Lessons Learned from the Hadza - Identity Shmidentity

February 13th – 19th we had the privilege of talking, working, and living with the Hadzabe tribe of Tanzania. The Hadzabe are one of the last groups of hunter-gatherers in the world (?). The Tanzanian government is hoping to convert them into farmers. If they succeed, the Hadzabe’s traditional way of life will be extinct. I’ll give more details on the Hadzabe in a later post, but until then, lessons learned…

Lesson 1 – Identity shmidentity

On our first day with the Hadzabe, we had small group discussions with them. When we introduced ourselves, I got the curious stares and pleasant smiles that always come with being the black mzungu. Other than their initial reaction though, my Blackness didn’t matter. I was just another student, mzungu, American, and/or tourist to them. What mattered about my identity was not how I saw myself, but how they saw me.

Of course, that realization didn’t come until after I spent a good chunk of time reflecting on the tenuousness of identity. While I'm glad I have some fresh insight on identity/the self, I was definitely reflecting while I should have been asking the Hadza questions because of that whole you’ll-never-have-this-moment-again thing. ::sigh::

However, what I did glean from my ill-use of time is that insisting on being seen as Black first and American second homogenizes the experiences of all Black people: Kenyans describe themselves as Black, but their Blackness is shaped by experiences different from that of Black Americans (and other folks who define themselves as Black). If I make a point of calling myself Black here as a way to integrate myself into communities, social circles, etc., I tacitly assume that all Black experiences are the same and attempt to forge a solidarity between myself and all Black people that doesn't necessarily exist. Blackness, then, is a very local identity. As such, it can only be conferred or denied by the Black people in the area. Of course, this is an uncomfortable and debatable conclusion, but I find it to be a valuable one because it suggests that you can’t ever fully know yourself: If Blackness (or any other identity) must be conferred by another, then the self must be partially defined by someone that isn’t you.

If the self must be (in part) outwardly defined, then I lost a valuable opportunity to know myself better by pondering this “Am I Black still???” issue instead of asking the Hadzabe good questions about their lives and, what, exactly, makes them Black (if they do indeed define themselves as Black). Luckily, I resolved my mini-identity crisis the first day, so I didn't completely squander the week. When I really began engaging with the Hadzabe, maaan.... More later though...