and black-American families. This is why we have so many black youths suffering in silence. Parents and elders are out here disregarding their children's emotional well-being because they believe it's a 'white thing'. We are doing the worst thing imaginable, acting like blind fools. The stigma that surrounded mental disorders when I was growing up, is that it only affected white people. It's stupid I know, however, this was the generalized misconception that I grew up with (and still see today). I view this as a need to distance ourselves from the trifling struggles of white people because the magnitude of their struggle will never be as great as ours. This is absolutely petty. We are all human, meaning we are susceptible to the same ailments, emotionally and physically. It's time we accept this fact because we are literally approaching a period that has the highest levels of anxiety and stress recorded since the early 90's and it's probably only going to get worse, but the blessing is in how we handle our emotional issues rather than suppressing them.

Ignoring the situation is not going to help it go away. It's a matter of acceptance and dialogue. The rift between the youth and paternal figures has greatly widened in the past few years because of this. I have a handful of friends who can attest to the fact that they are not close to their parents at all apart from casual conversations about work and school. Having a healthy relationship that is positive and supportive seems fascinating to them, it's something that they literally cannot fathom. Yet people have the audacity to claim that their children "never want to spend time with me" or are never honest or are secretive. The disconnect is there because there is no assurance that they'll be emotional support from your end. After all, why waste your time with someone who will only acknowledge you when you're at your best? 

That aside, healthcare as well needs to expand in a way that it can accommodate for -not just physical ailments but- mental illnesses as well. There are few clinics that deal with PTSD and independently organized HIV support groups, but the only publicly reckoned hospital that specifically deals with mental disorders is Mathare Hospital. And even then, there will never be assurance that people would want to seek treatment until the stigmatization around mental illnesses ends.

Stay blessed.

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