The labels used to describe Americans of African descent mark the movement of a people from the slave house to the White House. Today, many are resisting this progression by holding on to a name from the past: “black.”
For this group — some descended from U.S. slaves, some immigrants with a separate history — “African-American” is not the sign of progress hailed when the term was popularized in the late 1980s. Instead, it’s a misleading connection to a distant culture.
The debate has waxed and waned since African-American went mainstream, and gained new significance after the son of a black Kenyan and a white American moved into the White House. President Barack Obama’s identity has been contested from all sides, renewing questions that have followed millions of darker Americans:
What are you? Where are you from? And how do you fit into this country?“I prefer to be called black,” said Shawn Smith, an accountant from Houston. “How I really feel is, I’m American.”
“I don’t like African-American. It denotes something else to me than who I am,” said Smith, whose parents are from Mississippi and North Carolina. “I can’t recall any of them telling me anything about Africa. They told me a whole lot about where they grew up in Macomb County and Shelby, N.C.”
Gibre George, an entrepreneur from Miami, started a Facebook page called “Don’t Call Me African-American” on a whim. It now has about 300 “likes.”
“We respect our African heritage, but that term is not really us,” George said. “We’re several generations down the line. If anyone were to ship us back to Africa, we’d be like fish out of water.”
“It just doesn’t sit well with a younger generation of black people,” continued George, who is 38. “Africa was a long time ago. Are we always going to be tethered to Africa? Spiritually I’m American. When the war starts, I’m fighting for America.”
Joan Morgan, a writer born in Jamaica who moved to New York City as a girl, remembers the first time she publicly corrected someone about the term: at a book signing, when she was introduced as African-American and her family members in the front rows were appalled and hurt.
I served in the Army with a great man, and I am proud to call Kenny my brother, he is a proud “black man”.
We had a group of soldiers and an young officer attatched to us for a series of training films ‘lessons learned’. One evening Ken & I were sitting together enjoying a piece of pie after chow, when the officer of the film team came over and started talking to us. During the conversation he asked if Kenny felt alone in the unit, being the only “African American” SSG Kenny just looked at the officer for a moment then said: “African?, sir with all due respect to your rank. FU, I’m no african I’m 100% American, I’m from Detroit” He then stood up with pie in hand, and walked away shaking his head turning every few paces looking at me saying “African?!?”. I started laughing, and said to the officer as I stood to follow Kenny “See ya in the morning Sir knuckle head” … The young 2nd LT just sat there looking at his boots.