Am I Black or African-American?

I was listening to the Joe Madison Show on Sirius XM radio this morning. Joe seemed to be in a rather nasty, "I don't want to hear any BS" kind of mood. Some of the callers that Joe didn't agree with were curtly interrupted before they could complete their thought and hung up on. One caller was suggesting to Joe that we (African-Americans) should remove the hyphen from our nationality. Joe responded, rather defensively, that we should not drop the hyphen because other nationalities don't. Unfortunately Joe didn't allow the caller to finish his thought as I was interested in knowing his reasoning. For me, I think it's something much deeper than a category or classification.

As far as being referred to as African-American, I think that it's a misnomer. To me, the term "African-American" implies an immigrant from Africa coming to the United States of his or her own volition, regardless of circumstance, to make a better life. In the case of most Black American, that is not the case. You should not have to look any farther than history. During the Slave Trade, Black Africans were brought to American against their will, whether they were kidnapped or sold in to Slavery. After arriving to America, slave were taken to slave markets to be bought and sold by slave masters, tearing families apart. Over generations, we were stripped of our true heritage, language, and culture and forced to adopt a culture that viewed us as less than human.

I would dare say that the disconnect between Africa and descendants of slaves is somewhat similar to the disconnect between God and Man; the only difference being there in no intercessory to repair the rift. I also say that the disconnect is so complete that I or any Black American are just as much a foreigner to Africa as any non-African.

I recall the trip to Accra, Ghana I took back in 1993. I was the first time I traveled outside the U.S.  After arriving to Kotoka International Airport, it was a virtual sea of Black people. But the airport is no different than any other, with people rushing to get from A to B in 2 minutes or less. The 2 weeks I spent in Koforidua were amazing! To be among so many people who look like me was very comforting. As much as I felt comforted, I felt very much estranged. I didn't know the language, the customs, or anything for that matter. I was very much a stranger in a strange land.  at the end of the 2nd week, I was more than ready to head back to the States because that's what I know, that's where people I live and grew up with are, that's my home.