I Am That African

By Dr. Mario D. Wallace

Inspired by Eitan Chitayat’s article “I AM THAT Jew”

“I AM That African” is the psychological conflict I endure every day. It is a constant internal struggle that arises from being caught between identities and histories, from being labeled by terms that carry complex layers of meaning. According to African Americans, I am not African but Black American. Yet, for Black Americans, the term African American, coined by Jesse Jackson, feels disconnected.

And yet, I wear the mantle of That African every day as I navigate through America, a land that treats Black Americans as second-rate citizens. As Angela Rye boldly said, “We built this country!” Yet, our contributions have been overlooked, rewritten, or buried in history. I am That African who was enslaved, who toiled for centuries, planting and harvesting cotton, sugarcane, and indigo for 300 years. I am That African who was promised “40 acres and a mule” but never saw restitution. I am That African who, though my hands helped shape this land, was not written into the Constitution as a free human.

I am That African who was forced into labor at the homes of Presidents George Washington and Thomas Jefferson. I am That African who risked everything as a conductor on the Underground Railroad, leading my people to freedom. I am That African who birthed the very sound of American music—Blues, Jazz, Rock & Roll, Country, Hip Hop—only to have it stolen and reclassified by other races, erasing the truth of its origins.

I am That African who fought for the Union Army as a runaway slave, only to suffer under the harsh realities of Reconstruction, post-Reconstruction, and the Jim Crow South. I am That African who founded cities in the 1800s, only to watch them burn to the ground out of sheer hatred for my existence. I am That African who fought tooth and nail for the right to access a fair education system—only to face ongoing disparities in education even today.

I am That African who fought for America in the Vietnam War and returned home to a racist country. I am That African who was injected with syphilis during the Tuskegee Experiment, seen as nothing more than a subject to be tested, as scientists sought to understand the effects of the disease on my DNA.

I am That African who grew up in the projects, denied fair opportunities, and, as a result, turned to gangs and drugs to provide for my family. I am That African who served 20 years in prison for crack cocaine as part of a government plan to fund the Contra War in Nicaragua. I am That African who remains imprisoned for marijuana offenses, even though it is now legal in many places.

I am That African who did not realize that we make up only 13% to 17% of the American population. I am That African who holds a doctorate degree but is managed by someone with a high school diploma. I am That African who is told my ancestors come from “shithole countries” by politicians. I am That African who was lynched over and over again throughout history. I am That African who allegedly whistled at a white woman and was unalived for it. I am That African who walked to buy a bag of Skittles and was unalived.

I am That African who causes white women to clutch their purses tightly when I walk by. I am That African who witnesses microaggressions at work every single day. I am That African who watched as Rodney King was beaten relentlessly by the police. I want to be pro-American, but I can’t ignore the fact that I am constantly profiled by the police. I am That African who kneeled at NFL games to bring attention to police brutality against young Black men.

I am That African who stood on the steps of the Lincoln Memorial and declared, “I have a dream.” I am That African who said, “By any means necessary.” I am That African who shouted, “Black Power.” I am That African who sought asylum in Cuba because I could not find justice in America. I am That African who marched for George Floyd when he was unalived. I am That African who watched as the first Black president of the United States was called a “NIGGER” on national television.

I was born in Memphis, Tennessee, in Orange Mound—the first African American residential community. I speak English, and my complexion is caramel. I was raised both Christian and Muslim, and I am vegetarian. I have never been to Africa, nor have the five generations before me, yet my soul longs to return to the land of my ancestors. I yearn to visit Ghana, Nigeria, Senegal, and Benin to reconnect with the lost tribal communities of my forefathers and reclaim my native tongue.

I am That African who travels to historical sites with the intent to unearth the legacy of African Americans. I am That African who is my brother’s keeper, a father, an uncle, a cousin, and a friend. I am That African who never forgets the deep roots of my identity and the price my ancestors paid to shape this country.

I AM That African.

To learn more about I AM That African, follow me on BlackHistoryScavengerHunting.com and TikTok at https://www.tiktok.com/@drmariowallace?_t=8q5fBAaKlz9&_r=1