November 9, 2016 - 00:46
Something that resonated with me from Coate's book was his trip to France. His cab driver said, "we are all united under Africa." Est-ce que tu es d'Afrique? As a foreigner I didn't want to be known as American. We don't have the best reputation overseas. Some thought I would be offended to be assumed to be African. Well, I don't think it's a bad thing to be African. And I know enough French history to know that there are indeed plenty of Africans in France. D'où es tu? I was proud to be assumed to be African, but I also used the question as an opportunity to claim a heritage I truly cared about. My mother's homeland, Trinidad. And it was only in France, where I didn't have to worry about being too American, for my family, or too Trinidadian, for the Americans, that I was allowed to live without labels. Je suis une étudiante americane mais ma mère est de Trinidad. My French is limited and people are curious, so they ask me more questions. I can be my own person, using my own descriptors rather than preset categories. That was liberating. I can only have that in a second language.
Without quotes, I will say that may also be what Bình feels. As well as Coates. Labels limit us.