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Editor's Note

Family Reunion
A Message from the Editor, Victoria L. Valentine...

     Recently, I was out with a friend and she asked me what the latest issue of The Crisis was about. I told her we were going to be discussing immigrant issues and relations between Black immigrants and African Americans.

     What do you mean by African American and Black immigrant relations, she asked? I explained that sometimes newcomers from Africa and the Caribbean come to the United States with preconceived, often negative, perceptions of African Americans. And conversely, Black Americans, perhaps unfamiliar with the cultures and countries immigrants hale from, may make assumptions about them. As a result, sometimes there is a communication disconnect.

     In response, she asked me if I remembered the comments one of our former co-workers made at a meeting more than a decade ago. It was at another magazine. Our co-worker was a talented young graphic designer from Trinidad. She had been in the United States for several years and on the staff, as I recall, for several months. In the midst of an editorial meeting, the floor was opened for story ideas.

     “Why don’t we do something about African American women who try to have all these babies so they can stay on welfare?” she suggested.

     There was a score of other staffers in the room, all but one other were Black American. Needless to say, our editor-in-chief dressed her down and schooled her about buying into racist stereotypes, particularly those about her own people.

    Our boss’s response, while certainly warranted, actually indicated another cultural disconnect between African Americans and Black immigrants. Many newcomers to the United States don’t necessarily consider Black Americans “their own people” because they may not view themselves Black, rather identifying themselves as Haitian, Jamaican or Nigerian, for example.

    Nunu Kidane, an Eritrean immigrant who is featured on our cover and in the story “Black Like Whom,” on page 24 reports as much. When she was working as a waitress in college, she says, her interaction with her African American co-workers was full of tension and misunderstandings.

    She would tell them she was Eritrean, not Black. “And they would say, ‘When was the last time you looked in the mirror? Sister, you’re Black,’” says Kidane, 48. The activist and consultant for the Oakland, Calif.-based Women of Color Resource Center, adds “What was missing from our dialogue was the fact that to me ‘Black’ or ‘race’ was not an identity.”

    Kelvin Sauls, who also lives in Oakland and is featured in our story, has had his own awkward exchanges with Black Americans. The 39-year-old South African was once actually asked about his “encounters with Tarzan.”

    As a result of immigration, the Black population in the United States is becoming increasingly diverse. According to the Lewis Mumford Center for Comparative Urban and Regional Research, African and Caribbean newcomers accounted for nearly 25 percent of U.S. Black population growth during the 1990s.

    African Americans today, particularly in large metropolitan areas, are certainly more familiar with Blacks from other countries than they were decades ago. But, without a doubt, beyond the issue of the unknown, many Black Americans feel threatened by Black immigrants. According to the Mumford Center, their populations are more educated than African Americans and they have lower unemployment rates, higher median incomes and live in more-diverse neighborhoods.

    Only through dialogue, interaction and coalition-building will relations between the two groups further improve. The diversity of the Black Diaspora in the United States needn’t prompt a family feud. It should be viewed as a family reunion.

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The Crisis
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* Letters may be edited for length or clarity.

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