White Advantage Even in Africa
“Brother, we are concerned about you. It must be hard to hear about how White people in America have hurt Black people. Are you ok?”
I shouldn’t have been surprised by this question from my Ghanian brothers. They are extremely kind people and always treat me with honor. I appreciated their sensitivity to my emotional state. But the irony of the moment nearly knocked me over. I’ll have to back up and explain.
I was in a coastal city of Ghana meeting with a group of Ghanian preachers along with five African American preachers who had traveled together as part of our Atlantic Bridge Initiative. Our group of six had been in Ghana for about a week. We had learned much and contributed much to the Ghanaians understanding of the church and culture in America. There was significant misunderstanding on both sides that generated false narratives that we were clearing away. Rich relationships were being formed.
I can’t express how much joy it gives me to see the sons of Africa who love Jesus reconnect after 400 years of separation. Amazing things happened every day.
There were also some awkward moments. This kind of cross-cultural exchange is not common and so there were bound to be misunderstandings. I was prepared for that. What I was not prepared for was the level of advantage I would be given as a “White” man when traveling in Africa with African Americans. It wasn’t something I was in a place to see until I traveled with African Americans.
For example, when we checked into a hotel in Cape Coast, the staff assigned me a room in a different part of the hotel from my traveling companions despite us all booking together. Everywhere we went, the Ghanaians tended to look at me when talking to the group even when answering questions from my African American companions.
But the quote that started this article surprised me the most. We had spent the day before visiting the Slave Castle (dungeon) at Elmina where the ancestors of my African American brothers had been held in unimaginably squalid degradation before being chained below deck in a ship where they were to suffer through the horrors of the middle passage only to be sold into a lifetime of subjugation for them and all their descendants for centuries. It was a hard but profound day that left an emotional hangover to say the least. I could only imagine what it meant to my brothers who were the descendants of the survivors of this inhumanity at the hands of people who called themselves Christians.
The next morning, we had been meeting with about a dozen local preachers for well over an hour explaining why we had come, why African Americans had not often come before, and why the churches in the U.S. were separated along racial lines. This involved sharing some hard but true stories about the lived experience of African Americans. That is when the question came about my emotional state.
I responded by thanking my Ghanian brothers for their concern for me, but pointed out how ironic it was that after the emotional trauma of visiting the slave castle the day before and an hour’s worth of describing the difficulties of being “Black” in America, the only person whose emotional state was in question was the only “White” guy in the room.
What does this mean? Among other things, it means that being “White” gives me an advantage everywhere I go, even Africa, whether or not I want it or even see it. It’s not that African Americans were treated badly in Africa. Far from it. They were treated like they belong there and were celebrated. They were drawn into relationships with greater intimacy more quickly. But (and this is my major point) I was given greater honor and deference because I’m “White.” Even. In. Africa. Think about that. You can leave America and go to Africa, but you can’t escape White privilege no matter where you go. Even when you try to avoid it, it will follow you even if you hate it.
So, for those of you in the majority population in the U.S., the next time you are in a conversation involving race, try to be less reactive to the notion of White advantage. It’s real and not just in the USA. It’s a global reality. Lean in with humble curiosity. Listen well. Ask good follow up questions. Try to see the world through the eyes of people who have a different experience. It will cost you nothing and it could lead to new understanding, compassion, and change that could do a literal world of good for everyone.