this guy…???**
Being in a country with a non-existent “indigenous” Black population (actually, there is a small Afro-Chilean community in the North of Chile–bordering Peru–that is currently fighting to be recognized in the census. Read more here.) I find myself commenting on, or making a mental note of every Black people I see in a day. David as well. “Oh look! A Black woman!” we will say to each other. “Hey, is that a Black family? Yes, yes it is!”
There is a growing community of Black immigrants in Santiago now. There was a surge of Haitian immigrants who fled to Chile after the 2010 earthquake (which is interesting considering Chile also had one of it’s biggest earthquakes measuring 8.8 on the Richter scale, only a month after the catastrophic Haitian one). And since Chile is a peaceful nation with a stable, growing economy there are increasing numbers of immigrants from across Latin America, including Black Colombians, Peruvians and Ecuadorians. So it’s not completely strange to see other Black people here. I was told that 5-6 years ago, I would have received many stares but today no one gives me a second look, not even children, so I assume that means the percentage of Black immigrants has grown considerably in a short time.
Still, whenever I come across another Black person we will often lock eyes and look at each other for a moment. I often nod and smile. A sort of, “hello my fellow African brother/sister” kinda thing. 
What’s interesting though, is that I rarely get a nod/smile back. And it has made me think about what being Black means to Africans in Latin America. And it’s made me question what my assumptions are about the things that connect us.
Politically, I feel passionately in solidarity with my “Black brothers and sisters”. I feel united by a shared history and legacy of racial oppression that can be felt across the African diaspora, bonded by the shared historical/cultural similarities from music to religious practices and even family dynamics, and sharing similar skin and hair types makes me feel connected to other Black people as well. But then…
I do not share a language with the Black Haitians who speak French/Creole or the Black Colombians and Peruvians who speak Spanish (or the Black Brazilians and their Portuguese). We may share a history of racial oppression, but being from Tanzania my ancestors didn’t go through the Atlantic Slave Trade, and theirs did not go through German and British colonialism. I do not share blood with indigenous Americans or Europeans, while many of them do and it makes for very noticeable differences in physical appearance and history. I have no idea what it’s like to live in Peru or Colombia or Haiti. I have no clue what it means to flee a country because of political instability, or economic hardship, or a natural disaster. And in terms of culture…I spent the majority of my childhood and adolescence on the East Coast of the United States, listening to Notorious B.I.G, Mariah Carey and N’Sync; watching Salute Your Shorts, Saved by the Bell and All That; going to malls and driving down I-95.
Despite or maybe BECAUSE OF our differences, I find myself wanting to connect with other Black immigrants here. I want to hear their stories, and I really want to know what Blackness means to them. A few months ago I started watching the PBS documentary by Henry Louis Gates, Jr. “Black in Latin America” and from what I saw all I know is that Black identity here in Latin America is rich, diverse, complicated. How do they identify themselves primarily? What do they think or know about Africans, African-Americans (from the United States)? And what do their experiences have to do with my own identity? (I smell my next film…)
**This guy…???
Right. This guy actually deserves his own post, not just a footnote. He sits outside my mother-in-law’s building in a corner. I’m not sure what to make of it. Of course he looks very similar to a lot of Blackface memorabilia and many of the residents are appalled by it. Not sure if they are appalled because it looks like a guy in Blackface (probably not), or because it’s just really tacky and weird looking.Anyways, the building management put it out there a few months ago. I’d like to ask them about it and maybe record their answer on video….
Another excellent entry Natasha! These are very important questions to explore and I hope you do … the ties that bind are complexed indeed! I will check out Louis Gates Jr’s documentary to begin my own education about descendants of africans in South America.
Thank you Mummy! Yes, it’s fascinating and I will be reading and researching some more!
I liked this a lot. Maybe because lately I’ve been asking myself the same thing…about being Black in the US.There was a time (as you know) when I was surrounded by mostly white people (Centreville, VA). When I would finally come across a black person in the neighborhood I would nod and smile- and yes they would smile and nod back too but our experiences are vastly different. Im an African in America. Not an African American. And not even a “real” African so to speak- born in the UK, raised in the states, don’t speak the language of my grandparents. I realized early on that it can be difficult for me to connect with many African Americans, and I do think it is largely due to the fact that my ancestors were not slaves as their ancestors were. There is deep rooted anger that has been carried down over the generations, understandably so. I may have have encountered racism in my life but it doesnt go back generations and generations. Its so complicated.I like how you say “Black identity here in Latin America is rich, diverse, complicated.” I’d have to say same goes for Blacks in America, probably Blacks everywhere.
Thank you Karina! You’re exactly right…we all have a rich and complex history in terms of identity. Yeah, I wanted to talk a little bit about our upbringing and not being in predominately Black neighborhoods, it’s definitely interesting to see how that shaped us and allowed us to see our “community” from the outside.
Natasha, thanks for this remarkable post. Things have indeed changed in Chile, but “a la chilena”, i.e., unstable, elusive, fragile, slow but, all in all, relentless. My own nods of recognition to Blacks, coming from a mestizo Chilean, are often acknowledged (in various degrees, depending on age and gender) and, I tend to think, appreciated in a puzzled kind of way. If I happen to be with Aleem, I detect added puzzlement: “What, did he call you papá?”. Would I want my Philadelphia-born African American son to grow up in Chile, despite the change, though? I am of two minds. On the one hand, Chilean children seem to be freer from prejudice, infinitely easier to befriend than American children, and socialized in more welcoming, warmer set of manners. They seem to be able to interact with older children and with adults of all ages in a more fluid, natural way. Aleem fits right in when surrounded by Chilean children at play. I have perceived none of the baggage that American children carry with regards to race, specifically with regards to Blacks. Curiosity about physical differences (hair, skin color) quickly dissipate. The adult world is another matter– if Chilean children seem to be “better” and less prejudiced, adult Chileans are worse than white Americans. Perhaps this reflects having grown up in a more homogeneous environment. But my sense is that as Chileans grow up, they adopt the dominant paradigm of the Chilean caste system, which depends heavily on determinations of race for establishing a social hierarchy and adjudicating
social prestige. You know, the paradigm that causes Chilean TV “faces” to be even whiter than in the US. The “young leaders of the future” chosen by El Mercurio a couple of ago seemed like a bunch of Norwegians. In any case, thanks again for this blog. And I look forward to the film (what an extraordinary and timely idea– and I can’t think of anyone better than you to do it). I saw the HL Gates series and I think it’s good and info as a starting point, but the lens is, not surprisingly, very (North) American-centered.
Thanks so much for your response Roberto! Very fascinating to hear about your experiences with Aleem, and I have noticed the same thing in regards to Chilean children with Mia. I definitely feel less baggage in terms of race and it’s refreshing. It’s a nice change from the obsession with race that permeates so many social interactions in the United States. But yes, I am learning more and more about the class/ethnic-racial heritage divide here and it seems to be quite rigid. I haven’t watched the whole Gates series, but I’m glad that you pointed out it’s North-American lens! Something to pay attention to, and something I will be thinking about when I embark on my next film project which I hope to do…